Impending doom

OK, fine, that's a bit dramatic. But...

My mother is coming. Today. She is in the car even now, wending her way toward Illinois.

My second knee replacement surgery is Thursday so she is coming to take care of me for a couple of weeks. I love my mother. I am glad and grateful that she is able, and willing, to stay with me. As an unwilling single person, it will be very, very nice to share my space with someone who loves me, very nice to have someone to do things for me, a real luxury to be able to say "would you bring me whatever it is I want/need right now, please?" My parents live 9 hours away so I don't get to spend time with them very often. I will enjoy having my mother here.

However...

My mother is very uptight. The Ex liked to say that her ass is so tight that one of these days she's going to turn herself inside out. Lately she's gotten very pessimistic and negative about things, which I think is an age thing. I try to bite my tongue and just let her snarky remarks roll off my back but sometimes I. just. can't. And then I call her on it, we argue, she gets emotional and starts to cry and says she should never say anything at all. At which point I get disgusted, say I'll talk to her later, and say goodbye. Except for the next 2-3 weeks, I can't hang up!! I won't even be able to swiftly walk from the room to get some space.

The other issue is that my parents have never stopped parenting. I take responsibility for part of that because I share too much of my life with them. I try to stop myself but I guess that's just how I am. I process things by talking about them...with whomever happens to be available. But my dad is the ultimate fixer. If I mention a problem at work, he always has a "you should" or "you need to" even though he has absolutely no idea what he is talking about. When he starts warming up, Mom jumps right on the bandwagon. Well, having my mother here for a period of time, she is bound to hear phone calls between me and Himself or the Tall One, and even with the best of intentions, the narcotics are bound to loosen my tongue and I will end up talking about the state of my affairs. So to speak. (HEE - I crack me up!!) She "just [doesn't want me] to get hurt" and I appreciate that but I still don't want to hear what she thinks I should do.

I don't want to argue with my mother. I will do whatever I can to keep myself from responding to her negativity, even if it means that my head explodes right off my shoulders.

But if she rearranges my Tupperware cabinet again, the gloves are off.