Too much drama, too many words. You lost my sympathy after your basic information turned into a book.

YOUR HOUSE
YOUR RULES
YOUR PROBLEM

Either you put a stop to it or your other kids will do the same thing too.

OP, certainly sounds like your DD is a selfish brat. How old is she? Was this a planned pregnancy?

I do wonder if it's possible that she has PPD. After my DC was born, I went to my parents' almost every day. I would hand the baby to my mom and "check out" much like you describe your daughter doing. But, I was really good at hiding the other symptoms and just claiming to be tired, etc. So no one saw that I was struggling. One day when DD was 6 months I grabbed a knife off the counter and went to stab myself in the stomach with it. I stopped myself and was shocked enough to finally seek help.

I may be projecting, of course, but so much of what you write sounds familiar. The daily visits the mom, the envy of my siblings' child free lives, the desire to check out, the lack of desire to play with my child, the giving in to all desires so as to avoid listening to crying, the putting chores ahead of childcare . . . I don't know, but you may want to talk to your daughter about how she's really doing with motherhood.

OP, certainly sounds like your DD is a selfish brat. How old is she? Was this a planned pregnancy?

I do wonder if it's possible that she has PPD. After my DC was born, I went to my parents' almost every day. I would hand the baby to my mom and "check out" much like you describe your daughter doing. But, I was really good at hiding the other symptoms and just claiming to be tired, etc. So no one saw that I was struggling. One day when DD was 6 months I grabbed a knife off the counter and went to stab myself in the stomach with it. I stopped myself and was shocked enough to finally seek help.

I may be projecting, of course, but so much of what you write sounds familiar. The daily visits the mom, the envy of my siblings' child free lives, the desire to check out, the lack of desire to play with my child, the giving in to all desires so as to avoid listening to crying, the putting chores ahead of childcare . . . I don't know, but you may want to talk to your daughter about how she's really doing with motherhood.

No advice except to keep writing. Essays? Blog? I love your style

This isn't really about "boundaries." This is about the fact that your adult daughter does not respect you or your home, and you let her get away with it.

First, you can enforce your house rules in your house--if your grandson is eating in the living room, tell him not to. Take the food away or move him from the room. Buy baby gates and gate off areas you don't want him in. If you keep him in just a room or two, it's less work to keep an eye on him when your daughter is flaking out. I'd also pare down the pantry so that your home is no longer a source of candy or junk food.

You need to enforce some consequences. If someone came over to do laundry and left my house a giant mess, they would not be doing laundry at my house. Period. I'd unplug the machine without telling them so it literally would not work, if I had to.

At a time when you are calm, tell your daughter that you love her and you love to see your grandson, but she needs to treat your house with respect--respecting rules about food in the living room, and cleaning up after herself and her son. Apologize for criticizing her parenting, but stick to your guns on the need to treat you with respect.

Anonymous wrote:It must have taken you at least an hour to write that post. How is that possible when you are so busy taking care of two post surgical teenagers and cleaning up a completely trashed house?

I get the feeling none if this happened yesterday. It's only the first few days that post surgical care is hard from wisdom teeth. This was also written pretty late at night when kids are presumably sleeping. Don't be so quick to judge.

It must have taken you at least an hour to write that post. How is that possible when you are so busy taking care of two post surgical teenagers and cleaning up a completely trashed house?

Anonymous wrote:Set your own boundaries before criticizing her for not setting her own.

This.

And honestly this is what happen when you have kids and are too young. You likely parented your DD in the same manner back when you were her age.

You should have stopped her at the front door - sorry now isn't a good time for a visit, you siblings are sick.

Way too damn long, OP. You're clearly an aspiring blogger so here's some free advice: learn to edit.

And if you're a grandparent in your early 40s, both you and your daughter had children awfully young. It doesn't sound like she's a model parent right now, and I'm guessing you weren't either, if you raised a child who had a child very young and believes Skittles are an appropriate diet for a toddler. But here's a silver lining for you: these cycles tend to repeat themselves, so soon enough your obnoxious daughter will be a 40yo grandmother with a poorly-behaved grandchild to make her life difficult. Cheers!

I want to be your friend! LOVE your writing style!!!

It's ok. We all lose our shit sometimes. It's your house and honestly us big little adults need to be put into check when we are knowingly taking advantage of our parents.

It will all be fine. Just apologize and tell her if she does a load of laundry she has to do one if yours.

Thanks for the laughs and hope it all gets better.

Oh yeah, ignore the grumpy ass bitches here in dcum.

Set your own boundaries before criticizing her for not setting her own.

The apple didn't fall far from the tree. You haven't been willing to set boundaries with your daughter, just like she hasn't been willing to set boundaries with her son. Set reasonable boundaries with her and your DGS, before you feel run over and just explode.

OP, look. Stop enjoying being a martyr, because you are reveling in it. Stop enjoying the drama so much.

Step up and tell her that you can't possibly have her over while her siblings are recovering.

Step up. Until you get more out of voicing your feelings than you get out of passive-aggressive venting, this is going to continue. There is no reward in heaven for putting up with this. Period.

