Mentally preparing for Boston

I'm actually looking forward to spending time with my parents, whom I haven't seen since they were here in March, and my friends. I am also looking forward to a vacation from work, and also to a vacation from my cat, who is driving me up the f*ing wall. Every time I sit down, she sits on me, walks on me. Yesterday, I was hemming a pair of pants when she decided it would be a good time to cuddle… and then paw at the thread. I’ll tell her to get off, but she’ll come back a few minutes later. Even when I’m just working on my laptop, she limits my range of motion and gets hair in my keyboard. But I digress.

This will be the shortest holidays trip to Boston since I've lived in DC, because when it comes to quality time with my family, a little bit goes a long way. I can go in with the best of intentions, make a genuine effort to 'be the adult,' no matter the immaturity that my mother flies at me, but realistically, I know there will be acrimony. More than once over the last few years, visits to my parents, or their visits to me, have coincided with my return from a wonderful vacation, such that I'd be relaxed and in the best possible position for conflict prevention. But difficult people are difficult people, and there's only so much you can do when other people want to pick a fight.

I can ignore my mother when she tells me I have Hagrid hair or a gargantuan gut--although I'll make sure to write about it, because I know you love that $hit. It is, after all, my proverbial bread and butter.

I can write her complaint letters if she gives me the right details, but I can't ensure they meet her standards. I can leave no bunch of parsley out on the counter for a second, even if I'm about to use it, but that won't keep her from finding something else--perhaps something that she placed there--to yell about.

I can stay silent and roll my eyes when she waxes aggressively political, anti-evolutionary, what have you, ad hominem attacks and all, and then wonders why I'm not interested in substantive conversations with her, but that won't stop her from ranting and spewing nonetheless.

I'll gladly sample from the variety of non-meat foods on the table, but she'll still fixate on something I didn't have enough of and take the opportunity to lecture me on not being obsessive about nutrition.

I won't tell her I was hit by an SUV, and as I won't be running around in my underwear she won't have an opportunity to notice the fading but still-present headlight-shaped bruise on my butt.

I imagine I won't feel the need to respond when she finds reasons to call me selfish, lazy, harsh, obnoxious, ill-mannered, swine-like, shrewish, aggressive, financially irresponsible, etc., but she'll still probably accuse me of getting defensive.

Have I left anything out? We can play Mom Madness in December--if there are other contingencies you believe I should mentally prepare for, please send them my way.