It really was a funny session today. I am usually the easiest patient in the world. I enjoy talking and I'm learning how to put into words what is running through my mind. I am not dull and often have a funny story of the week to share with my therapist.

 Today she came to the house. With the holidays it's just easier for her to come here. She's been here before and she loves my English Bulldog. Today she walked in and there were 2 English Bulldogs. She's excited. She wants to know where I got the new one. I said "Oh, that's my Mom's dog. They both moved in with us yesterday after a fight at her house." Lovely. Don't get me wrong, my Mom is always welcome to live with me, my husband, 2 small children and dog. God love 'em all. But, it's an ugly situation.

 When my father passed away unexpectedly 2 years ago, she didn't know what to do. She couldn't afford her home on her income only (always plan for this folks!) and my younger brother and his girlfriend moved in. They split the cost of everything. Mom lives 5 houses up the street from me. So. The girlfriend gets pregnant 8.5 months ago. She no longer cooks, cleans, or really participates in overall life. She lays around like she has a terminal brain tumor. ::rolls eyes:: This does not sit well with Clean Freak Mom (who was NEVER a clean freak when I was a kid). You just know that harmony flew out the door. I get a phone call "come get me NOW. He and I are fighting and he won't let me take my car." Great. Lady, I'm in therapy because I am afraid to drive. But, I'll take one for the team. I get over there and they are both in the driveway SKU-REE-CHING (I'm in New England so that's what it sounds like when I say screeching) obscenities at one another. Like the kind of things you say to someone on death row that can't retaliate.  I find out several things during this argument as I stand there slack jawed and staring.  My brother is yelling at Mom "You're so crazy that you make HER look sane." I calmly stare at him and he kind of snickers and says "You've always known I thought you were crazy." Kids. I tell you. One time as a 10 year old you beat him to a pulp and you're forever branded insane. Oh, and apparently both my Mom and my future sister in law (who I actually like and am nice towards) are prostitutes. At least to hear THEM tell it. Of course, they didn't quite use the politically correct terms. So, everyone is now shacked up in my house..lol.

My therapist couldn't stop laughing. She seems to be Little Susie Suburbs who would call the police if someone hung a flyer on her mailbox with permission from the US Post Office. But, I had progress this week. I vocalized how insane I thought they all were, I drove by myself, and I even let Chris leave the house without me. Oh Joy.

Only 32 shopping days until Christmas. The holidays should be a bundle of joy this year. If I didn't need therapy before, I sure as hell am going to need it after the impending mess.