Evil Shorty left this morning!!! I'm so damn happy, I can't think straight. Evil Shorty kept trying to prolong her leaving, but I put my foot down. After all, she insulted me and Mother. Then she said that she was moving in with Mike. Okay, Evil Shorty, Adios hija de puta.
Kevin and I went out to dinner last night to celebrate. We drank margaritas and wrote up a plan just in case Evil Shorty might break down and cry and beg to stay. Fortunately, we didn't need to implement it. When I woke up this morning, the evil cloud that had been hovering over our house for over two years was gone. Happy days are here again. The sun is shinning. What a wonderful day! Life is worth living.
Mother doesn't seem too happy about it. She's been looking like a deer in headlights. She finally said, "Are you going to get rid of me too?"
I said, "If you start verbally attacking people and don't respect boundaries, heck yeah."
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Setting Boundaries with Four Generations in One House
Well, it's been over two years since Mother and Evil Shorty have lived with me in my expensive house I can't afford. Right now I work four part time jobs. My husband has two full time jobs. We don't mind working a lot. I don't have a problem being broke all the time. I'm grateful for all my jobs, especially because jobs are so hard to come by these days. All my jobs are virtually stress free, and I'm happier than hell to get out of my house each day and go to work.
I realized that living in a house for over two years with four generations of women and no boundaries is like trying to make my way through a land field each day without setting off any explosions. Don't step here. Don't push this button over there. Well, it's too late. Explosions are going off everywhere, and I've reverted back to old behaviors to try and control a situation that is not controllable.
Evil Shorty has got to go. I know most people would think that it's horrible to send an old, 94 year old woman to stay with her gambler son in his hell-hole in Vegas. However, after two years of verbal abuse, constant yelling, water running endlessly down drains, refrigerators doors being left open for light, feeding dogs fast food and chocolate cake, cleaning an old lady's vomit and nasty toilet, refusal to wear hearing aids, cleaning spilled coffee on floors and baseboards, things being stolen from my bedroom, and other acts of random violence, I think I've put in my time for the official co-dependent dumb bitch of the year award.
Evil Shorty has got to go. Not in one month, not in two months, I told her and Mother today she's got to pack and be out in two weeks. Evil Shorty asked me if she could come back in six months. I told her to think about her behavior and her lack of appreciating what people do for her. I told her she never thanks Mother for taking her to the doctor, picking up her prescriptions, cooking her meals, making her gourmet coffee every day, running to the store for half n' half every other day, doing her laundry, and paying for the dogs to have stomach medicine from the vet every couple months because she refuses to stop feeding the poor, chubby, wobbly dogs. Evil Shorty just snarled at me and said, "You've changed."
"That's right Evil Shorty and you're a done deal." After all, she's the one who said she was going to do me a favor and move out. "Great, Evil Shorty, move out."
I've always been a believer that in our house our common welfare comes first. For the past two years, I've forgotten that concept. If someone cannot respect boundaries and upsets everyone else in the house, well then it's time for a little change. The dog days of Evil Shorty are coming to an end real soon. The next two weeks are going to be filled with whining and crying and begging and complaining, but oh well. It's not like I'm not used to torture after two years of hell.
I realized that living in a house for over two years with four generations of women and no boundaries is like trying to make my way through a land field each day without setting off any explosions. Don't step here. Don't push this button over there. Well, it's too late. Explosions are going off everywhere, and I've reverted back to old behaviors to try and control a situation that is not controllable.
Evil Shorty has got to go. I know most people would think that it's horrible to send an old, 94 year old woman to stay with her gambler son in his hell-hole in Vegas. However, after two years of verbal abuse, constant yelling, water running endlessly down drains, refrigerators doors being left open for light, feeding dogs fast food and chocolate cake, cleaning an old lady's vomit and nasty toilet, refusal to wear hearing aids, cleaning spilled coffee on floors and baseboards, things being stolen from my bedroom, and other acts of random violence, I think I've put in my time for the official co-dependent dumb bitch of the year award.
Evil Shorty has got to go. Not in one month, not in two months, I told her and Mother today she's got to pack and be out in two weeks. Evil Shorty asked me if she could come back in six months. I told her to think about her behavior and her lack of appreciating what people do for her. I told her she never thanks Mother for taking her to the doctor, picking up her prescriptions, cooking her meals, making her gourmet coffee every day, running to the store for half n' half every other day, doing her laundry, and paying for the dogs to have stomach medicine from the vet every couple months because she refuses to stop feeding the poor, chubby, wobbly dogs. Evil Shorty just snarled at me and said, "You've changed."
