Ringing in the New Year

Happy New Year!

Kisses. Love. And all that jazz.


Cartoon: Toothpaste for dinner

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For New Years, though I had misgivings, Mr C had the brilliant idea of inviting his 82-year old Grandma over to our place to babysit the kids while he and I went out with friends sans enfants. Hélas, Mr C was bringing her home to our place when I got the call from our friends saying that they were staying in because of the flu.

Sissies.

So we ended up staying in, having a leisurely dinner and conversation prone to drive the sane people (ie, Mr C and myself) mad (elderly, paranoid people say the strangest things). It would have been a pretty good evening if I hadn't been feeling feverish and "off". Or grumpy. And was not prone to sarcasm. But there you go.

When I couldn't stand it anymore (11:30 pm), I went to bed. It was actually a pretty good way to ring in the new year. By sleeping. Ahem.

The next morning, I was assaulted by questions pertaining to my love (if any) of the Viennese Philharmonic Orchestra as soon as I came downstairs.

Um.... Coffee?

But she had been up since 5:30 AM and couldn't understand why I was so slow on the uptake! While watching the orchestra on the telly (OMG - yes, I watched it with her), she nattered on about how it reminded her of the good old days during the German Occupation. Did those guys ever know how to party!

Sitting to her left, I think my right ear collapsed. It's hard to tell. I'm still not sure if I heard her right.

As we were preparing lunch, she and Mr C had an argument. It was silly as these things sometimes are. She refused to listen to him (getting out of the kitchen while he opened oysters (he didn't want to hurt anyone)) and he blew his top. When we were finally seated for lunch, Mr C poured her some champagne and then all hell broke loose when she took the glass and set it down as far away from her as possible, saying that she didn't want it (in France, this is a supreme insult). Mr C got up from the table and went upstairs. Fantastic. For all his faults though, I knew that Mr C was the lesser sulker. His Grandma invented the sulk.

Well, I was having none if it. I wasn't going to let these two eejits ruin the first day of my new year!

I told her that I would call her a cab if the two of them were going to be like that. I'm pretty sure she threatened me at this point for daring to put her out into the street... (hang on.... how long did Mr C tell you you were staying?...). I told her that she was acting childish. If I had poured the champagne, would she have taken it? I was surprised when she said Yes. Wôt?... Argh. In that case, if you refuse the cab, well then I'm not going to sit around watching the two of you sulk: it's between you two and the two of you aren't going to have an audience! The kids and I are outta here!

This is where Mr C intervened, told me to calm down and went to make up with his Grandma.

I have never given his Grandma my tough side before. For all she knew, I was the mildly retarded wife of her Grandson because I usually agreed with her to keep her satisfied in her wonky, paranoid world.

Surprisingly enough, she was a lot more fun and enjoyable after the altercation. She loosened up. She became less paranoid and winked at me when she insinuated silly things to Mr C. We sorta became friends. It was weird. She told me all sorts of things about her life. It was nice.

And to my surprise, it was no great hardship (as someone who is not very paranoid) to have her around for 5 days. The only thing that was a bit of strain was keeping up with her hours. By 8 PM she was nodding off on the couch and since the hide-a-bed is in the living room, it meant that Mr C and I had to put the kids to bed, put Grandma to bed and then we went out for either a drink or a movie.

We should really invite her over for more weekends.

It would mean Mr C and I getting out more. Ahem.

As soon as we dropped her off at her place again on Sunday though, she turned back into the kook we know by heart. Nobody was allowed to touch anything and her stories veered into the bizarre. I had a hard time convincing her that a video cassette could not be read in two languages and that a DVD could (she thought it was the opposite). As well, she kept insisting that the video cassette was for the DVD player and I could see that she was getting vexed out when I gently insisted that it wasn't possible.

After leaving, Mr C and I discussed the senile miasma that seemed to settle on her when she arrived in her own home.

We both agreed that it was sad.

This year, we'll try and bring her over to our chaotic home, where kids fight and giggle, a bit more often.