OK, so here is another thing. If you are sick of hearing about my mother/mothering issues, read another blog. I am working through some things.

My mother-in-law, who is about a 7.5 on a scale of 1 to 10 wanted to take XX5 today. We didn't know when MIL brought it up that the kids would be home from school today because of the fires. I agreed, assuming XX5 would be thrilled to spend the day with her grandparents. Even when I found out the kids would be home, I still figured she would be happy. The X's and Y's and I would just be cleaning, and I get a little testy when I clean, so I figured she would be happy to be out of the line of fire. In the words of the Grinch as portrayed by Jim Carrey,

"WRONGO!"

She was at first calmly resistant.

"Aren't they coming over to spend the night tomorrow?"

"Yes, Baby, they are."

"Good, I'll just save up all my happiness for seeing them then."

She didn't even look up from her book. I explained that we would not be having any fun at all. I was sure this was true, because, like I said, cleaning.

"I don't care. I want to stay here."

As I kept trying to talk her into it, she began to realize it was less than optional. Then, she began to get upset. Really upset. She started crying like she was going off with strangers. My MIL's phone wasn't working, so I couldn't even call her. She was on her way to pick XX5 up. In desperation, I turned to Xy17, who is XX5's super-hero.

"You have to talk to her," I told him, sure he could make her excited to go. He did. She would do anything for him. I should have known it would be a short lived victory when, while looking through some old pictures she came across a picture of a dog that we owned before XX5 was born, she started crying and saying she missed him. Actually, I did know, but I was hopeful. She was wiping her tears when the Grandparents walked in. She seemed cheerful, and was fine when I put the car seat in their car and strapped her in. I walked inside and started barking orders at the other X's and Y's. Thirty seconds later, MIL came in and asked,
"Can you please unstrap XX5, she doesn't want to go.
Apparently, as soon as I left her sight, she began crying. My MIL does not take rejection well, so I was expecting Hell to pay.
I was pretty irritated, but I didn't want to make XX5 feel bad. As promised, we did nothing but clean and yell at each other. As the day dragged on, I looked at XX5 and thought,
"I bet she's sorry she stayed home," but as soon as I thought it, I knew it wasn't true. She would rather be here with me on a boring day, than with anyone else on any other kind of day. This is just one of the many things I don't understand. I know it is normal, but it is not normal to me. I would have happily marched off to a play date with Joan Crawford and Michael Meyers, machete in his hand, to get out of the house I was raised in. I remember, one time, Evil step-mother commenting how I always wanted to spend the night away. Well of course I did! Between the Always Drunk Father Figure, and the Always Screaming and Cussing Mother-Figure, I would rather have been anywhere else.
And so, when my baby wants to be with me, I think I have done something wonderful, to raise a daughter that wants to be with me, but deep down, I know that is not true. Deep down, I know that my extraordinary is everyone else's ordinary.