"That's right Evil Shorty and you're a done deal." After all, she's the one who said she was going to do me a favor and move out. "Great, Evil Shorty, move out."
I've always been a believer that in our house our common welfare comes first. For the past two years, I've forgotten that concept. If someone cannot respect boundaries and upsets everyone else in the house, well then it's time for a little change. The dog days of Evil Shorty are coming to an end real soon. The next two weeks are going to be filled with whining and crying and begging and complaining, but oh well. It's not like I'm not used to torture after two years of hell.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Running Water and Evil Shorty
Now that the water company is going to raise water rates in July, my husband and I are making plans to conserve water. When Mother and Evil Shorty were not looking, we installed water savers on all the faucets in the house.
Evil Shorty lets the water run and run. Many times I walk by a bathroom and the water is running. No one is around. Evil Shorty has been at it again. I turn the water off. Our monthly water bill averages $70 a month, which is ridiculous. Before Mother and Evil Shorty moved in, the water bill was $40 a month. Kevin and I have been reminding everyone, including Evil Shorty, that there is a water crisis in California and the rates are going up. Kevin put signs up in the kitchen, bathroom, and laundry area that say, "Please do your share and conserve water."
Evil Shorty does not get it. Her attitude with everything is, "Screw you guys. I'm just going to do what I want."
So, Kevin has been telling Shorty constantly to turn off the water. He points to the faucet and turns it off. Then he points to the conserve water sign. Evil Shorty says, "Oh yeah, okay. okay."
Yesterday, while Kevin was at work. Evil Shorty was at it again with the water in the kitchen. Like I've done so many times before, I go into the kitchen and turn the water off. I tell Evil Shorty there is a drought and we need to save water. Because she's not wearing her hearing aids and pretends not to hear, she says, "what? WHAT?" I go under the sink, and turn off the water.
Five minutes later I hear the water in the bathroom sink running. Okay, so she's in the bathroom running the water. The water goes off. Two minutes later the water is running again. It stops. It starts again. It stops. It starts. After thirty minutes of this, I write Evil Shorty a note. "Stop using the water so much. We have to conserve it. There is a drought in California."
Evil Shorty looks up at me and says in her smart-ass tone, "Well I'm just going to do you a favor and move out. I'm going to move in with Mike." Mike is Evil Shorty's gambler son who lives in a Vegas hell hole near the Strip. Whenever Shorty goes to Vegas, her money dwindles by hundreds of dollars and that's just for a short trip.
I can't believe my luck. I say to Evil Shorty, "Go. Move out." I go to my room. The next thing I know Evil Shorty is beating on my door yelling my name.
I open the door.
Shorty snarls at me, "You've changed. You used to be nice. Don't you remember everything I've done for you?"
I tell Shorty the only thing she has done for me is tell me I would never amount to anything, called me fat, and said I was just like my mother. I close my bedroom door and lock it.
Evil Shorty starts beating on the door again. I'm not letting her in. She starts to do her fake vomiting and coughing. In her evil voice she says, "There you've made me vomit. You can clean it up yourself."
I open the door, see there's no vomit and I tear into the four foot evil bitch. For two years I've allowed her to verbally attack me, my mother, and my daughters. Now she's done wreaking havoc in my house. Evil Shorty doesn't get a word in probably for the first time in her evil life. I tell her she's done crossing boundaries in this house. No more feeding the dogs cheese, donuts, and McDonalds, no more telling my mother she's fat, ugly, worthless and a nothing. No more yelling at my kids, and she needs to pack up and get out.
Evil Shorty says, "I'm so glad to be moving out." He he he (evil laugh)
Mother, who has been sick, comes out of her room and says, "Let's go Mother. I'm taking you to Vegas."
I can't believe my luck. I'm so happy. I go back to my room and listen for the sound of tires screeching away from my house, from my life. Thank God that crazy bitch is gone. I text my husband the good news. He's relieved to see her go. We don't even care about the rent she pays. It's not worth the $400 in utility bills and aggravation each month.
Just as I'm feeling peaceful and happy, Mother returns with Evil Shorty. They were not even gone 30 minutes.
Mother gives me her big puppy-eyed look. I say, "Mother, you've been bitching and complaining about your mother for two years. Now's the time to stand up to her.
