I had decided I wouldn't write about my stepmother, but after yesterday all bets are off. I arrived with the kids just after ten - my dad was out and the very first thing she said to me was, "Why didn't you tell ME you were coming for lunch, I was only told late last night, which makes things really difficult. You've got to run it by me, not your father.." What about that for a welcome.
Now I had sorted it out with my dad. He had booked tickets for the theatre - she knew about that - the only change we made was me going to them a little earlier. The fact he hadn't told her wasn't my fault - but in her warped world it absolutely was.
I felt like getting back in the car and driving off. Instead I took a deep breathe and pointed out we were more than happy to have a sandwich and it wasn't a big deal.
The thing that really bugs me is I only come over to Ireland once or twice a year - WHY couldn't she just have kept it to herself, rather than making me feel uncomfortable because my father's got a bad memory?!
After slaving over a hot stove to cook a frozen lasagne (yes, after all that...) lunch took 10 minutes and we went on to see a performance of 'The Little Prince' - my stepmother's recommendation. One of her friends had told her that her four year old grand daughter had loved it......... well my four year old didn't. In fact none of us did.
It might have helped if we'd read the book. The performance was quite surreal and hard to follow - goodness knows why the theatre thought it was child friendly - most of the kids in the audience were wiggling and fidgeting in their seats.
It was also a musical. Now although I can appreciate how good the preformers were, for me the best part of a musical is always going to be the clapping at the end....
Of course it's all got to be MY fault because I didn't read the reviews.