The Welcome Mat

It is time to reluctantly roll out the welcome mat. The parental units are coming in on Friday. My parents rare visits stress me out. A lot. I have a shaky relationship with them at best. Any visit with my parents has an expiration date. My mother's visit expiration date is about an hour after the visit starts. My dad I can handle for about two days. So what am I going to do this weekend.

My dad called a few weeks ago to ask a favor. My family only calls when they want something. Highly irritating. My cousin, who is old enough to be my father, is getting married. And apparently my parents want to go. Remember back in October when I told the previous wedding saga. My mom did not want to go to my brother's wedding. Granted it was his third, but he is still her son. And the hands down favorite. However, she is willing to go to my cousin's wedding and it is his second. I have not asked the sis-in-law how she feels about that.

So my parents do not drive anymore, except in the town where they live. We are all thankful for that. But that means that I, as the lucky one who lives in the hub gets to play chauffeur. Dang. My parents are coming in on the bus on Friday. However, they have not told me which one they are coming in on and where they want to be picked up. Which means I either call them to get the info or hope I choose wisely. If I chance it, I will hear about it the entire weekend if I choose poorly. So I will call them tomorrow.

I have never in my entire life done anything that my mother is proud of. She always found a way that I could have done better and told me exactly what was lacking. She never tells me that she loves me. She shows no interest in my children, her only blood grandchildren. She does not interact with them at all. And that is what bothers me the most. She nagged for years about grandkids. She shows no interest in me. Her mother was my very favorite person in the world, and they are so very different. So to say that I am dreading this visit is an understatement. I must pick up my Ambien so I don't stay awake all night fretting about everything that I will be doing wrong.

They are staying until Sunday afternoon. They cannot entertain themselves. They complain about everything. And they are allergic to everything. Earth, wind and fire. I am not kidding or exaggerating. Granted 95% is in their heads, but what do I know. If I eat cherries, I could die. The kind where you stop breathing, so long, see you at the pearly gates kind of dead. If they have an ache or a pain, they ate something they were allergic to. And they are dying in agony and we all get to hear it play by play. It has nothing to do with their age, weight, fitness levels or anything else. It all relates to what they ate. The fact that they are in their 70's, obese, get no exercise and have never taken particularly good care of themselves would not cause any aches and pains. It is only what they ate! And it changes by the year. "Oh, you can eat wheat now, super! But you can't have eggs, that's too bad." Granted the allergies only apply if it is convenient for them. If they want something, they eat it anyway.


Saturday is the big event. The event that I would not have been invited to except I am the chauffeur. So while Ducky and the boys go off and do something fun, I get to babysit my parents. And no matter what I do, I will hear through the grapevine what I didn't do or say and provide. I hate the dutiful daughter role. I can't plan an outing because they are both in such bad shape that no walking can be included.

The weekend looks like this: Spend two hours picking them up and bringing them back to the house on Friday. Sit like bumps on logs the rest of the night. Saturday, sit like bumps until it is time to spend two hours on the way to the wedding. Hang out at wedding with people I don't know for who knows how long. Spend two hours in the car on the way home. Sit like bumps. Sunday, sit like bumps. Spend two hours in the car dropping them off and then coming home to collapse from exhaustion from holding it together all weekend. And I will have to drive the van because they will not be able to get in the back of my bug and because I will have the boys and the bug only seats four.

Yes, I know I am whining, but there is no way this can end happily. Help me....