Filed Under Underwear

I told Bill last night that this past week might have been one of the hardest of my life.  He agreed.

I know that sounds dramatic, but when I compare it to other times in my life that I considered tough, it really ranks up there.

You know. . .with weeks like. . .

. . .my first as a mom.  Raging hormones, a delirious lack of sleep, and almost wetting my pants each time I climbed the stairs are burned into my memory. That was a tough one.

. . .my first week as a grad student in Mississippi.  As if the 100+ degree heat with 100% humidity wasn't enough to kill me, 8 of 10 people I met had never seen anyone from New England. . .and weren't really certain they ever wanted to, either.  Try asking for directions in a beat up Dodge with Massachusetts plates in Small Town, Mississippi.  Tough, tough week.

. . .the first week we found out my dad was really, really sick.  You know when you cry so hard and for so long that you literally don't have any tears left?  Yeah.  That bad.

. . .and this one.  No joke.  Here's why. . .

I'm trying really, really hard to make this transition as easy for my folks as it can be.  So I'm constantly making sure the kids are being quiet, clean and polite.  That, in itself, is draining.

Then, I've been cleaning and cooking and cleaning some more.  I'm obsessed with being as helpful as I can be around here.  And there's a whole lot of that to keep me busy.  Most days I look around this place and I don't even know where to start.  I clean and clean and when I'm done, you'd never know what I did. Then again, when the person that takes care of the house is sick and can't do much. . .it doesn't take long for daily chores to turn into one. . .big. . .oh-my-gawd-where-is-the-wine-and-why-is-it-so-expensive-in-this-damn-state? 

There have been plenty good parts of our week, too.  The kids are freaking loving it here.  Cole and my dad have always been close, and he's so happy to be able to see him all the time.  Matilda has the world's best baby temperament and she's been amazing, too.  And it's been awesome to be near my brother and sister-in-law, my niece and my sister and brother-in-law.

But, I wouldn't be being honest with you if I didn't tell you about some of the crazy things I've seen around here in the last couple of weeks.  And this is where I'm glad my folks don't read my blog. . . (funny, right? my own folks. . .hmph).

My dad's organization is slowly killing me.  And by organization, what I really mean, is his lack of ability to file anything important and instead, leaves it in piles around the house in the oddest of places. 

Like. . .the laundry basket.  I actually found important paperwork in a laundry basket.  And I moved it. . you know, to a file cabinet (which they totally own).  Two days later, he's having a fit.  Asking everyone where the paperwork was that he put in the laundry basket.  I told him that I filed it, and he promptly corrected me that it was filed.  Under underwear.  That. Is. Insane.

My mom is a compulsive thrower-away-er.  She throws anything away that's not in it's appropriate place.  Although, I can't really stress this enough. . .THERE ARE NO APPROPRIATE PLACES HERE.  I left a tube of hair wax on the kitchen table the other day for about 9 minutes.  (Yes, there it is folks. . .my secret is out.  I use wax).  I came back for it.  It was gone.  I asked mom if anyone had seen it. . .she looks down at her feet and says in her mousy voice, "I threw it away.  In the paper recycling bin out back."

WHAT?  But it's wax.  In a tube.  There's no paper even on it!  My fault.  Wax doesn't not go on the table in this house.  Not even for 9 minutes. 

My dad is a hoarder, I swear.  But not of stuff like on that show (which I've become addicted to). . .there's no gigantic cage out in the yard full of cats or anything.  He hoards junk food.  And constantly tries to give it to my children. 

Here's a picture I took of the "snack cabinet":

I don't even know what to caption this. . .except maybe "where do you get those cute little pink clothespins to keep your snack bags shut?"  do you see that?  up on the top?

They both are TV addicts.  They are also losing their hearing.  The TV is constantly on and constantly on the highest volume.  There is a TV in each room of this house. . .usually. . .always. . . on.  I wouldn't mind so much if there was anything good on.  You know, like one with CNN or one on a 70s Music Choice channel or one on the Weather Channel or something useful and not so brain piercing in volume.  But they aren't.

They are always on Everybody Loves Raymond.  Always.  Why is this show on 24 hours a day?  It wasn't even good when it was new. . .I actually had a nightmare last night with Ray Romano.  True story.

See you in your dreams, Erika.
Nighty Night!

In fact, as I write this I can hear a TV on in the living room, where Cole is watching Curious George (judge me later), one in the sun room, and my dad also has two radios on. . .both on talk radio.  He must be a cyborg;  capable of receiving multiple amounts of information at once and able to process it at lightening speed.  That's the only answer to this insanity.

Try shutting one off though. . . and he'll ask what happened to Raymond. . .

It's not worth it anyway, because my ears start ringing loudly when it's quiet because they're used to the obscene volume of this household.  Like, when you're trying to go to bed after going to a concert. . .it's like that.

Oh, and side note:  my mom keeps telling me that I remind her of the wife.  What part exactly?  The part where she lets a mediocre-looking man treat her like crap week after week or the part where she has the worst hair stylist on the planet?  Thanks, ma.

There's the thing that they do when I make a meal that they've never had.

Mom:  That's weird, huh?
Me: What's weird, ma?
Mom: You guys eat that?
Me:  Maa. . .it's fricken chicken sausage over pasta.
(I've quickly resorted back to my Massachusetts accent, by the way. . .)
Mom: Think I'll just have a fillet-o-fish.

A fillet-o-fish?  Jesus. 

Then, there's this town.  It used to be a nice factory town a million years ago, but since it's heyday, the factories have closed down and business hasn't really come back.  Here's some pictures of what is considered "downtown" from a walk with the kids this week:

Oh Mom, the store fronts look lovely today.
Does that big "X" mark the spot?

::sigh::

But you know? We're actually having fun. 

Okay, that's a lie. 

We're co-existing peacefully.  Except when I move my dad's paperwork.  But come on. . .I gotta do the laundry!