Pre-Visit Jitters

My mom is coming. She'll be here for a full week. Maybe more. I wasn't really listening to the details. The initial shock that she was coming at all put me in a stupor for the rest of the conversation. The point is, she's coming.

My dad, sister and I discussed this option while I was home last month. I reminded them that she would need to get out of the house a lot and that she needed to be kept busy for a while to help her move on after grandma's passing. "Maybe she could even come down early and help me pack before making the drive back up to Seattle," I said without considering the consequences. And they all too eagerly jumped on the bandwagon and pushed me on top of the mom grenade.

I will, of course, have to be entirely packed before she gets here because although my mother is a wonderful packer (I've never seen anybody cram so much into a trunk before... except for Lisa), she's also a pack rat. Way more than me. She can't handle throwing anything away. And I have lots to throw away. Most of these things are things she gave me. If I throw them away before she gets here, chances are she won't notice anything's missing. I really can't imagine her saying, "Hey! Where's that pink, purple and orange stuffed bug/alien/bear(?) thing I gave you three years ago?" However, if she sees it and then sees me throw it in the discard pile she's sure to demand to know why I hate her so much that I'd throw away such a thoughtful give that she picked out for me. And that's just too much pressure.

However, I do think that having my mom visit me will be a good thing. She's never really taken an interest in what I do or where I live and I'm kind of excited to introduce her to my friends and show her what I've been doing with my life. "I think we're going to be okay here. There's a thin candy shell. Hmmm... surprised you didn't know that."