When Dad doesn't Listen

I had a bit of a mental breakdown this weekend.

It had been a hard week. I had to travel out of town for work during the week, during which time BK got suspended (something that probably needs its own post, but I just want to move on and forget about it. Short version: he made several poor choices). I came home on Thursday night, and we had to meet with the principal at 7 am on Friday morning in order for BK to be allowed back in school. The Agent threw out his back earlier in the week, so he was dealing with all this and playing single father while in excruciating pain. The Agent and I both had to volunteer at the school carnival on Friday night, something we had committed to months ago. We were both stretched pretty thin.

We had made plans with my parents weeks ago for them to come over on Saturday for the day, and The Agent was going to spend the day grilling for them. When we got home at 8 pm on Friday, I looked around  my disaster of a house, knowing that I still had to go in to the office for an hour on Saturday and then buy groceries for the BBQ, and I knew I just didn't have it in me to play hostess to my parents and brother, and neither did The Agent. I had to cancel.

I called my dad, and asked him to reschedule. I said that I had been on the road and The Agent was hurt, BK was in trouble and we had had too many commitments throughout the week. We were going to see them next weekend for Halloween, anyway. Can we just see them then?

Can you believe this? My dad said no. He said they were coming over anyway.

"Dad, you're not hearing me," I said. "I just can't do it. I need the rest."

"I hear you," my dad replied, "but you're not hearing me. We're coming over. We'll just stay for a minute, and then we'll leave."

I said OK, because I don't like to argue with my dad, but I was very unhappy. I started cleaning the house that hadn't been touched all week. I wasn't going to get to sleep until after midnight. The Agent, bless his heart, tried to help, but he was in so much pain that I told him to sit down, before he fell down.

Meanwhile, I stewed. Now they're just coming over for 5 minutes? So I have to spend the whole night cleaning for them to come over for 5 minutes? That's BS. They might as well stay the whole day. And then The Agent said that even with his bad back, he was going to try to grill whether my parents came over or not, so my mind was made up. I called my dad again.

"I want you to stay for the whole day," I said.

"I thought that you said you were tired, and that The Agent is hurt," my dad said.

"I AM tired. The Agent IS hurt. But if you're coming over, I'm cleaning the house. And I'm not going to spend the whole night cleaning the house just so you can come over for 5 minutes."

"But I don't want you to clean the house."

"But I'm going to."

"But I don't want you to."

I started crying. He just wasn't getting it. The Agent had to take the phone away from me and intervene.

"Hi Lucky, it's The Agent. Yeah, Lovely is being crazy again. Can you please forget that she ever called and just stick with the original plan of you guys all coming over for the day? Great. Yeah, I'll tell Lovely to take a Xanax before she calls you again."

(OK, maybe he didn't say any of that. But that was the same end result)

I ended up cleaning the house until 11 pm. I got up at 7 am on Saturday, went in to my office for a bit, and then did the grocery shopping and was home by 9. BK cleaned  the wood floors in the morning while Bug cleaned her bedroom and bathroom. I conveniently locked the doors to the master bedroom and the laundry room.

My parents came over and we had a nice visit, but I was forced to have an awkward conversation with my dad about why I was so stressed out about him coming over that I had to start crying. That upset Bug, and she asked Alice why Grandpa had made Mom cry (I didn't hear my stepmother's answer, but I'm sure there's going to be another awkward conversation in my future about that). The Agent, high on Vicodin so he could stand up long enough to grill ribs without crying from pain himself, apologized to my dad, saying that it was all his fault (a story no one believed).

Long story short, I survived the weekend.

But man, I need another weekend so I can recover from the weekend.