No no no, mom will be here in just a few minutes. I haven't folded the laundry yet. The dishes need to be done. I haven't mopped. She's going to call out every little mistake. I just can't please her. I am so screwed, I am so screwed.
No, I'm an adult. This is my home. If it isn't cleaned that's my prerogative. She's just going to have to deal with the fact that I didn't clean things to her standard. I've spent the last three days cleaning. If it isn't good enough she just has to live with it. I'm just going to prop up my feet, on the coffee table and watch some TV until she gets here.
The doorbell rings and all that confidence just vanishes. The doorbell rings again, clearly I'm taking too long to answer. I open the door and greet her with a big hug, hoping she can't see the home. It's not even messy, just isn't perfect. She peeks around my shoulder and makes a judging sound.
"I didn't expect your home to be so clean baby doll," she says with a backhanded compliment as I lead her in. Fuck it, 38 and this is just my life. Still Baby Doll, still not good enough for dear old mom. I'll be glad when this weekend is over.
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