Grandpa's Are Human And Humans Don't Shit Ice Cream

Imagine the awkwardness when I had to call my Mother-in-Sin-Law when I got myself stranded at the new house the week before we moved in.

My mom, whose head is made of butt, had given me a hard time about driving 'all the way' out to East Greenwich to get me. 14 miles, Mom. 14 miles.

My boyfriend, once again, was going to be working late.

One sister was unreachable, one sister was doing her 4-1 shift at the hospital.

The many friends, who once jumped when I told them to, are no longer as available now that I'm a member of the world of the grown-up.

I was seeing those weird flashing lights in the corners of my eyes that I only see right before I get one of those horrid, pounding headaches. The Cute was bored. We needed to leave. And my car is still waiting on getting a belt tightened, even though 3 separate trucks and 1 Jeep have been taken apart and put back together, piece by piece, while I've waited patiently*.

*Kicking and screaming.

Her, the dreaded she's-not-my-mother-in-law's, work was less than 3 minutes away and I knew that it was about 5 minutes from her going home time.

I called her.

She got me.

I was grateful.

It wasn't even that awkward.

***

We don't have many topics that we can discuss safely. The Cute (you DON'T know better than her Mama, I don't care how much older you are), The Bottomless Pit (is a slob thanks to you and no, I'm NOT going to act as if I'm his mother now, he can heat up his own freaking leftovers), New Baby (bring up names again and I'll have to punch you), anything about me (hey, that was a dig, wasn't it?) etc.

So I brought up something neutral enough.

Shopping.

Not even fun shopping, like Sephora/Anthropologie/shoe section at Target...but a safe kind of shopping. Home stuff. Functional stuff.

I told her about my plans for the playroom and how I was going to buy a bookshelf.

And...

It wasn't neutral enough.

***

The Pit's grandfather is a lovely man but I have had my fill of him for the time being.

He stepped in and volunteered to do the finish work on all of our new windows.

We're paying for supplies.

Supplies that he isn't even buying because he's recycling an oak bed set to use as trim pieces.

Do I like oak?

No. I don't. I like darker toned wood.

Do we care about saving on money when it comes to projects like trim?

No. We don't.

I won't even mention that he ran out of oak and instead of buying some more he is using different wood in the bathroom. Leftovers from doing someone's floor. So now my house doesn't even match.

Excuse me. I'm going to go cry now. I mean...we're more than willing to pay for supplies!!!

***

I have builders in my family and I have family members whom I love.

They make stuff. They give me stuff.

Sometimes.

It doesn't get out of hand.

I turn down things based upon space, personal style, need.

I don't have to just take everything that is offered to me that is free, right? And if that is the treatment that my family is getting....well...

***

Grandfather Pit is over here, like, every day.

We're moved in now. (See? My Internet is back!)

My house is beautiful.

Except for when he tears it apart.

He takes off my outlet covers to plug in his tools. His tools get unplugged and moved and he doesn't put the outlet covers back.

He gets sawdust everywhere and doesn't bother to sweep it.

He moved my 200 lb tv into the middle of the living room. And he left it there.

He left a compressor and a nail gun in the playroom.

He leaves screwdrivers and pencils everywhere.

I bought myself a fluffy, expensive bathmat. I didn't want it to get ruined before I even had a chance to use it, so I rolled it up and placed it in a corner of a room that isn't being used. Wouldn't you know it not only got knocked down, but it got STEPPED ON. A sneaker print. A muddy one. Right in the middle of it. He didn't even tell me. A freaking room that wasn't even being used.

(I know it was him because The Bottomless Pit's feet are way bigger.)

If you get him a coffee he complains about it. Too sweet. Not sweet enough. He never brings his own yet he always 'needs' one.

He took my kitchen cabinet doors off. All of them. To be 'helpful'. Because I said that we were going to replace the hardware one day. ONE DAY.

He takes the curtains down every time he measures a window, which he does whether he is actively working on that particular window or not...so pretty much every day. He doesn't ever put them back.

I'm not allowed to say anything.

Not even if it's in a soft voice, proceeded by 'please'.

Because it's Grandpa Pit.

Kill me now.

***

The Bottomless Pit's Grandpa doesn't eat donuts. He doesn't like candy or cake or dessert or sweets. He's pretty loud about it.

I asked The Bottomless Pit to take me to Dunkin Donuts last Sunday.

Grandpa was at our house.

I asked for a Boston Cream.

(I know they spell it with K but that's just stupid.)

The Pit comes out with a dozen donuts and before I could delightedly help myself he stopped me and said...

'Wait til we get to the house. Grandpa may want that one.'

'That one? That ONE? The one that your pregnant girlfriend ASKED you to get for her?'.

'Yeah. See what Grandpa wants, first.'

