Home > Uncategorized > “We had a conversation about this….”

“We had a conversation about this….”

So my folks came to visit yesterday. They (to be fair, my mom) randomly announced a few weeks ago that they were coming to visit and I had to push hard to get them to move it back to a date where I wasn’t already busy.

Then there was the inevitable discussion… when will they arrive? Usually they arrive just as The Child is going down for her nap. “I don’t see why you can’t have her skip her nap when her grandparents are coming to visit!” I maintained my calm and said that if they got up to our place at 9 or so then it wouldn’t be an issue.

There was some more discussion. Mom said she wanted to bring the dog — a brand new and completely untrained rescue dog, a shiz tzu. (I’m spelling that wrong, aren’t I?) I said no… I had a 15 lb. cat who hated dogs, a tiny apartment, and we didn’t know how that dog was going to deal with children.

There was something about Teddy Grahams, which my mother keeps insisting are healthy because they have graham flour in them. I assumed it was for Easter and figured they’d be lost in the piles of jelly beans and chocolate bunnies.

They arrived yesterday at 11:30. Just in time for lunch and then nap. Sigh. It was so expected that I couldn’t even be bothered getting annoyed.

But they brought the flipping dog. When I protested, my mother said, “I told you we were bringing here. We had this conversation.”

“And I said ‘no!'”, I replied.

“We couldn’t leave her at home, could we?”

“Why not!? You do every day when you go to work.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

I dropped it. But since Mom seems to think they will be coming up regularly on Wednesdays (and that’s a whole ‘nother fight looming in my future… I have playgroup Wed. and I love my friends), I’m going to have to explain that they need to get a dog sitter if they don’t want to leave the frigging mutt home alone. My cat’s been traumatized and he’s an old and crotchety cat with cancer.

Of course, the dog was perfectly well behaved and didn’t cause any problems (other than the traumatized cat). Which undermines my argument considerably. But msotly I’m angry at the complete disregard of my rules — the complete lack of respect for my home.

There was one moment that I thought made a point. The dog climbed onto the arm of my big comfy chair. I snapped “get down from there,” and lifted the dog down.

“WHY!?” asked my mother in her psuedo hurt voice.

“Because I don’t let people or animals sit on the arm of my chairs.” (This has come up with my mother-in-law a lot. You’d think the fifteenth time I asked her to not sit on the arm of my chair she’d learn.)

“But that’s what she does at home,” my mother continued in the same voice.

“I’ll tell you just like I tell The Child. Different people have different rules. We follow the rules of the house.”

My three year old knows that. Why doesn’t my 61 year old mother?

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