My mom asked me to help with some pre-moving moving activities this weekend. Like, pack up and drive some boxes of bric-a-brac and whatnots to the new place.
Me: What time do you want me there on Saturday?
Mom: No, not Saturday. Your brother is helping on Saturday. Come on Sunday.
Me: *sigh* Why not Saturday? We can get more done all together.
Mom: Nope. That's too many people to manage.
Me: That's two of us - one, two....
Mom: No. Sunday. What time is good for you?
Me: Anytime. 8:00? 9:00?
Mom: Oh, that's too early for you on a Sunday morning. How about 10:30?
Me: I can do anytime, ma. How about earlier?
Mom: OK. Let's say 10:00. Between 10:00 and 10:30.
Fine. Set alarm for a leisurely wake-up time.
Sunday morning arrives. The phone rings at 8:45 am.
D. says, "It's gotta be your mother, asking you to come over earlier."
Mom: You can come over whenever you want. Your father is ready for you. You don't have to wait until 10.
Me: OK, I'm not quite together, but, I'll get over there when I can...
Mom: If you stop for coffee, could you bring me some?
Me: Yes...
In the car at 9:40 am, my phone rings.
Mom: WHERE ARE YOU?!?!
Me: I'm picking up the coffee now. What?!
Mom: Your father got tired of waiting for you. I thought you'd be here by now! [she exclaims my first and middle names]
The coffee carrier tips over and spills the coffee on my floor making me practically drive off the road.
9:50, my phone rings.
Dad: WHERE ARE YOU?!?!?
Holy shit. Just stab me in the ear with a bric-a-brac or whatnot.
10:05, I arrive.
Mom: FINALLY!!!
Me: What do you want me to do?
Mom: Oh, we don't have much today, most of the stuff was moved yesterday. I just want to show you a couple of things in the house.
Me: So... you didn't need me to schlep anything?
Mom: Nope.
Me: Need me to clean something?
Mom: No.
Me: Well, I brought you coffee...half a cup, anyway.
Is it me? No really, I want to know - have I brought this on myself? Jeeeeeeeeeeeezus. All this panic and I arrived at the previously agreed-upon time anyway and there was nothing to do. No wonder I have a freakin' anxiety disorder. No, wait, it's not a disorder, it's just my aging parents driving me to drink.
OMG. I totally feel for you, B. Totally. All I can do is continuously chant internally something along the lines of "They love me / I love them / they're getting old / it's not that bad / I can leave soon / how much longer? / how much longer NOW? / omg omg omg /I'm leaving now yay!"
Posted by: KtP | 20 October 2009 at 10:01 PM
OMG! I was cringing when I was reading your blog. It send chills down my spine. I totally feel for you!
Posted by: Tim | 25 October 2009 at 05:00 PM
remind me to tell you the Pumpkin Story. Oh, and I've been drinking too much lately that I haven't had the time to write, what with my wine consumption. I can't wait til the move is done so I can detox.... :)
Posted by: blaugra | 26 October 2009 at 10:13 AM