Well, this has been a painful weekend in many respects. My mom came over for the weekend. That wasn’t painful, I enjoy having her. However, she appears to had brought a stupendous bad-ass of a bacterium with her that has performed a Normandy like invasion of my right sinus cavity and is slowly expanding its beachhead into my ear and jaw. I have called in reinforcements to perform a scorched Earth campaign (10 days of Augmentin).
My mother’s house is sold (well, contract). That’s a good thing. She’ll be moving up with us… and I mean “with” literally. We are all buying a great big house together. So the first few days of her visit was looking for a place. The next few days were talking about the house and financing and space. To quote the internet meme, “The reason children are spoiled is because no one is willing to spank grandma.” So I made sure there was a space that I could send everyone to their rooms if I needed to.
We’ve modified the house slightly so that she has what is, for all intents and purposes, a 900 square foot apartment. My boy effectively gets the game room and the second largest upstairs bedroom. The missus gets the dining room and the small bedroom for studio space. I get an 8×8 office. I’m still wondering how, exactly, that happened. But that’s OK. I can live with it.
Now for the scary part. My mom is still Southern Baptist. I’m pretty sure she knows I’m an atheist by this point, but we spend a lot of time very carefully not talking about it.
She’s going to want to take the boy to Sunday school and for the most part I’m OK with that. My memories of Sunday school are mostly pleasant up until high school. We sang songs and cut out paper and learned things like the Golden Rule. My boy is pretty smart. He’ll figure out pretty quick that prayers aren’t answered. But there are generally some good life lessons in those kinds of environments…
Well… except for the fact, that I don’t trust anyone whom I don’t know personally and is religious. I sure as hell don’t want people I don’t know telling him things. I’m upset enough about him having a regular school teacher other than me (though I freely admit I don’t have the patience for elementary school). And he tends to be emotionally sensitive anyway. Someone starts telling him that he’s a bad person because some invisible sky fairy said so is going to have a rather irate papa cat to deal with.
So that’s part of what’s going on in my head, along with learning all about water softeners, mortgage points, building simulations to compare lenders, and trying to decide if we need certain options or not. Weeeeeeeeee
