I am supposed to be adding words to my novel (16,880 right now) but instead I am a bit distracted by the miserable whining sounds that Carla is making upstairs. We are at my mom’s house, and Nonna has decided that Carla’s hair needs a wash.

As a matter of fact, her hair is indeed quite greasy. It has been, ahem, a while since her last shampoo. She does not like getting her hair washed, but Nonna would never let a little thing like someone else’s feelings get in the way of what she thinks should be done.

We arrived here last night, a little before midnight, the girls and I. It was an easy drive, just about 2 hours and 15 minutes, and I was hoping we’d have a really relaxed visit. So far, it is mostly okay, but I am really looking forward to tomorrow when Drob and Cammy arrive. It’s like I’m all alone out here and I need reinforcements. I need to look over at a sympathetic face, and roll my eyes. I need the protection that having my peeps around me will give.

My mom tends to be more snide, more bossy, more annoying when there’s no one around to buffer her. Why do daughters and mothers clash so? I know this isn’t just Her and Me – it’s many mothers and daughters. And as the mother of two daughters myself, I have to say I know that there will be some clashes, have already been some clashes, especially with my little 8 year old pre-teen.

Carla just came downstairs, and announced “Nonna made me take a shower!”

Me: You smell good.

Carla: That’s because Nonna made me put this body wash stuff all over my body! It made me itch all over my back!

Me: You washed your hair?

Carla: I didn’t want to! But yeah. Anyway, I’m going back to my weaving.

That’s another thing that’s annoying as hell. My mom always gives the kids a ton of little fun things — coloring books, hair accessories (2500 hair thingys ! in a bag!), and small toys. Nice, right? Sure, that’s really nice, that’s not a problem. Clutter worries aside, I think it’s perfectly fine. But then the kids trash her living room with all the little things that she gave them, and I have to spend a bunch of time helping them with their new wooden looms, and teaching them basic weaving, and Nonna goes and gets all surprised and annoyed that her house has crap all over it. Yeah! The nerve! These kids, messing up her house with all this stuff!

Carla has short hair these days, and doesn’t use hair accessories. So she decided it would be fun to string the little rubber circles together to make a chain. A long, long, long chain. I could have told her no, sure, but by the time I even noticed (I’m trying to write a novel, you know) she had already had a long chain going. I decided that was okay. It wasn’t technically wasting anything, after all, we can just unhook the loops from one another when we need to. So what?

So, Nonna wasn’t much pleased with that, either. Tough nuggies, really. Feh.

I haven’t been liking the way that she’s been talking to me, or to the kids. It’s not AWFUL or anything, it’s just not that nice. It’s a tone of voice that is ordering, or commanding, rather than asking or inviting. Instead of, “dinner’s ready! C’mon everyone!” — it’s “Pannn, come over here for dinner.” It doesn’t really read clearly when I write it down, it’s the inflection. It is the way my name is spoken. It is the same way my name was spoken throughout my childhood.

You. Do. This. Do. That.

There’s nothing humanistic about my mother. She’s all surface, shallow to the core. It’s like she has zero empathy or something. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just a little sensitive. But that’s how it’s feeling to me.

There’s also the irritability I get from just being in her kitchen. I made pumpkin bread this morning, oh yum! But it took a long time to make it, because as crazy and disorganized as my kitchen is, at least I know where everything is. And I bake. My mother, does not. So she’s got the flour over here, and the baking soda way under there in this other cabinet, and the spices are all in another place, and the mixer is off in this other corner, and I could not find a whisk to save my life. It was frustrating.

On the other hand, the pumpkin bread came out really, really, well. I will be doing more cooking once I get the kids to go to sleep, which is what I must do now.