Ack! I think I gained weight! I won't call it a gain until I get two bummer weights in a row... but I think I may have gained a pound. Maybe a pound and a half. And I don't care (that much). Being back to our normal daily routine will get me on track with eating. I'm not thrilled if I put on some weight, but I am happy that I haven't started the "well, f*ck it, I'm just going to give up completely" mentality I used to have. Whew.
I figured out today that I'm not upset by what happened this weekend, I'm just upset by how I handled myself in the situation. Mr W calls me "Mt. Saint Lara", because I keep everything calm for a really long time, but when I blow... watch the hell out. I should have been more up front about the things that were bothering me during the visit, instead of bottling it all up. Here's my laundry list:
The ambien thing really ticked me off, especially because my son was comparing me to his father, who is truly an addict (I've already explained how and why about my meds, so I'll spare a repeat). He stuck to his idiocracy despite knowing how careful I am about everything in my life. If I ever get into a car, or do something life threatening... I will stop taking the medicine. However, I most likely will need it forever (he's calling me "dependent"... no fucking duh, but I will do what I need to within reason to be able to work and have any sort of quality of life). Damn it, he should know me better!!! I should not have to defend this.
And now (drum roll)... moving on to the fiance. THIS IS JUST MY SIDE OF THE STORY. This is completely unfair, because she is not able to defend herself here. I don't like talking about people behind their back, it usually doesn't end well for anyone. But, this is my blog, my therapy... so I'm going to say what I think and feel. May god have mercy on my soul...
This is coming from a crazy woman (so I would know)... but she's a crazy woman (girl). On Thanksgiving, I of course had tons of things going on, and I asked everyone to pick up their stuff in our upstairs family room, so everything could be nice for our dinner. She was very put out that I asked her to pick up her own stuff, and starting huffing and slamming things around. I was a little shocked.
Later in the weekend, her son wet the bed (that happens), but she let it sit until the AFTERNOON when I finally ordered my son to get it cleaned up. She also left poopy underwear in the downstairs guest bathroom (more than once), and again, I had to ask my son to please take care of it because the entire basement was smelling. What is wrong with someone to think living like that is ok, much less while a guest in someone's home?
Plus, she's really mean to my son, I see him doing everything, and her complaining about how he's doing it. She's a yeller, and there is no yelling in our house- it's trashy and not effective anyway. It makes me sad and I wonder what in his life lead him to think that being treated this way is acceptable.
But the straw that broke this camels back, is that she was yelling at my six year old. My husband and I went out Friday and Saturday nights, and my daughter was watching her little brother until we got home (and then she could go out, we pay her a small fortune). Anyway, she asked to speak with me alone on Friday night, because she was really upset about the way my son's fiance was yelling at my youngest son. I took my oldest son aside and asked him what was going on. Blah blah blah. Obviously, I should have spoken with her directly. Well, last night... I was trying to let things go (as I had the entire holiday)... until she yelled at my six year old and made him cry.
Wrong move. Make my kid cry, and it's done. Really done. As in do not treat either of my sons that way, ever again. Needless to say, they left and got a hotel room for the night. And, I did not stop them. I feel horrible, and I know I've alienated my oldest. My husband keeps trying to say things to make it better. But, nothing justifies what I said. I told my son to "f" off. I should never have said that to my child, no matter how right I was (or wasn't). But I was right.
I guess I'm the cliche m-i-l from hell. I never in a million years imagined it would be this way. I've always liked his girlfriends, and we've all gotten along so well. I don't understand this relationship at all. And I want my door to be open to him, because I'm worried that he won't turn to me if he decides he needs someone.
There you have it.