The fucker got one Boston Cream and he wanted me to wait to see if his sweet-hating Grandpa wanted it before I ate it.

Grandpa turned it down. All ended well. But that...that was not ok.

***

I was up on a chair taking dishes down from the kitchen cabinets in our apartment.

Grandpa was, evidently, at the house. Working on the trim.

I had begged The Pit to please watch The Cute so I could get at least SOMETHING done. Yet every time she ran into the kitchen to grab at stuff I had to remind The Pit that he was supposed to be watching her.

I'm pregnant. I'm tired. I can't watch the baby WHILE I pack and I shouldn't have to when you're just sitting there, boy.

He then started telling me how guilty he was feeling. He wasn't helping his Grandpa.

He wasn't. Helping. His GRANDPA.

I'll not mention that when I asked him to hang curtains in the kitchen the other day before the rods that were leaning in the hallway got ruined we got into a fight and it ended in him telling me to 'Shut up' and me finding that the rods, indeed, had gotten bent. SOMEONE knocked them over and stepped on them. I need help, I get 'shut up'. 

But GRANDPA....

***

Ugh.

Grandpa was telling us where we 'couldn't' put stuff on moving day because it would be 'in his way'. Like, The Cute's crib needed to be in the living room.

Right.

***

Anyone remember how bad I was spazzing over The Cute's first birthday party?

Scrubbing the house, cooking like crazy? 30 people crammed in my little apartment?

While Grandpa complained about it being too hot in there The Bottomless Pit started tearing the place apart, looking for these toys that Grandpa had made for him like 2 months ago. He wanted to show them that he still had them.

*Sigh*

And he did still have them. They were put away. Like everything else that we own that doesn't have a place to be on display.

We got into a brawl over it. In front of everyone.

'You don't LIKE them????'

'We're having a BIRTHDAY party. Things are put AWAY. I CLEANED. And things get BROKEN when they are left out, look at all of your stuff! They are in the hope chest in the closet!!'

He started digging through the piles of clothes to get to the chest and I almost ripped his face off.

Happy Birthday!

***

I'm sick of Grandpa. I'm sick of his stuff.

***

And I can't even mention a bookshelf to a living-in-sin-law without her trying to force something that I don't want onto me.

She told me that she had a bookcase (2 shelves, made of another light wood that I don't like) in the basement.

Grandpa had made it.

And that, to her, was that.

Before, during and after me saying 'No, thank you'.

***

I just want my furniture to match.

I just want 5 shelves so more stuff will fit and the room has things at different eye levels for visual interest. I just want to coat it in paint, distress it, and screw it into the wall so that it won't tip over.

Is that wrong? Is that soooooo wrong?

***

'My mom wants me to bring that bookcase over'.

'I told her no thank you'.

'But....Grandpa made it'.

'It's not what I'm looking for'.

*Silence. Angry stare.*

'Really? I can't politely turn down something that doesn't meet my needs and buy what I want because GRANDPA made it?! My house is not a shrine to Grandpa. Donuts do not only belong to Grandpa. Your Grandpa is not more entitled to your time and your help than I am. And I'm SICK of being manipulated about what we do in our spare time and on holidays based upon where Grandpa is going!!! Grandpa is just a guy, who is healthy and alive, who ruins $30 bathmats! If  I took everything that everyone in our families offered us we would need to be on Hoarders! Shutup Shutup just SHUTUP about GRANDPA!'

***

The bookcase remains in The Pit family basement.

Grandpa is still working on our windows and bitching and tearing my house apart.

But I picked up on a little something in my furious rant...

I was jealous...

of Grandpa.

Grandpa got first pick at donuts, got thought of when he was doing something that may require help, didn't get told to shut up if he asked for something, was put first in furniture shopping/holiday plan decisions.

Meanwhile, Mizz D-list over here, hopes for a rejected donut every once in a while and painted the interior of an entire house without so much as an OFFER of help from her man.*

*Sound dramatic? I'm 17 weeks. 'Nuff said.

***

I got sent home from my recent Dr's appointment with a note saying that I am over-doing it.*

I've lost weight. I look exhausted. I need to take it easy.

*I pay him well. Just kidding. I mean, I do, but that's irrelevant. Mmmhmm. Anyway.

The Bottomless Pit took the bathmat to the cleaners, hung my Shut Up curtains, stopped being nasty when I asked him to do things.

And my daily fury with Grandpa has subsided a bit.

He's a pain in the ass, but it wasn't all him.

***

Behind every bitchy pregnant girl, there is a dumbass who made her that way.

***

Ammo: The Pit's parents did not spend Thanksgiving with good old 'But what if this is your last chance to spend ________ with him' Grandpa. I'll just stuff that one in my back pocket until I need it.... :D

***

Got to share: I love my house. Love love love my house. *Ballerina twirl* ♥