Driving Lessons

Since most visits that involve my Mother are usually as painful as a trip to the dentist, I was bracing myself for one of these experiences as my parents volunteered to help me get settled into my new apartment this weekend. (Naturally my mother would time it so they skipped out on all the heavy lifting.) The day actually went quite well with minimal complaining from her, even when they gave her chicken instead of shrimp at Chili's. (SHOCKER!) And so, I went to bed Saturday night quite settled.

Cut to Sunday morning - What should have been a routine trip to IKEA turned disastrous. My mother, who hasn't driven since 1979 and who always plays backseat driver, is in the car with me (and my Dad) when I attempt to park in a spot in IKEA's underground garage that happens to be next to a concrete pillar and smack the right side of my car into said concrete pillar.

OH MY GOD! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT? THE CAR ISN'T EVEN PAID FOR! IS IT OK TO DRIVE IT!?

To add insult to injury, she tells me she quit smoking - as she holds a Marlboro Light in her hand and strikes a match. Great, my fender bender has caused my mother to relapse into the hands of Nicotine addiction.

This is how most of my interactions tend to go with her though, really. For every 5 great things she does/says, there is always one naggy, sarcastic, judgmental thing/sentence that will destroy the balance - bringing all the compliments crashed down like Jenga blocks.

Thankfully the rest of the day went according to plan: Her spending lots of money on things for my new apartment that I probably don't need but didn't complain about getting, followed by several hours of her standing around ordering my father to assemble, hammer, nail, screw, hang and arrange everything that she just purchased.

...............

I love my new apartment.