My mother in law....a true piece of work. She decided that she needs to come and see our new baby. So, she's taken it upon herself to book an airline ticket to come visit us in the UK in March. We have told her several times to save her money and not come out. She didn't listen. Great. Just what I need. Rob, my hubby, will be unable to get any more leave time, and my girls, Lora and Sasha, will be taking standardized tests in school at that time. I refuse to take them out of school just for my mother in law's one week visit. Not worth it as far as I'm concerned. That means that baby Jake and I will be pretty much stuck with her for the duration.
She's already decided that because I'm nursing Jake, that I must be starving him to death. She made it a point to send baby spoons with rice cereal right before Christmas with a note that says, "Please feed to baby after he's born" implying that my milk won't be enough for him. (she also had a cow over the summer when we were shopping at a Toys R Us in Cambridge because I told her that I would be nursing and therefor didn't want any bottles in my house...she was shocked and said that I shouldn't nurse because "breasts are for sex, not for feeding babies.") She also has it in her head that (even though she's never seen the new baby) I'm holding him too much and spoiling him. Uh, he's a 2 week old baby. He has no form of communication except for crying. And besides, I have 2 other kids that I've not harmed by holding when they were newborn babies, so I think I do know what I'm doing by this point.
I'm dreading her visit. She thinks that anytime you pick up the car keys or your purse, that she must ride along. She'll grab her purse and be in the car before you know it. She acts like a dog who likes to stick its head out the car window......pant, pant, pant.....drives me freaking batty. She also has it in her head that my kitchen must be re-organized each time she comes to visit. Last time, she put the cereal bowls on the top shelf knowing that Rob, who is the tallest, doesn't eat cereal. That means that the girls and I have to use a step stool to reach the bowls.......not fun when you're 5'2" or shorter, let me tell you. One visit, she actually broke a dish from a set of dishes that I told her specifically to not touch because someone dear to me gave them to me right before he passed away and I wasn't ready to use them yet. (That really pissed me off, let me tell you)
I am Snorkpants, and I'm dreading the end of March....