Today I went to the store and got flooring for the bathroom (our bathrooms exploded) and of course, I had the kids show my mother.  And she could have cared less.  See, before, she was on my ass to have someone else fix them.  She is like this with everything. When my son wanted to change the oil in the car, she had a fit about us taking it to a mechanic instead. She bitches about the patio I am making for her, about the railings I made for her, everything. So this is no different. She has some kind of issue with allowing people to try things. It's because she has no patience. 

She's also constantly complaining that the other bathroom is too far away for her to make it there in time. But that's not true because it's not that far away at all (like mere feet). She's treated me this way her whole life, always acting like people can't do things themselves. Even though my dad did everything and never hired a plumber or a mechanic.  I guess she trusted him to get the job done?  I don't know.

So I don't know why I thought it was wise to show her the bathroom tiles. Why did I think she would like them? Why do I care? I don't. I thought it was being nice. Or maybe I just wanted her to say she liked them.  Or just show me that maybe she thought I was doing something right for once. It's hard when you do everything and someone is always there to tell you that you're doing it wrong. If I make her dinner, usually she tells me that there's something different I could have made or it could add something to it to make it better. It's constant and everyday. She does go some days where she doesn't say these things, but those days are rare.

And the really annoying part is the last time I did this, where I showed her something and she shot it down, I told my therapist about it he asked me why I did it, because I knew better. Instead of saying she was being stupid, he blamed me. So this time it makes me feel even more stupid. Because I don't care if she likes the flooring.  I don't care if she likes anything.  I care if I like it.  I care if my family likes it. But that's it.  She is not my family.  She is just an old woman who lives in this house that I am in charge of.

So I have to remember that she can't give me more than what she has. And all she has is impatience, judgment, and complaining. So I need to stop showing her things or stop caring about her responses when I do.  Deep down I do care, which sucks, which is why I need to stop showing her things.  But I will get over it very quickly after I start the bathroom floor, because then I'll start seeing the fruits of my labor and it won't bother me who likes it or not.  All I will be thinking about is what I made.  And that's all that matters really.  All that matters is the job I do and not her opinion of it.  Because I can't expect her to give me anything more than her miserable self.