It's my mother's world...

... and I'm still living in it.

My mom is visiting us this week. She is a cleaner, organizer, subtle criticizer, helper, theoretically well-meaning work-horse. Yesterday, I was asked if my oven was self-cleaning, when the next load of laundry was going to be ready, and whether we needed to empty the Diaper Genie, all within two minutes. After taking a breath, she mentioned the garbage can needed cleaning and mumbled something about mold.

I recently cleaned my house, believe it or not. And everyone accounted-for has clean underwear and towels. And the Genie takes two seconds. And aren't garbage cans supposed to be dirty?

Today she was scrubbing the trays for the toaster oven (that incidentally, I scrubbed and put in the dishwasher probably the day before she arrived). She was also scrubbing the inside of the microwave. And the outside of the toaster oven... the glass door that has English muffin wrapper melted onto it. You can see the writing. It's not dirt, it's permanently melted-on plastic. I think a razor blade is required for extraction. I should go look to see if the scrubbing worked...

Today we are also switching from an over-priced cable to a lower-yet-probably-still-over-priced fiber optic provider. It is now 4:00 PM and he has been here since 9:00 AM, minus a lunch break.

He knocks, my mom says "Come in!" before I can even open my mouth. He goes in the basement to finagle things and my mom asks if he needs help moving things. He is standing in the foyer and my mom asks if he needs a glass of water or anything.

These series of exchanges made me realize: where my mother is, there lies her home. I guess on Saturday I resume ownership again.

Question: If I whimper "Mommy, I'm thirsty, so thirsty!" in the middle of the night, will she bring me a glass of water? (Or will I just annoy my husband?)

And yes, she did ask me why we need so many channels.