Sunday Brunch

The honeymoon is officially over, but the marriage will last for sure. Yesterday was our “Sunday brunch” day that my dear daughter started a few months ago. Unfortunately, it was rather unpleasant and we never had brunch—not even breakfast or lunch. We did have a snack…does that count?

 After allowing her to sleep nearly 15 hours (in a row), she woke up in a foul mood. No matter how much I tried to not let it happen, her attitude ruined my day and broke my spirit. I didn’t argue with her, lecture her, or show that I was riled (kudos for me), I just felt it deeply.

Her grandmother (my mother) came over for lunch, and my daughter  was a bitch to her, too. She was surly and unfriendly, and brushed past her without a greeting. My mother is tough, but extremely sensitive, so I could see how hurt she was. I told my mom that her granddaughter was just in a bad mood and to ignore it, but that was tough for both of us because she’s a bit “in your face” with her hostility.

We’ve learned, though, that to pay too much attention to her during these episodes is asking for an argument and more ugly belligerence. She’s even told everyone to let her be, let her figure it out. She’s like a man who has to go into his cave. Eventually, she comes around and talks to one of us about what’s on her mind, then behaves as if nothing ever happened.

Unfortunately, my mother made things worse by bringing her little dog, whom my daughter isn’t exactly in love with in the first place. We don’t like having him over because we have three cats who are totally indoor animals, and don’t know how to socialize with dogs.

The nanosecond the dog walked in, he went for one of the cats, who proceeded to climb up the curtains (putting holes into them with his claws), launch onto the vertical blinds, and pull down five or six of the slats. The cat then became even more freaked out by the sound of the blinds falling and ran out to our balcony and leapt over the railing to the one next door. He had never done that before, and didn’t know how to come back. He was terrified and my daughter was furious and stomped around yelling and crying and generally bitching.

It was resolved a bit later when the neighbor came home and we could just get him from their balcony, but the damage was done and the mood around there was nasty.

After a few rounds of cards, my mother left me alone with my little monster. After a little while, I guess my daughter got a text message that calmed her down a little and made her behave a little more decently. She invited me to play a game of cards, then best two out of three, then a game of Scrabble. She even let me win. She was normal-ish after that, and took her shower, got prettied up, and ran some errands.

 By the time she came home, she was the sweet version of my daughter whom I remember from a while back.  She went to bed early so she could make a great impression for the first day of her new job at her company. She took care of everything herself, and was so organized that she even had time to snuggle with me before she left for work.

Is this normal or am I living with The Three Faces of Eve??