sitting in a drafty house

it's cold today. everything was frozen when i got up, and i think my zucchini plant is pretty fucked. every once in a while i sit down to "blog" with grandiose expectations, and then i completely forget what inspired me in the first place. i suppose i could write about my psychotic mother. well, psychotic probably doesn't work, but there's something just-not-quite-right about her.

so here goes: an attempt to let this shit go!
yesterday we were getting together to go to my sister's house. it's about an hour drive, and my mom gets home around 2 in the afternoon, so i tried to get there "on time". now, keep in mind this was a leisurely trip to have fun with my sister and her kids. i left my house about 10 minutes to 2, expecting to hit every red light on my way, because i was in a hurry, and we all know what that's like. i wanted to be heading to my car at 1:30, but Oli was napping, and i hate having to wake her on purpose. so i did, and she was channeling all of the hate of the world through her fat little cheeks, and protested every step of the way. (did you know, toddlers have the capability of going completely limp, and they do this thing with their arms to make them all slippery? i liken it to when a snake un-hinges it's jaws, but kinda the opposite.) so i was a little late.
when i pulled up to my mother's house, she walked angrily to my car to scowl at me. (oh, back up a second. when i was 2 blocks away from her house my cell phone rang, and i didn't answer it because, well, i just don't want to ever give any law enforcement the excuse to pull me over.) so we arrive at her house, and she also channels all of the hate of the world at me through her eyes, the scowliest scowl to have ever scowled. "Hi," i say. "You're late," she replies. Ok, here we go! "I'm sorry, there was an accident on my way here," i reply (no lie, a major street to get to her house was totally backed up, some ninny had a flaming engine in the middle lane and no one knew what to do!). her anger doesn't subside. "You know, I am sorry, it's hard to deal with a screaming toddler the whole time I'm attempting to get her ready, I didn't mean to be late," still hatred, "Would you like me to go through every reason I'm late? because I can, I got Olivia up at 1:38, she screamed at me when I brought her downstairs, I changed her diaper, and she protested when I tried to put on her shirt, then I fought her to get her strapped in the car, and she finally settled down. I hit every red light on my way here, and there was a huge accident on Air Base [parkway, the major street]." I explained in a heated fashion, I was quite annoyed at this point. "It's almost 2:15. You said you'd be here at 2." WHAT THE FUCK! I mean, didn't I just explain?
I was really REALLY close to calling her a bitch. I mean, really! "Look, it's not like i wanted to have a psycho toddler. I really am sorry." Why the big deal? When I was on my way home later last night I checked my phone, she called me at 2:07. 7 whole fucking minutes late. where's the proportion in which this was blown?! I mean fucking get a life! seven minutes doesn't make that big of a difference.

i wish this wasn't such of a rant, but it is, so whatever. perhaps next time i write a blog it will be all inspirey or something.