I am prone to migraines and just "I feel really crappy" days. It sucks, but it's a fact of life around here. The kids have learned to tip-toe around me when I am in my migraine cave (AKA my bedroom) and when I finally crawl to the couch to finish out my sentence, they still know to pretty much leave me the hell alone. When I'm having a painful day (due to the residuals of my stroke) they have learned to take care of the homestead. So why is it my mother-in-law (MIL) can't seem to get into the groove with the rest of my family?
When I am feeling less then my perfect self, my MIL feels the need to fill in the gaps. Which would be sweet, if it didn't create a bigger mess in the process. We have learned over the years to keep fast and ready foods on hand for just such a situation. But for some reason that isn't good for my MIL, who I know has all the best intentions at heart.
When I'm sick, she feels the need to start going through the cupboards and constructing overly complicated meals for the kids. And it always consists of things that she finds delicious, like canned asparagus, SOS, pork chop gravy, goulash and lemon-pepper fish. No offense to the fans. But the kids just aren't big on the cuisine. They'd prefer the hot dogs, tuna sandwiches, ramen noodles, eggs and pancakes, or leftovers that we provided for just such an emergency. Not to mention that I have taught all the children a thing or two in the kitchen, so, in short, they will survive.
And then there's the clean-up. I still have to deal with the ever-soaking dishes in my sink, grease on my stove and crumbs on my counter that no one seems to want to actually clean up. So, generally speaking, sick as I am, I get KP duty. Speaking of which, I have recently put foot my down and insisted on rinsing and stacking and using the dishwasher every night. And it has been AWESOME!
Now I ask you, why can't I take a nap on my couch? Heaven forbid I fall asleep because then my MIL will inevitably walk in and ask me if I am asleep. Nope, Not a wink apparently. And I'm not kidding, Every. Single. Time. Why don't I just sleep in my bed, you ask? Out of stubbornness. I refuse to be relegated to my bedroom when I was in the living the whole damn time. I won't have been interrupted for hours. Not until I fall asleep. It's not until I finally hit that comfy snooze-y place that I hear the creak of her bedroom door and footsteps in the hall and the back of the couch shifting with her weight. Whether or not she needs it for support or she's fighting the urge to lay a hand on my forehead, I'm not sure. But then come those magic words:
"Are you sleeping?"
My eyes pop open and a million terrible, sarcastic, rude, grumpy (and somehow entirely appropriate) responses run through my addled brain. But what do I say instead?
"Nope. Just resting for a sec."
I'm such a sucker.
I think when I 'm sick, whether it be migraine, fever, cold or just a bad day, I end up giving my MIL a project for the short term. She loves nothing better than someone to take care of and I get to be that person. I always let her, too, with an eerie calm I never knew I possessed, because I am not the kind of person who likes to be taken care of. In fact, for the most part, I want nothing better than to be left alone.
When I had my stroke in 2010, I had to admit that I needed help. At first it was with my daily activities; showering, eating, walking and even talking. But I recovered pretty well because I was so young, but everyone else's need to care for me never left. And to tell the truth, there are still a lot of things I still need, but I rely solely on my husband for that. Things like being my advocate and driving me around when I can't.
So I understand this "need to care for Laura" syndrome, but I don't always want it. For example, asking me how I'm feeling 10 times day, every day, does not make me feel better. It just makes me examine how I'm feeling 10 times a day. Trying to force chicken broth on me will not make me feel any better. In fact, plain chicken broth is kind of gross and I don't know how anyone can drink that stuff. I don't want you helping me out by doing my laundry because I'm kind of picky about what gets folded and what gets hung up. And I don't want anyone touching my panties but me. That's just weird.
And the closer you get to me when I am actually sick, the higher your chances are that you will catch what I've got. I make the kids avoid my MIL like she's the one with the plague when they're sick in order to keep her healthy, especially during flu season. She is, after all, not in the best of health on her good days. I, however, being the MOM don't get that luxury and sometimes I do actually catch what the kids are passing around. But what does my MIL do when I'm sick? Hover around me like I'm the latest freak at the circus.
The last time I had a sore throat, she made tuna sandwiches for the kids. Correction, I started to make tuna sandwiches and then my MIL wanted to help make dinner so I let her. But she asked me for help every step of the way. What ingredients go in it? Is it thick enough? Thin enough? Salty enough? Dill enough? Will I taste it? I tried to get a clean fork to taste with, but she insisted I use hers. I told her not to eat after me because I was sick (I thought that was a mute point because my coughing and raspy voice surely showed it). But what did she do? She ate off the same damn fork! And sure as shit, a few days later she started complaining about a sore throat.
It's okay, though. She blamed it on the kids.
And now it's my duty to ask her, everyday, "How are you feeling?"
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