Please, Please Pray for Me!

This weekend MIL moved in to recoup from her spinal surgery. I called my best friend to tell her of this and she suggested that I find a synagogue, church, Kingdom Hall, prayer group, burning bush or PTL partner to help me get through this. I agreed and have looked into seeing if Reverend Ike is still sending out those prayer hankies or if I could become a Hare Krishna without cutting my hair into that little ponytail. Maybe the Nation of Islam will lend me a bow tie and a bean pie for a few weeks.

Anyway, to make sure that she is comfy cozy my den has become her personal living space. She has a hospital bed, a massage chair and her own personal nurse, physical therapist, and a woman who just comes to sit with her during the day. The weird part is that these are not enough people for her. She must also elicit the help of me and Hubby on an almost minute to minute basis.

At first, she was to stay at the hospital in the rehab facility. She complained to Hubby that she felt she would not get the care she needed in the hospital (!!!!) and needed to be with family. Hubby agreed. The look I gave him should have put him in a rehab facility. So my precious weekend was spent shopping for a recliner for her to be comfortable in, completing her grocery list (which contained only things that were low fat, fat free or made with splenda...remember this, it is important later), and making sure that she had adequate entertainment.

I guess one of my biggest issues is that she can never just come out and say what she means. She is the queen of beating around the bush. Remember I said everything on the shopping list was low or fat free. Well, this Sunday, Hubby requested fried chicken for dinner. No Black person worth their salt has come up with a good low/free of fat fried chicken recipe. So to keep from hearing about her cholesterol (this along with her issues with her bowels since the surgery has been the main topic of conversation for the last 3 days) I baked her two boneless skinless chicken breast. We all sat at the table to eat.

MIL: Everything looks so lovely!

Me: Well, thank you?

MIL: Well, what is that you all have there?

Jassi: Chicken wings, Grandma!

At this point I looked DIRECTLY at Hubby. I knew what was coming and I think he did too.

MIL: You know, I like the chicken wings, too. That would be a nice taste in my mouth.

I foresee it being a looooong six weeks. I am sure I will feel years older and be quite a bit grayer by the time the six weeks is over. I have daydreamed about packing her up on exactly week 6 and driving her home lickety split. I am sure that she will need some additional time to 'get her strength back' before she will be able to make it home. Maybe she will leave before Christmas.

Last night she asked Hubby if he would get a bell so that she could call us when she needed us at night. I looked at Hubby and walked away. She can't really be serious. If she gets a bell, she will be the only MIL that is MIA.