It’s a ridiculous time in the middle of the night and I’m still awake. Tired, but awake.
Daughter unit finally got on the spousal unit’s last nerve this week when she announced that she wasn’t going to be cooking any time in the foreseeable future, thank you very much. She claims she’s got finals (a month before school’s out??) and isn’t eating herself because she doesn’t want to wake my cousin, who’s sleeping in the living room. As if anybody believed that. This week was extra rough on me because in addition to babysitting my grandson (for free, of course) I’ve had to be responsible for cooking every night, ergo my pain level’s gotten out of control again. I even had to wash baby clothes in order for my grandson to have something clean two nights ago when I got him out of the bathtub. Which G and I also do – bathe the baby. Doesn’t fit into my daughter’s social schedule. I also had to drive an extra 45 miles or so after work one night to take care of the registration for her vehicle. Long story. And she took it out on me because I told her it was going to require her to pay about $5 over what she’d budgeted for it, and she’s nearly out of money.
Which somehow is my fault despite her recent trip to Vegas with friends.
G and my cousin do the only cleaning that’s done anywhere in the house, daughter is allergic to anything that resembles cleaning. Not allergic as in, to cleaning products, just allergic to anything that requires her to lift a finger that isn’t directly connected to her socializing.
Last weekend when I asked the daughter about fixing a meal she stared at me like I’d sprouted horns and informed me that weekends were her “days off”. So apparently every day is now her day off.
That, together with the rising mountain of dirty clothes and dirty dishes and the disgustingly filthy bathroom she leaves in her wake, prompted spousal unit to tell her in no uncertain terms to move her sorry butt out. I kept my mouth shut, not because I disagreed but because I learned with this daughter if I’d said anything it would’ve taken on nuclear proportions. The fallout would have been too ugly for recovery, and not just in terms of family schisms. I won’t risk my grandson’s safety nor mine and G’s, and this daughter has a history of violence. Granted, it was when she was a teenager, but her basic personality is still wedged firmly into the same petty, childish entitled mindset. I don’t trust her and don’t want to go down that glass-strewn road. Not only do I not want G or I to be hurt, but I’m afraid if my daughter takes that turn again she might well take it out on my grandson. She’s already pretty verbally abusive toward him when she’s mad and I’ve seen her jerk him around by the arm, too. Not to the point of doing any real damage at this point, but…
Yes it really did get that nasty and no, I wouldn’t put anything past her.
Daughter’s gone for the moment. I assume she’ll be back tomorrow with the baby (who’s thankfully at his daddy’s house for the weekend.) The daughter who’s been living with us announced she was probably going to move in with her big sister, but I think she’s in for a big surprise when she talks to Big Sister. She forgets, Big Sister is my daughter too and we’ve been talking a lot lately. Let’s just say I think that’s not a door that’ll be open to Little Sister any time soon.
I’m still very grateful for my home and my job, and I know things will work out one way or another. My daughter needs to get her life together: I don’t see that happening any time soon, and know it will never happen while she’s living here. We were doing our best to help her get through school, but she’s now almost four years into a two-year degree and the end isn’t in sight. I’m over it, already.