How may I serve you today? First of all, let’s back up and tell you a little about me. I get up early, but I’m not particularly a jump out of bed and go morning person. Here’s how I need things to roll….. Alarm goes off at 5:00, I get up and stumble to Keurig, I start coffee, I let the dog out of her cage and take her outside, cold air jolts me awake, I come back in and doctor my coffee, I set down and drink my coffee, read my Bible Study, and start to become a human being. Interrupting this routine doesn’t usually go well for the perpetrator. If the routine is completed, I’m pretty good to go by 5:30-6:00. Whatever you need, I’m on it. Unless, I of course hit snooze 3 times and my routine has to be sped up.

Anyway, 3 mornings this week, as I am standing at the cabinet fixing coffee Grandma has rolled up in the kitchen wanting to know what we were fixing her for breakfast. I do not respond nicely. First morning’s response, “This ain’t the Ritz Carlton. If you want breakfast get to fixing it.” Which was met with, you’re standing right here, why can’t you just fix me breakfast while you’re fixing yours. Well, you see. I am not fixing me breakfast. I am fixing coffee. I will not be eating breakfast for another hour or so. I cannot dilute my coffee. It needs my body to be empty so it goes in full throttle.

The second morning, Jeff was in the kitchen. I didn’t even see her coming. And, out of no where I hear, “Are you fixing my breakfast.” Jeff responds, “Nope, but there’s your half loaf of bread to make toast.” Read the previous post about how much she eats to understand why he said there’s your half loaf. She looks at me, and I gave her, the don’t dare speak before I’ve had at least 10 sips…..

Today, we were asking for it. She ate all the bread yesterday, and I didn’t really have anything for her to fix for breakfast. Sure enough. We roll into the kitchen. Doing the coffee thing, she comes around the corner. “Jeff, what can I have for breakfast.” Daddy boy was on his game this morning. He was already making homemade biscuits. Only because we were out of bread, frozen biscuits, and canned biscuits.

After I come out of the shower, she says, “You’re so mean and hateful.” I hadn’t even said a word at this point. Granted, I probably didn’t speak to her while she was talking to me during coffee hour. I know I hollered at her when she walked in my bedroom this morning  as Jeff and Sam were getting dressed and I was getting ready to get in the shower. I conveniently forget those moments…. “What? Why am I mean?” You talk to me like I am a dog and tell me to fix my own food. You only let me have 2 pieces of bacon, and 2 biscuits. Well, technically based on your diet restrictions, I should let you have none. So, I’m 200% nicer than the doctor already…

In the afternoon, I come home before I pick the kids up from school. Partially, I need to unload my stuff. Mainly, because I want to make sure Gran hasn’t kicked the bucket and the kids walk in and find her. I have all kinds of messed up nightmares about that one. But, I digress…… I mean as soon as I walk in, she starts barking orders at me. Clean the kitchen, why is all that stuff on the kitchen table, what are you fixing for dinner, why did no one come to visit today, nobody even called me on the phone, hand me the phone and call Peggy’s number, something’s wrong with the dog, she’s been sad all day, I need more depends, I’ve been a mess today, get me some prunes, I haven’t been able to poop today. I straight up lie to her and tell her I have the runs too just so I can go to the bathroom and sit in peace and quiet until I run out and get the kids. The funny thing about her demanding I do laundry and clean the house, is that she leaves her lunch mess all over the freaking kitchen. It is baffling. If I sit a glass down for two seconds she is pouring it out and wiping the table it was sitting on. She leaves bowls of soup, plates, pots, whatever sitting out all over the place.

This afternoon, we came home from school, LK got dressed for dance, and I took Sam and his friend with us to dance. Quick side not funny story about that….. I don’t usually take Sam with me on Friday’s. But, since he had a friend, I didn’t want them staying home with Gran, and I hadn’t talked to Jeff to see when he’d be home. So, they went. At dance, there’s this little corner under the cafe bar where all the little boys always sit and play video games. I don’t know why they get under there, but they do. Dance was over, LK came out, I talked to a couple moms, and we walked out….. I totally forgot I had taken Sam and his friend to dance. They never go on Friday’s, so it didn’t even cross my mind again about him being there. Truly, out of sight, out of mind. Thankfully, it hit me before we got out of the parking lot. Whew! Can you imagine the other mom calling me later this evening asking when I was going to bring her son home. Because, for real, those boys would have sat in that corner until their iPads died. Which would have been after the studio closed. Hot mess….

Anyway, we all come home, and I delivered Sam’s friend to his mom before I forgot I had him again. LK runs up stairs to get ready for her friends’ talent show. I was wrapping flowers for her to take. No joke 17 times in 12 minutes she asked me when and what I was fixing her for dinner. Each time, I replied, I am going to fix something very soon, as soon as I get these flowers cleaned up out of the kitchen. As I am getting leftovers out of the fridge to fix us plates, I asked LK what she wanted first so she could be eating and finish getting ready. And, her comes Gran. “I told you, I’m hungry! Get in here and fix my dinner.” Yes ma’am. It’s your world, we’re just living in it. Happy to serve you. What is so freaking frustrating is you ask what she wants, and she always says, “I don’t know, just fix me something.” Or, “I’lll just have what you’re eating.” Nope, it’s leftover night. We all get something different. Pick your poison. Because, as soon as I fix my plate, you’re going to want that and I am going to be ticked.

I really wish I wasn’t getting so annoyed with her demands for service. But, I think it is the demands that are making me so angry. If you know me, you know, if you ask me nicely for something, chances are I am going to die trying to make it happen. But, the moment you tell me I have to do something, I lock up like a bird dog mid hunt. I will not move. I really wish I wasn’t like this, but just count it as one of my many faults, I don’t enjoy being Cinderella before she became Queen. And, there’s only room for one queen in this castle, and at the moment it doesn’t seem to be me.