Sunday afternoon is always a low energy time for me. Sunday morning takes a lot out of me. We had a dinner after worship today. It was a good time to visit with people. I'm still tired from yesterday, so I had even less energy than usual. Plus, on the way home we stopped to pick up Daughter's prescriptions. Her medicaid is all messed up. Suddenly it won't cover prescriptions she's been on for years. They won't cover her diabetes test strips. Usually her prescriptions are less than $20 a month. Today they were $100. So I got home and the laundry was piled high. It's hard to keep up with laundry when Daughter's linens need to be washed daily and we aren't home most evenings.
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I asked her to bring me the dark hamper and bring in some firewood. It is very cold here today, and I wanted a fire as I sat and relaxed. She told me she would. Except she didn't. She complained when I reminded her. So I did it. So went the afternoon. She wanted to watch something on TV with me. Then she laid down on the couch, taking all the space and covering herself with the throw she supposedly gave me for Christmas, except it's never available for me to use because she's using it. I asked her to make space. She got mad, threw a pillow at me, called me a name, and stormed off.
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I continued to work on the laundry (the 4th load is in the washing machine now-- and there's still more to do). She pouted. Finally she came out and gave me a letter. It says:
"Dear Mom,
I am sorry for being a jackass to you. I did not mean to ignore you or not listen to. I will try to do my best to do better with teamwork and not to make you tired.
Let me take care of the rest of the laundry. Sorry Mom. I love you very much. I will prove it to you if I have to.
Love-4-ever and always."
She told me she wanted to cook supper for me so I could relax. I had misgivings, but decided to allow her to make amends. The dryer began to buzz. Daughter ignored it. Supper was okay (tuna, macaroni, mozzarella cheese, and salad topping). The dryer stopped buzzing. I went in to check it out. Then I asked Daughter if she was going to take care of it. No answer. She was in her bedroom. She'd snuck some ice cream out of the freezer and was eating it. She wasn't happy about being found.
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Oh, and that letter? It was just words, it didn't mean anything. At least, that's what she said. Then she wonders why I don't believe her when she tells me something. So, I'm taking care of the laundry. I'm cleaning up her supper mess. I'm going to have to take the recycling out if I want it to go out. I get to fill her pill boxes. I've been cussed out and called all kinds of names. Oh, and I'm even more tired than I was when she promised to take care of me for the rest of the day. She's in her bedroom considering how terrible it is to be my daughter. She starts with a therapist who is supposedly good with borderline personality disorder on Tuesday. I hope it helps.
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