Sunday, Mar. 03, 2019 - 5:27 p.m.

Sunday dinner time: so defeated and exhausted from trying to make the house decent enough that mom will manage not to comment on it that I don’t want to have to make dinner.

I want to stop having Sunday dinner. It is my least favorite time of the week and I don’t know who I’m even doing it for. J I guess, so he can feel good for helping me do my duty toward my mother. Even though that doesn’t really work.

Comes in, tries to hug and talk to children who don’t want to be talked to. Eventually makes passive aggressive comment about at least one of the following: the mess, the quantity of toys, the toy she doesn’t remember seeing so assumes it’s another new one and implies the other grandparents have been spoiling them again, or the fact that I can’t give all my attention to her. I could do a Dinner With Grandma bingo card and we would win every time.

The other day she called in the morning and I answered. E woke and came in crying frantically. I had already been talking to her long enough so I said I have to go, E needs me, he just woke and is upset. “Yes, I hear that. You tell him grandma says to be quiet for a minute so she can finish talking.”

And that’s my mom. She has this faux-jolly voice for saying stuff like that so she can pretend it’s just a joke. But it isn’t and we all know it.

I shouldn’t still be so fixated on her. I should be a fucking grownup by now. Oh well.

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