Mother sits down and tells Evil Shorty what an evil bitch she really is. Mother says she's tired of her feeding the dogs and making them fat. Evil Shorty denies it. Mother says she's tired of being called fat, an elephant, a nothing, a worthless piece of shit. Shorty denies it. The drama is relentless. I text my husband. "Come home now."
When my husband comes home we all tell Evil Shorty how mean she is and how she does not respect anyone's boundaries. Evil Shorty tries to change the subject. We steer it back to the issues.
Finally, in a last ditch response Evil Shorty admits she's a mean bitch because she cares so much about everyone. We tell her no more verbal abuse and no more feeding the dogs. Shorty says she's moving out. She's supposed to leave in two days. Great.
An hour later, she's staying for a month to pack.
Two hours later, she's staying for two months because Mike is going on a trip.
I tell Mother, "Enough, she needs to be out soon, not two months, not one month." I say, "She needs to be out in a week. She's Mike's problem now. You've been taking care of her for over ten years. She's out of here."
Today my husband brought home boxes for her to pack. I dumped them on the floor in her room.
She hasn't started packing yet.
I asked Mother, "Has your mother been nice to you today."
Mother looks up at me with her puppy-dog eyes, "She been real nice to me today. Real nice."
Evil Shorty lets the water run and run. Many times I walk by a bathroom and the water is running. No one is around. Evil Shorty has been at it again. I turn the water off. Our monthly water bill averages $70 a month, which is ridiculous. Before Mother and Evil Shorty moved in, the water bill was $40 a month. Kevin and I have been reminding everyone, including Evil Shorty, that there is a water crisis in California and the rates are going up. Kevin put signs up in the kitchen, bathroom, and laundry area that say, "Please do your share and conserve water."
Evil Shorty does not get it. Her attitude with everything is, "Screw you guys. I'm just going to do what I want."
So, Kevin has been telling Shorty constantly to turn off the water. He points to the faucet and turns it off. Then he points to the conserve water sign. Evil Shorty says, "Oh yeah, okay. okay."
Yesterday, while Kevin was at work. Evil Shorty was at it again with the water in the kitchen. Like I've done so many times before, I go into the kitchen and turn the water off. I tell Evil Shorty there is a drought and we need to save water. Because she's not wearing her hearing aids and pretends not to hear, she says, "what? WHAT?" I go under the sink, and turn off the water.
Five minutes later I hear the water in the bathroom sink running. Okay, so she's in the bathroom running the water. The water goes off. Two minutes later the water is running again. It stops. It starts again. It stops. It starts. After thirty minutes of this, I write Evil Shorty a note. "Stop using the water so much. We have to conserve it. There is a drought in California."
Evil Shorty looks up at me and says in her smart-ass tone, "Well I'm just going to do you a favor and move out. I'm going to move in with Mike." Mike is Evil Shorty's gambler son who lives in a Vegas hell hole near the Strip. Whenever Shorty goes to Vegas, her money dwindles by hundreds of dollars and that's just for a short trip.
I can't believe my luck. I say to Evil Shorty, "Go. Move out." I go to my room. The next thing I know Evil Shorty is beating on my door yelling my name.
I open the door.
Shorty snarls at me, "You've changed. You used to be nice. Don't you remember everything I've done for you?"
I tell Shorty the only thing she has done for me is tell me I would never amount to anything, called me fat, and said I was just like my mother. I close my bedroom door and lock it.
Evil Shorty starts beating on the door again. I'm not letting her in. She starts to do her fake vomiting and coughing. In her evil voice she says, "There you've made me vomit. You can clean it up yourself."
I open the door, see there's no vomit and I tear into the four foot evil bitch. For two years I've allowed her to verbally attack me, my mother, and my daughters. Now she's done wreaking havoc in my house. Evil Shorty doesn't get a word in probably for the first time in her evil life. I tell her she's done crossing boundaries in this house. No more feeding the dogs cheese, donuts, and McDonalds, no more telling my mother she's fat, ugly, worthless and a nothing. No more yelling at my kids, and she needs to pack up and get out.
Evil Shorty says, "I'm so glad to be moving out." He he he (evil laugh)
Mother, who has been sick, comes out of her room and says, "Let's go Mother. I'm taking you to Vegas."
I can't believe my luck. I'm so happy. I go back to my room and listen for the sound of tires screeching away from my house, from my life. Thank God that crazy bitch is gone. I text my husband the good news. He's relieved to see her go. We don't even care about the rent she pays. It's not worth the $400 in utility bills and aggravation each month.
