OT … Territory Invasion

Not skids this time but .... my mother

She decided to come into town and to be nice and a good daughter I told her she could stay at my place.

Im regretting everything...

Not only is my new place smaller (so I can't hole up in my room to avoid having to make small talk/entertain) but she decides to stay mf ing SEVERAL days as if I'm just as job-free as she is

Like look here, just because you're retired doesn't mean I wanted you to invade my space while I'm working from home and glued to my desk.

I hate how my mom always overextends her stays

I wouldn't have been as triggered if she'd just stayed a weekend but ffs.....!!!!!

Im annoyed as I gawk at her location and pray these days go by FAST and she doesn't annoy tf out of me

I know this sounds mean but ugh I wish my family had enough money to procure hotels or understood anything longer than a weekend (when I'm working) is too much

Lillywy00's blog
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Klingons never know that they

Klingons never know that they are.... Klingons.

When they are family, that is the highest evolution of the Klingon species.

We have purposely had 2Br homes on and off over many years for just this reason. Come visit, we want you to visit, but.... the set up is just claustrophobic enough that you won't stay long term. Our current place is 2Br 2Ba. the guest BR is tight with a Queen bed in it. The closet is small and has our luggage in it. So, visitors get a collapsible luggage rack to put their bags on. Which makes the floor space even tighter.

My parents, when their kids or GKs visit, they want the Klingons to get locked into mom and dad gravity and to never escape. Huge BRs. One for everybody, tons of bathrooms. The pressure is building for DW and I to retire and go do the multigenerational thing with my parents. The downside is all on me. They like my DW far more than they like their own son. So, I would be mom's garden and special projects chore boy. Dad would just laugh and grin because he would not have to do it any longer. Then mom would kick him out to help me.

The closet is small and has

The closet is small and has our luggage in it. So, visitors get a collapsible luggage rack to put their bags on. Which makes the floor space even tighter.

Thisnis how I feel right now like making my space as unappealing as possible for guest who do not understand the assignment (short term only and make yourself sparse)

LOL @ they special projects chore boy

That probably entails some that takes A LOT of time and gotta drop everything to do it and do it with a smile

Yes to the "do it with a smile", do it now...

Yes to the "do it with a smile", do it now, and yes to lots of time.... not to mention pain, frustration, cursing, with no possibility of escape.

When I got stuck at mom and dads from the last WE in Sept until just before TG, dad and I were directed by she who shall must be obeyed to disassemble a carpenter ant riddled picnic table, dispose of it, then move a fire pit.

Not to bad sounding right? WRONG! The first part we made fun. Dad came out to the back forest where the picnic table was with hand tools to disassemble it. I asked if we were moving it. Nope, "We are throwing it away." I told dad to hang on and that I would be right back. I came back 5mins later with ... THE CHAINSAW! Dad's eyes lit up and we had it cut up and in a garbage bin in less than 5mins. Mom came out with the WTF are you two doing look. She said, maybe I wanted that taken apart and for you guys to replace the bad wood and put it back up. Ooops. Sorry mom!

Then we had to move the fire pit. Dad, my brother, and I installed it in 1999 right after the house was built. It took two of us, two heavy dollies, multiple pry bars, a couple of hours of cursing, pulled muscles, etc... to get it just right. How hard could it be to place a metal above ground fire pit and 4 rocks in place? We did it before. A couple of hours, adn done right? WRONG! We did that when I was about 35, dad was 56, and my brother was 29. Meanwhile back at the ranch and 25 years later, dad is 81, I was 59, and my COO brother is off doing his COO thing. The rocks still weigh a minimum of 300lbs each for 3 of them... and one that is about 500lbs. These rocks have been settling into the dirt for 25 years. Regularly watered dirt. They have not eroded a bit, they are now set in well compacted repeatedly watered, heavly bonded soil, and have settled in by anywhere from 6-12 inches depending on which rock you are trying to move.

The light ones (3) we got moved in less than an hour and a half. The thickest one..... 4.5hrs after we first pushed on it.... we finally got it set in the perfect new home picked by she who must be obeyed. Then.... "No, I think we need to shift the whole set up... thata way." We did this shifting thing... twice.

Then after 6 hours of body aching labor, "I want you to dig out the planting bed under our bedroom window so I can plant Hastas. 3hrs later.... I had moved about 5 shovels full of dirt. The bed was nearly solid with Cedar Elm roots from the forest my parents home is built in. Dad and I were ready to sacrifice the CHAIN SAW to the dirt by cramming the blade into the dirt and swizzling it around to rear up the Cedar Elm roots. Then I had a moment of inspiration. "Mom, do you think it would be better if we put rocks or pavers in tpp of the bed so you can plant your Hastas in pots so it is easier to shift things around and put in different plants i fyou want?"

Dad's eyes sparkled, and he gave me a low and slow 5 as ..... Hmmmmm. Mom walked up, did the hairy eyeball walk and calibrated eyeball measure march, and said, that is a great idea. Dad was bouncing around behind her giving me the thumbs up fist pump happy dance.

Since the decision to go away from planting directly in the flower beds and putting pots on top of the beds, the entire horticultural mom-iverse has adopted this model. Dad hired a gardening helper who comes for 3hrs each week to make whatever adjustments she who must be obeyed stipulates. The first stage was dad having 2 cubic yards of crushed pink granite delivered by dump truck to the driveway for the helper to move to the flower beds and deposit about 6 inches thick. Dad wants as close to zero chance as possible for mom to change her mind. That young man works his butt off for 3 hrs every week while dad skips around the inside celebrating that he no longer has to do it.

My mom is a wonderful, indredible, amazing lady. But.... the galley slaves serving life sentences for heresy during the Spanish Inquisition had it easier than anyone doing one of mom's projects. Particularly when that person is one of her boys, or her husband.

As much as dad, my brother, and me grumble about mom projects, many of our best stories and fondest memories are of the quests we have had to overcome getting mom's visions implemented.

Love ya mom!

IDC if it's an emergency they gone have to call somebody else.