First of all, you clearly like to write. You included a lot that didn't need including - next time edit for brevity.
Second of all, presumably your daughter has somewhere she lives with her fat toddler and husband - why can't she do her laundry there?
Third of all, I have a 2 yr old and a 3 yr old and that shit would NEVER fly with me. We don't even keep sugary snacks in our house on any sort of regular basis. You're not too old. Too old for what? To live?
Fourth of all, it's YOUR FUCKING HOUSE. YOU make the rules about what goes on there. "Larlo in this house we wash our hands when we come in the front door." "Larlo the house rule is all food stays in the kitchen. If you want to eat, sit down at the table." Stop letting your daughter walk all over you. "From now on, you need to call and see if it's a good time to come over since you're so disruptive to the household. if you came over and immediately pitched in, then I wouldn't have to do this. Sorry, but going forward you need to call." Then lock your door.
Fifth of all, make sure your other three are not about to turn out like the oldest. The only thing worse than one bratty adult child is multiple bratty adult children.
Sixth of all, tell your daughter to take care of her son and control him. If he makes a mess, hand HER the cleaning solution and rag and say "Larlo spilled koolaid on that chair, so you'll need to clean that up before it stains. And please tell him all food and drinks MUST be consumed in the kitchen. This is a house rule EVERYONE has to abide by, including you and Larlo." Get a backbone, lady.

This might be a little long. I seriously need to vent. I'm not even sure where to start but there are some things that have been weighing heavily on me lately and I really could use some advice before I open my mouth and say all the wrong things again and make a huge mess of an already messy situation.

I love my DD but she has me so frustrated right now. To give you some basic info, she's an adult, has my 2.5 y/o DGS, doesn't live at home but lies locally and is the oldest of 4 children. The other 3 are still under 18 and living at home.

Just last month we had a talk regarding boundaries and respecting my home. I was reluctant to say anything but I've worked very hard for my things and I didn't want them ruined. I politely asked her if she could please honor the rule about not having food and drinks in the living room when she visited and not let the baby wander with food. It's been a long standing rule in my house since Noah built the Ark and I don't feel I should have to compromise on it now. To be frank, I'm tired of scrubbing food out of my furniture and rug every time she comes over. I'm not a neat freak by any stroke of measure but I really don't care to sit on a couch if it's going to be crispy. I never considered that's too much to ask for. Furniture is expensive and I'm not embracing having to replace it.

I thought we were on the same page about respect until last week when 2 of my kids had oral surgery (wisdom teeth removed) on the same day. (Side note: don't EVER do that no matter how much of a good idea it seems! In my next life I will schedule this sporting event on 2 separate appts, months apart.) None the less, I had just barely managed to drag them in the house. Talk about some magical shit. Think about it.... 2 teenagers + waking up from anesthesia + narcotics + novacaine wearing off. This is the stuff dreams are made of. I did the best thing I could think of... I put 1 child on each couch thinking it would be easier to take care of them if they were in the same room. All of a sudden the front door opens and in walks DD with a jet propelled DGS sporting the latest Spring fashion in cheeto coated suits with Kool Aid stitching. He was handsome - as usual. She knew her siblings were having surgery so obviously this wasn't the best time for a visit. However, I'm always happy to see them both so I kept my mouth shut even after I figured out she wasn't here for a social call or help out. Instead, her itinerary included doing her laundry, raiding my pantry and ignoring her son, as usual. In that, she expected me to keep an eye on DGS while she plays on her phone/internet and updates her social media because well... it's critical to the lives of her friends to know what she's doing every second of the day.

I can't. It's not that I don't want to but I just can't. Both children are in extreme pain. One of the kids was nauseous. I've got the phone in one hand talking to the doctor and her hair in the other trying to keep it out of her face while she's hovering over a very small wastecan. Awesome.... this was a great idea! Just as I say to myself, "How bad can this shit really get" DGS kicks on what I refer to as 'baby afterburners' and kamikaze pilots through the house. He commences the most spectacular rampage of getting into things, throwing food all over the room and pouncing on the one child that wasn't currently puking. (please note I said currently).

This is the part where I realize I'm too fucking old to grow a 3rd arm but I definitely needed one. His mother was in the kitchen doing God knows what. I asked her to go to the pharmacy to pick up the miracle drug the doctor called in that will make her sister stop puking. Yes, she said, as long as I could watch the baby because she didn't want to drag him with her. It's too hard. You've got to be fucking kidding me. Wow.

I go myself.

Day 2. It's morning and I'm half delirious after being up all night medicating the faculties out of 2 kids and trying to keep them hydrated. Thank you God for creating the all mighty coffee bean and delivering it unto my kitchen in the form of liquid energy. However, it would be nice if this shit were available in IV format. Both kids are convinced they're dying. To be honest, I wasn't totally convinced they weren't. In fact, judging from the amount of disfiguring swelling, I wasn't totally convinced they were human anymore. Whatever they were, it was my job to keep them alive since at some point I'm going to have to pass these creatures off as my children. Their faces looked like someone whacked off their heads and replaced with balloons. I finally got them both equally medicated on a rich cocktail of anti-puking stuff, narcotics, ibuprofen and a dash of Carnation Essentials cleverly disguised and passed off as chocolate milk (as per docs instructions). Their jaws are neatly packed with ice as though I were planning to ship their heads across the country and they were both wrapped like burritos as they lay on the couches whimpering like 2 teenagers wearing chipmunk disguises. As soon as I saw their eyes glaze over I proceeded to assess the damage from the adventures of Captain Chaos the previous day.