Just as I'm feeling peaceful and happy, Mother returns with Evil Shorty. They were not even gone 30 minutes.
Mother gives me her big puppy-eyed look. I say, "Mother, you've been bitching and complaining about your mother for two years. Now's the time to stand up to her.
Mother sits down and tells Evil Shorty what an evil bitch she really is. Mother says she's tired of her feeding the dogs and making them fat. Evil Shorty denies it. Mother says she's tired of being called fat, an elephant, a nothing, a worthless piece of shit. Shorty denies it. The drama is relentless. I text my husband. "Come home now."
When my husband comes home we all tell Evil Shorty how mean she is and how she does not respect anyone's boundaries. Evil Shorty tries to change the subject. We steer it back to the issues.
Finally, in a last ditch response Evil Shorty admits she's a mean bitch because she cares so much about everyone. We tell her no more verbal abuse and no more feeding the dogs. Shorty says she's moving out. She's supposed to leave in two days. Great.
An hour later, she's staying for a month to pack.
Two hours later, she's staying for two months because Mike is going on a trip.
I tell Mother, "Enough, she needs to be out soon, not two months, not one month." I say, "She needs to be out in a week. She's Mike's problem now. You've been taking care of her for over ten years. She's out of here."
Today my husband brought home boxes for her to pack. I dumped them on the floor in her room.
She hasn't started packing yet.
I asked Mother, "Has your mother been nice to you today."
Mother looks up at me with her puppy-dog eyes, "She been real nice to me today. Real nice."
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Lost Hearing Aids
Evil Shorty never likes to wear her hearing aids, so whenever she asks me something, I always shrug and point to my ears as if to say, Why talk to me when you can't hear me?" Usually Shorty will say, "okay, okay, I'll go put on my hearing aids." Most of the time, if I'm lucky, she forgets to come back to talk to me with her hearing aids on.
Shorty's been complaining a lot to Mother about having to wear her hearing aids. I can hear Shorty telling Mother, "I'm too old to bother with hearing aids."
Suddenly, Shorty cannot find her $5000 hearing aids. She can't remember where she put them. I still shrug at her when she wants something. I try to make a fast exit. I keep my doors to my bedroom closed. But Mother, well she's gotten into the habit of yelling at Shorty now just because the evil woman "lost her hearing aids." All day long the conversations go like this:
Shorty asks Mother something and Mother answers.
Shorty says, "What? WHAT?"
Mother yells back something.
Shorty yells, "WHAT? WHAT?"
Mother yells, "HOW IN THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO TALK TO YOU?"
This goes on all day long. I told Mother, "Please take her to get more hearing aids."
Mother said, "Okay, okay."
The day they're supposed to go get new hearing aids I hear Shorty say, "Barbara (that's Mother) I'm too old to get hearing aids. Who's going to want to listen to an old lady? I'm 95 years old. I don't want to get hearing aids. Why do I need them?"
Mother relents, "Okay, Mother."
Ever since Shorty "lost" her hearing aids, it's been non-stop yelling around here. Mother cusses non-stop while Shorty yells, "WHAT? WHAT?"
Shorty's been complaining a lot to Mother about having to wear her hearing aids. I can hear Shorty telling Mother, "I'm too old to bother with hearing aids."
Suddenly, Shorty cannot find her $5000 hearing aids. She can't remember where she put them. I still shrug at her when she wants something. I try to make a fast exit. I keep my doors to my bedroom closed. But Mother, well she's gotten into the habit of yelling at Shorty now just because the evil woman "lost her hearing aids." All day long the conversations go like this:
Shorty asks Mother something and Mother answers.
Shorty says, "What? WHAT?"
Mother yells back something.
Shorty yells, "WHAT? WHAT?"
Mother yells, "HOW IN THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO TALK TO YOU?"
This goes on all day long. I told Mother, "Please take her to get more hearing aids."
Mother said, "Okay, okay."
The day they're supposed to go get new hearing aids I hear Shorty say, "Barbara (that's Mother) I'm too old to get hearing aids. Who's going to want to listen to an old lady? I'm 95 years old. I don't want to get hearing aids. Why do I need them?"
Mother relents, "Okay, Mother."
Ever since Shorty "lost" her hearing aids, it's been non-stop yelling around here. Mother cusses non-stop while Shorty yells, "WHAT? WHAT?"
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)