Mom's now okay with having given birth to me

It was a rough morning. Mom got angry that I didn't hop-to the minute she called for me to go see the roses and hear the birds. Mom has always loved demanding that everyone drop everything and run to her the minute she has something to say or show, and because I previously made a point of fighting this bad habit--my gut instinct is to fight--lowering my resistance to it because she's sick is one of those adjustments I've struggled to make. So I said 'just a minute' and mom started slamming doors and telling me not to bother ever talking to her again. She mostly calmed down by breakfast, and then, after much dilly-dallying, we got her ready to leave the house for some errands. Dad had a doctor's appointment early in the afternoon and I was getting together with a friend around the same time, so we had to get going--but we leveraged the time restriction to our advantage because mom could be convinced not to linger in each store.

The problem with stores is, mom loses it every time she sees a small child and starts telling me I'm useless because I don't have a small child. This happened at Trader Joe's, and it happened again at OSJL. I usually go out of my way to keep mom out of OSJL because it's a great place to stock up on random things one does not need, and my parents' house is cluttered with random things one does not need. And mom, in her state, has gotten into the habit of taking things down from walls, off of shelves, and out of closets. So the floors and furniture are covered in stuff.

But I'm really sick(ened) by all the dust in my parents' house. When I vacuumed my own house before I left, I thought, my parents really need a good vacuum cleaner like mine. I'd offered it to them before but dad thought it was too heavy for mom, and she'd inevitably try to use it. But things were so bad that I insisted, and I'd seen my vacuum at OSJL and insisted we get one.

So she sees a toddler at OSJL and keeps going on about how cute and smart it is, and about how she wants one. I ignore her. She says, "why I gave birth to you is beyond me," Dad and I leave her to walk the aisles, and go look for a vacuum. Dad balks at first because it's refurbished, so who knows if it'll work, but I point out that we can return it if it doesn't. He's skeptical, but yields. We get it and head back, and mom bitches the whole time and continues to quote the toddler and tell me to go forth and multiply.

I can't wait to set up the vacuum, so we do it first thing. Dad freaks out every time he sees a piece missing. It's actually a newer model than mine (retractable cord and floor settings!) but we set it up and I start vacuuming. I fill an entire canister just in the living room. To put that in perspective, I'm not sure I've filled the equivalent of a canister in my own house--and I have a cat--since I've had my vacuum cleaner. I fill another canister on the stairs, and another upstairs. And I could barely get anywhere upstairs, because there's crap all over the floor in every room. Both parents are in awe.

Mom stops regretting having given birth to me and starts telling me I should visit more often. She said she didn't even know that there were vacuum cleaners that worked so well (she has a dozen broken, weak ones throughout the house and had previously insisted that they were good enough). The carpets are a different, more vibrant color. Everyone's happy. I try to leverage the new-found appreciation for cleanliness by talking my parents into getting rid of or at least organizing the crap all over the floors and furniture. They don't disagree. We'll see what happens.