My mother’s flight arrives this Saturday morning and ever since I learned of her itinerary, I have been filled with raging anxiety. It’s like those dreams I’ve had in which I have to go to work but I’m in Europe and I know I will be fired because I’m in some Swedish chalet and not at my desk in front of an excel sheet.
I’m not ready. My house is messy, mostly because of me and the laundry piles my husband has neatly folded into stacks and I have yet to put away.
I’m more nervous about her arrival than I am about giving birth. My pregnancy has been normal and I trust the delivery will be routine. With this baby, I can make a birth plan, pack my hospital bag, go over with my doctor what I can expect in the hospital.
But to anticipate what my mother needs? I would have more success trying to thread a moving needle.
I love my mother and appreciate deeply the help she is offering. She will be there to support us as our family expands. She will make dinner, watch Nathan and request we rent copies of any Mr. Bean movie.
Mike isn’t as worried due to the fact that my mother LOVES HIM. When she first met him, she said,”He’s so handsome! And out of all the American women, he chose you!” Yes, I’m very lucky according to her, even though I know I could snag any man I wanted. Only those men have to be at the local Elks Club, Veterans of Foreign Wars meetings or in the ICU. Still! They could be mine!
I could just do the bare minimum, clean only the surfaces, shove clothes into drawers, buy a large rug to hide the blood stains on the floor. That way, when she arrives on Saturday, I can say, “See mom? This is why I need you here almost TWO MONTHS before my due date. I’m so lost without you!”
She will run her finger along my dusty dresser, furrow her brow and then reply, “Well let’s go to Wal-Mart then, we’ll need a lot of supplies.”