So, anyway, I'm being a brat. Yesterday went really well and I was all happy. This morning we got up and got ready for work. And I, oddly, wasn't a part of the instruction-giving process, because Daniel was giving his mom all the info in Chinese. I felt really strange about that. I'm the mom, after all. Work went fine, it was great to be back in the office, despite the fact that our computer network was still on vacation for the first 2 hours I was at the office. Whatever. And Daniel picked me up and brought me home... and my bad attitude returned.
I've mentioned this before- I like having visitors, but I get weird about my space and my stuff. Partly because I'm 1) a neat freak, 2) a germ/dirt phobe and 3) an introverted extrovert. So guests throw all of those things out of whack. So I was starting to feel off kilter already when I was informed that Ethan hated cold milk and he needs to have a bottle of warm milk with his meals instead. Blink. The child drinks cold milk from his sippy cup every day, multiple times per day. He just likes throwing his cup and refusing things when they're first offered as a power struggle. I know they were just concerned and trying to make sure he got his milk in. I KNOW that.
But I still have been in a snit since then. And the congee slurping (totally acceptable in their culture, I know!) is not helping.
Did I mention that I'm a brat? And far too old to be behaving like this?
Oh, and I have 6 pounds of leftover turkey and masses of mashed potatoes and stuffing that no one wants to eat. Because they don't really like it anymore than I like Chinese food, which I understand. But big sigh anyway.
I need a glass of wine.