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The Nana Chronicles
My MIL is visiting again. She comes twice per year and stays for 3-4 weeks. It’s hard. Real hard. I can’t write about it on my own blog because I can’t risk the wrong person seeing it. So I write here, anonymously, because keeping this stuff in would surely be bad for my health.
These are the Nana Chronicles. In these chronicles, my 4-year-old son will be referred to as ds (dear son), my nearly 2-year-old daughter as dd (dear daughter), and my husband as dh (dear husband).
OK, Nana, we need to have a talk. The things you do are weird and are driving me nuts. Here are a few examples:
When I’m getting my change from the drive-thru, why the fuck are you opening my straw and putting it into my coffee for me? That is a weird thing to do. Get your hands off my straw!
When you’re standing in front of the stairs, and I want to go up the stairs, and I’m obviously standing there waiting for you to get out of my way, why do you freeze like a deer in the headlights? It’s like you get scared, and you just stand there sort of cowering. And in the way. It’s weird. Step aside.
Every single time dd is pooping, you decide to engage her in conversation about the pushing noises she’s making. Every single time this distracts her and she doesn’t poop. Every single time I tell you that those noises means she’s pooping and just let her be, but you can’t help yourself. “What’s the matter? You sound distressed.” It’s not distress, it’s poop. Let the baby poop in peace for fuck’s sake!
Ds is 4-years-old. I feel like I keep reminding you of this. Because he’s 4, he is not as good at putting together puzzles as you are. So, when you embark on a puzzle with him, yelling at him, getting shrill and berating him for not finding the corners fast enough isn’t really very nice. “Use your eyes! I can see lots of edge pieces. No! That one doesn’t have a flat side! Just use your eyes! How come I can see so many?” Then you harp on him for wanting to quit. I’d want to quit too.
Why in the world do you choose the worst and weirdest times to demand something of ds? Like yesterday when I got the kids all ready to go out and play. As we stepped out the door you said to ds, “Time to go upstairs and brush your teeth!” What the fuck? Now I’m put in the weird position of having to either trump you in front of the kids, or force my happy, behaving son back indoors totally unfairly. If you’re wondering why we all pretended not to hear you, it’s because I chose option C: quick get outside and pretend we don’t hear her. (Also not a great lesson for ds, by the way.)
This might come as a shock to you, but your way is not the only way. In fact, it’s not even the best way, or even a very good way. No one, and I mean NO ONE cooks scrambled eggs in a pot. Everyone else in the world uses a pan. You don’t have to prove to me why a pot is better. I don’t think it is and my mind will not change on this one.
It’s not a sin to add seasoning to children’s foods. My kids eat whatever we eat, which, by the way, is actually ideal. This means that their savory foods have salt and other spices in them and their oatmeal has sugar. Fucking sue me! One thing you cannot fault my kids for is eating. They are fantastic eaters and dig in happily to whatever is placed before them. Except your food. Because you make a salt free version for them and it tastes like ass.
I think you are missing the whole point of tupperware. You use a container and then put plastic wrap over the top. Uh, they have lids you know. We have a very good collection of containers with matching lids. I know this is petty, and if you were visiting for the weekend I wouldn’t even mention it. But it’s weeks, and I’m a huge bitch, so I’m going to go ahead and say it while I’m airing all this other stuff.
I feel much better for getting all of this off my chest. So glad we could have this little talk, Nana.
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