My house looked like I was testing missiles. No. Fucking. Joke.

I start cleaning. I pick up the baking size box of raisens off the living room floor, retrieve a Costco sized box of tampons from the half bath, sweep up the bag of chips from the kitchen and so on. Just as I was scrubbing what resembled red kool aid out of my wool (professionally clean only and I'm not pro) area rug in the formal dining room, DD comes bouncing in toting a smiling, happy, chocolate covered DGS to do even more laundry at my house, for free. This idea was so popular the day before that the resident kids scatter as though they're cockroaches and someone flipped a light on. DS just wants to rest and recover from surgery so he snaps off a rather unkind comment at her as he slinks off to his room and slams the door. Puking DD (who is still puking intermittently) tries to do the same but isn't so good at the being upright activity, gives up and goes back to the couch. The 2 of them exchange snarky remarks followed by several muffled 'up yours' and 'blow it out your ass' comments.

Awesome. Today is going to be magical! I'm stoked!

Just then laundry DD locates me, bitches me out about the comments siblings made to her and how rude and inconsiderate they are, she feels unwelcome and wtf is everyone's problem anyway? I'm annoyed. Did I mention I'm annoyed? I give her my famous 'I'm about to lose my shit' look and leave the room. 5 minutes later she freaks out at me because I have the nerve to use my own washing machine and now she won't have time to do hers before picking up hubs from work.

That's it. Seriously...just.... it. The argument took off faster than the lead horse at Preakness and progressively got more and more creative on both ends before the civil defense sirens were heard and the nuclear blast happened.

I lost my shit. When I say lost my shit I mean the steam coming out of my ears from anger could have burned down a compound. I said things. Lots of things. I broke the cardinal rule and crossed a boundary that I swore I wouldn't cross. Maybe it was a combination of stress and exhaustion. Maybe I was just overwhelmed by the puking competition that was taking place in my living room. Maybe it was DD and her poor timing of popping in with DGS-zilla. I don't know. But suffice to say what I experienced was the closest thing to a conniption that I've ever had.

Aside from the fact that she refuses to respect my home and rules, I laid into her about how life isn't all about her, this isn't her house and her lack of respect for her family pisses me off. I reiterated that I didn't think I was asking for much in expecting my rules to be followed and that I thought she was selfish. Then for the first time ever I made the mistake of criticizing her as a mother. I shouldn't have done that. You don't have to tell me I shouldn't have done that. I'm well aware that unsolicited advice regarding grandchildren is a bad idea. Did I mention that I kinda lost my shit though? Yep, I know it's an excuse and not a reason. I'm not exactly June Cleaver, but a part of me thinks that some things just needed to be said.

DGS has no boundaries, no structure, and absolutely no discipline at all (not even redirection when he's getting into stuff). Clearly it's none of my business to say anything about any of those things and I almost regret it. But I don't regret voicing concerns about his diet. She parents with a tv and an endless stream of snacks as though life were a real live skittles commercial. I've never seen this child eat anything aside from chips, cheetos, candy and whatever sugar coated junk food happens to be thrown his way. He will not touch veggies, pasta or meat except to throw them on the floor or across the room. She admitted to me that she doesn't give him these things because he won't eat them. I did see him eat a piece of banana once though. Considering the rest was strategically ground into my favorite wing chair, I'm pretty sure it was accidental (the tasting not the grinding). He's 2.5 years old and already considerably overweight. At the rate he's going, I fear he'll develop diabetes by the age of 12. Food is an activity to him and not only has he come to expect access to it 24/7, he'll demand it. She caves in and gives him what he wants because it's easier than listening to him throw a tantrum. I'm concerned. Really concerned. It seems like some of his kamikaze craziness stems from the abundance of sugar he's getting.

Am I too old? She said I was too old and don't remember what it's like to have a toddler. She might be right. I'm only in my early 40's but this weekend I felt like I was 107. My youngest is a pre-teen, so I don't think things have changed THAT much since I had a toddler around. I definitely don't have as much patience as I used to. Aside from overstepping my boundaries and voicing my opinion, I can't figure out where I went wrong with this DD. I don't know if I'm more disappointed in her or myself for not teaching her better. However, she's made it pretty clear that I'm an asshole and threatened to keep DGS away from 'this awful family.' I believe that she would too. I don't know which is worse... not seeing DGS or seeing DGS continue to be treated this way and having my house trashed when she comes over. When I asked her to compromise, she said she's not going to compromise and stormed out.

Sigh... this is NOT what I wanted to accomplish and I'm not sure where to go from here. Any suggestions? She hasn't talked to me since.