Show & Tell: The Nana Chronicles (Part 12)

Welcome to Show & Tell!  This is a special series I decided to host after discovering that many bloggers have stories to tell that can’t be told on their own blogs.

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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).

Chicken Fat

(Editor's note: Some people think it's gross but it's really good on toast.)


This is the bowl of chicken fat that has been sitting on my counter since noon the day before yesterday.

That’s right folks, it’s been about 50 hours. Yesterday and today the outside temperature has climbed to about 95 degrees. Having no central air, that brings the kitchen temperature to about 80.

What does that do to a bowl chock full of chicken fat?

Nothing good, that’s for sure.

At this point, I’m leaving the chicken fat just to see what Nana’s
plan is. I’ve learned that we all cope better if I just relinquish the
entire kitchen to her, and try to never, ever go in there for any
reason. We cannot coexist and co-use the kitchen. This is largely
because of things like bowls of chicken fat, but also because she
slowly but surely changes where everything in my kitchen lives and
that drives me fucking crazy. By the end of a 3-4 week visit
everything is put away where it would be in her kitchen.

Dishes are no longer in the cabinet beside the microwave, but instead
where the glasses normally live, in the cabinet beside the fridge. The
glasses are now where the bowls are.

Oh, and guess what I found in the cupboard where I keep my pots? A pot
full of water and cut up potatoes.

Today in the car she was “singing” (that’s in quotes because it
sounded more like cat torture) The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow. But
she didn’t remember any of the words. Not even the most basic ones.
She was actually saying that it will be a nice day tomorrow, never
mentioning the sun’s pending arrival. I wanted to drive into a pole.

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  1. says

    I love the mental image of you surreptitiously sneaking into the kitchen to snap a picture of the bowl of chicken fat. I hope you don’t get flies!!

  2. says

    I’m thinking that the sun will metaphorically come out in about 4 days when she leaves.

    Please pretty please take more pictures! I need to see potato pots in odd places and garbage in the livingroom.

  3. Becky says

    I feel Ur grief Anonymous . . . my SIL does the same thing (as far as rearranging the kitchen) when she comes to visit. It drives me INSANE!!!

  4. says

    My parents were here for about 30 hours. In that time, my mom managed to leave a trail through my entire house. Every. single. room. Took me two days after she left before I found the kitchen sink sponge.

    You’re almost there! And I also want pictures of the random food placed in dishes inside cabinets.

  5. says

    Nothing says love quite like a bowl of old chicken fat. Ewwww! I feel your pain. My MIL (who no longer speaks to me, which is a good deal) used to come and fry all sorts of weird Indian snacks in my kitchen, leaving a slick of grease wherever she went.

  6. says

    I’m in awe. She’s a force. The chicken fat somehow seems more sane than the potatoes in the pot *in* the cabinet. Will she be making vodka?

    • Anonymous Guest Blogger says

      Days old chicken fat is not sane. The potatoes actually have a line of reasoning behind them: Potatoes in the pot ended up cooked for last night’s dinner. She can’t sit still so she cut potatoes first thing in the AM when she had an idle minute. Then they had to go into water so as not to turn brown. Then there was a pot of water out. Things can’t be out! (Except of course for chicken fat and various items that should be in the recycling but instead end up in the toybox.) Where to put the pot full of potatoes and water? Well, pots go into the pot cupboard. What she did not consider was that this is a rotating cupboard so when I swung it open, potato water sloshed all over the clean pots. $#@&

  7. says

    ……I swear to gosh…… She is as batshit as my own mom, except more “productive”. At least, however, you do / did not have to endure her living in your home for over 2 years…….How neither of us have killed them or ourselves is a wonder. You are a saint!

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