So tonight was my writing class. The class was a gift from Da Man for Christmas, along with a tattoo (have I mentioned that I got new ink?), and I was so happy about it. One hour a week I am allowed to leave the house without kids, without anyone. And I love it. The class is only eight weeks long, which kind of blows, and because of things, the latest being that nasty shit and barf thing with the girls last week, I have missed two weeks.
Tonight I left the house and went to class. And I had a blast. I had missed last week's class so I didn't know I was supposed to bring something that I have written to read, so I told a story. The class laughed at my story and I laughed too. On the way out the door I became involved in a couple of conversations with the girls in the class and I left feeling almost light.
And then I got home.
"Where have you been" was the first thing I heard from C. I ignored him because it was obvious where the hell I had been Granted, with travel time included, I was gone for almost a solid two hours. Two friggin' hours.
I walked into mom's living room and knew the look on her face. It was that nasty look of hers that made me immediately want to scoop the girls up and just head to my apartment without even speaking to her. But Mak was standing in the doorway waving at me and saying, "Hi, mama," and Grace was coloring. Things didn't look bad.
But mom had that look on her face.
For the next few minutes I heard nothing but how badly behaved the girls had been and how they were driving her and C crazy with their fighting and blah blah blah. "How many more weeks am I going to have to do this for you," she hissed. And I instantly felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I told her I thought I had two weeks left. Her sigh deafened me. So I began telling the girls to get the stuff put away so we could go home. And just when I thought I could control my mouth, C had to open his. He came off with some kind of comment about having to watch them every Thursday and I lost it.
But I lost it in a bad way, telling Mak to please get off the floor so we could go home because her grandparents didn't want to be around her anymore. Yeah, I know, that was fucked of me, but I didn't care. And Mak probably didn't understand what I was saying anyway.
Then mom went on the defensive and I did the same. I finally got the girls home, after pointing out to mom and C that if they don't like the way the girls are behaving then they may actually consider getting off their lazy asses and correcting them, pointing out that I knew that was a novel idea, being the adult.
We left and while I was herding Grace into the bedroom, mom began to yell for me that Da Man was calling. He called to see how class had gone. I told him class was fine, but he questioned me because defeat was strong in my voice. I told him that I had been feeling wonderful until I walked into mom's place and was told how bad the girls had been and how crazy they had made her.
See, that's the thing. I do everything for fucking everybody in my life. Everyfuckingbody. And I was so excited that I was going to get one measly hour a week to myself. Then one of the ungrateful ones had to open their fucking holes and spout off.
I wish that I had someone, anyone I could trust, in my life who would watch the girls on Thursday nights. But I don't. And I didn't think an hour a week was too much to ask of anyone. But when I pointed out to my mom that I needed some time to myself, she was quick to retort that she had spent all of her waking moments with me and my brother all the time and she never had time to herself. Whatever. She did a real bang up job of raising me and my bro too.
I want to scream at her but I won't. I also want to ask her for a ride up town in the morning for that all day meeting I have. But I won't because I have already asked her if she would be home in time tomorrow to take Da Man to work and pick me up (my meeting is right across the street from his work). I just don't want to put up with that mouth of hers.
And then as if to swing things back in her favor tonight, she began coughing and said, "There's something bad wrong with me." I asked her three times what she thought was wrong with her and didn't get an answer, so I told her that I had been on her for months to go to the damned doctor. Grace piped in with a "You don't even have to schedule your own appointment, grandma, because mom will do that for you because that's what she does for everybody." See, even Grace has a small grasp as to who carries the load around here.
And now I am done bitching. Well, at least for now.