I Love: My Mom. I Don't Love: Living with My Mom.

It was inevitable. Things were going too well. I don't know why I didn't see it coming.

I mean, I'm a married woman. I have run my own household for going on 10 years. I have been financially independent for going on the same decade. But I had to move in with Mom.

My mom is an amazing woman. Seriously. I could go on forever about how she was an opera singer, became an incredibly successful stockbroker with no college education (other than performing arts school, and we know how THAT goes), divorced an incredibly abusive mother and first husband, raised three children and pulled her second husband out of a mountain of debt due to a disastrous first marriage, is a painter, a quilter, a chef, a master gardener, etc. etc. etc., but you might not believe me. In short, she is fucking AMAZING.

HOWEVER! One of the main character issues that comes with the territory of an overachiever (and trust me on this, I AM my mother's daughter) is the control issue.

So, how I ended up living with my mother, again:

Me and my hubs R are building a house. It is on a beautiful piece of land that feels like it is in bum-fuck, but is only 20 minutes from our downtown area. This has been a slow process, starting in March (our land is only just now graded, for those of you to have built your own house, and this is very necessary as we live in the mountains). We put our condo on the market, and wonder of wonders, it sold in a little over a month. Yippee for us! Condo is sold! Bad for us, house is not built, nowhere to go.

My mom has a big ass house. 6 bedrooms, lots of living area, a bar in the basement (seriously, it's awesome), a hot tub, fenced in for the pups. So she offers to let us stay there while we save more money for the house building. R and I think, great! We can save money! But how long can we actually live with her??

Well, it takes about three months to get to the center of the fucking tootsie pop, my friends. Three. Long. Months.

Several Reasons Why The Last Three Months Have Been The Longest Three Months of My Life:

1. My mom's house is for sale. This makes my perfectionist mother an absolute nightmare to live with about house cleaning. And me and the hubs are pretty neat people. She is the Ghangis Kahn of clean.

2. My mom's bitter mood swings. She's working it out. And we are the chopping block.

3. My social life consists ONLY of going out. Rarely do I invite people over, because I will have to deal with the passive aggressive repercussions for weeks afterwards. (Mom: Boo, have you cleaned up the corners of the bathroom where your friend [insert cool, nice friend's name here] might have stepped in dog poo and then walked into the corner in the bathroom? Me: Ummm..... not so much. Mom: *BALLISTIC*)

4. I can't walk around naked. I mean, I could if I wanted to, but come on, that makes for the most embarrassing conversation about groceries I never want to have.

5. Everything strange that happens in the house is the direct fault of me or my hubs.

6. Me and hubs had to celebrate our first wedding anniversary there, with my mom watching some crap really loudly on the TV. We finally decided to scrap a home cooked meal and go out and get drunk.

7. My mom's new PDA has speakerphone. She uses it ALL THE TIME. It is really annoying.

8. Our bedroom is directly beneath the kitchen, and even on the weekends my mom is up around 6am. BOOO for sleeping in!!!

9. My mom has extended big cable package, and watches complete crap on it all day long. Example: you know that really fucking annoying Geico commercial with the cavemen, and how they are making an actual sitcom out of that shit? (I'm dead serious.) My mom is SO into that.

10. And lastly, the biggest reason why living with my mom is unbearable right now: she makes me call her if I'm going to be out late. I'M a 27 YEAR OLD MARRIED WOMAN, AND SHE ACTS LIKE I STILL HAVE A CURFEW.


So, I know all two of you are thinking, Well, Boo, why not just move out?

At the end of June, me and the hubs signed a lease to rent a little house until our new house is built (halleluiah). This little house is so cute. The yard is fenced in for the pup, it is only a 7 minute walk to my office, a 2 minute walk to the awesome organic foods store, and an 8 minute walk to the bars downtown. On the first day of July, we started bringing boxes from our storage unit into said house. After about 5 minutes, I look down at my feet, and they are covered, and I mean COVERED, in fleas. GAH!!! GAH GAH GAH!!!!

We bomb the house. Next day we go back, fleas are still there. We bomb it again. Next day we go back, fleas are still there. We call Terminix and they spray the shit out of it. Fleas ARE STILL THERE!!!!! To date, Terminix has sprayed the house 4 times, and I just heard from hubs today. He went by the house at lunch, and yep, fleas are still fucking there.

So, just when it seemed we were free and clear, going to be living our own lives again, the worst flea infestation our bug guy has ever seen (!) has happened in the house we rented.

I mean, it is almost unbelievable. OH! And get this: my mom, the one who has been the challenge to my mental stability for the past three months, is sad we are moving out, and of course taking it out on us.

At this point, I'm about ready to just live with the fucking fleas.