Hold me.

Posted on July 25, 2010


I’m sick. I have strep and it’s trying to bring me dowwwwwn. Ok, so it brought me down. But I’m a fighter. I’m trying to sit at my desk and write a post in hopes that I give the illness a middle finger. I forced dinosaur chicken nuggets down my throat because I was starving. That hurt like a B. Right now, I just want to be held and comforted. I’m lucky my husband went out and is bringing back some ice cream. I’m sure ice cream will help me. I can feel it cooling my throat. Where is he??

For those who didn’t know already, we currently live with my parents. It’s okay, because we’re Mexican and it’s what you do. Ask my cousins. My uncle still has all six of his kids home, and three of them are married and have children. All they do is add onto their home to accommodate everyone. Yup. That was the plan with my parents when we moved in, but the more we’re around… the more it seems they’d rather have us out. Well, no my Dad loves having us around. It’s my Mom that seems to get pissy. It’s not like we ASKED to move in, they were the ones who kept convincing us what a good idea it’d be. “Oh we can split the bills and help each other out” they said during the winter months, when my Dad’s landscaping business goes down drastically. We gave in and figured the money we’d save on rent we could use towards the additions on the house. It’s been 8 months now, and I don’t see us starting on those additions any time soon. Needless to say, I’m ready to get out.

Husband’s applied to a higher position in his company, and we’re crossing everything we have in hopes he receives an interview. If this position is offered, it’d be a great opportunity to move and get out of this joint. I love being ‘home’, but after awhile you seem to get on everyone’s nerves. My uncles and his six kids may be able to live with each other, but our family isn’t capable of doing so. Despite how much my parents want it to happen…

Anyways, today’s been one of those days. My Mom seems to hate my brother and me because we don’t ‘listen’. I’m sorry, I thought I was supposed to REST while sick. I wasn’t aware the cat’s litter box was meant to be cleaned out every hour. I swear, days like these I feel like I’m 16 again. My Mom hasn’t even asked if I feel okay, how I’m doing, nothing. Out of everyone I want to care… my own mother can’t even seem to give her motherly love to her sick child. If you’re going to treat me like I’m 16, why not act like a Mom?

I’m getting angry now.

But it’s shed light on the situation. We wanted this to work. We wanted to be able to help each other out with the bills and such. I just can’t do it anymore. Even my own husband tells me how high-strung I get after I talk with my Mother. We need to get out. I miss the days when we lived on our own, not worrying about dishes or how clean our rooms are. I didn’t think we’d have to walk on eggshells when we moved in. Overall, my parents have been pretty respectful as to how we lead our lives, but when they have a chance, they’ll give their opinions and it sucks.

What was I thinking when I agreed to move into my parent’s home? Why does my husband have to let me have my way ALL the time? The only thing I’ve liked about living with my parents is the fact that my son can visit his grandparents as long as he wants, as often as he wants. But there is such a thing as having TOO much of a good thing… That brings me to how they implant their ideals, thoughts, opinions into my 3 year old. “Christmas is NOT true!”, he’ll squeal to his class. Ok, how about teaching him that yeah, we don’t celebrate Christmas… but if everyone else wants to, let them. Why should we ruin their fun? Trying to undo these shenanigans of theirs is hard to do. “Oh, Grandpa can have beer because he works hard. Your Dad doesn’t.”, how about teaching him how you DON’T drink? (We’re a straight-edge couple, and hope to give our son the same motto Rollins taught us, “Keep your blood clean, your body lean and your mind sharp”.) And excuuuse me? Your Dad doesn’t work hard? What kind of crap is that to tell a kid about their own father? It was cute after awhile, but my three year old is not YOUR puppet.

I’m getting angry again.

That’s pretty much how the cookie is crumbling. I hope things fall into place. Everything will work out. I love my parents dearly, I do. I’m glad they even let us into their home. But it’s not working. It won’t work. With the communication problems we have, it will never work…

I need a hug.
And my ice cream.

Posted in: Familia