Uh, getting me mam to meet halfway, anyone, please?

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Warning: rather teenaged.

The other week I asked my parents where my work shirt was for the shift the next day, and my mom went spare, and later started bellowing sporadically. Since I've gotten the picture that she's just refusing to wash my clothes as the linning basket overflows.
Since I have been increasingly nice and more talkative to her than ever, kowtowing and that. Last night I told her how much I appreciate her work around the house and got a dismissive grunt. I've been trying to meet halfway with no avail. What's more, for some reason she's not even washing my brother and sister's clothes, and they're down to their last pairs too. Apparently she'd told them that they just take it for granted, though it's frankly f*****g clear that they actually are. This is my fourth day in this pair of boxers. My appeasement behaviour is displayed increasingly through my teeth.
From experience, she is one of the least rational people I've met. Not even facts seem to shift her, and she has irrational hatred of so much. She also has the tendency to view us as the lowest offspring lifeforms on the planet and seems to have this utopian view of me having to be a fish-eating avid Archers fan who sketches pictures of blue tits, or what have you.

Now, I know that the first responses I'd get if I don't make this clear would be so: to do my own cleaning, but I disagree. I am in full-time education taking the sciences, sometimes get home on weekdays after 9pm, and have interests, exploits and work outside that. Plus, putting the toys back in the pram will only fuel her insane stream of irrationality.

This abject lack of logic really upsets me as I try to work my head around it self-destructively, and am feeling less and less hygienic. I can't seem to find solutions to it myself and it's making me very counterproductive.

Does anyone have any advice?

Thanks.

Advice: Do your own laundry!

If you gather your dirty clothes into a dark colored pile and a light colored pile, that takes about 10 minutes. Then the way I do it is I start the washer right before going to bed and leave them wet in the washer overnight. When I wake up I toss the clothes into the dryer. In about 30-40 minutes (time for breakfast & a shower) I have clean dry clothes.

Doing the wash overnight while you sleep may mean your mom won't realize you're doing your own laundry (and so won't try to dump more of her job on you), assuming you can figure out how to make the washer work without asking her - maybe ask a friend's mom to show you how it's done? Maybe your grandmother? Of course you'll have to sneak your clothes back to your room and lay them fairly flat on the bed so they don't wrinkle before you get home from school and can spend half an hour folding them. Maybe you should do small loads to keep folding time to a minimum.

I am sorry, however, to hear your mother is being so difficult. My mother went on strike when I was nine and my brother was eight. It was very selfish and lazy of her - she hadn't shown either of us how to cook, so we lived on cold cereal and peanut butter toast til my grandmother found out what was going on and taught us to fend for ourselves. My mother used to cook and eat her own meals right in front of us without offering to give her own children anything. Luckily she chose to sleep late every day and watch tv til time to go to bed so it was easy to hide how much we could do for ourselves.

Good luck! Sorry I can't answer your request, but I have no idea how to get that lazy b*tch to meet you halfway. Kowtowing, as youve seen, only makes them more sure they're in the right. She really should have thought about the work of taking care of children before she chose to have them. My mother threw so many tantrums over being "stuck with you g*ddamned kids" that both my brother and I have never considered becoming parents.

KaliMa, what your mother did, or rather didn't do, for your and your brother constituted neglect. I'm sorry she didn't care for you as she should have done.

The OP is not 9 years old, he is 17 years old. He is perfectly capable of doing his own laundry, and I really don't consider it to be his mother's job to do that. I do my son's laundry because he is 7 years old. I do not expect to be doing his laundry as a matter of course in 10 year's time.

Being in full-time education and having other interests and exploits in addition, doesn't mean that he can't launder his own clothes. He's not a child, he's a young man.

Who would do your laundry if you didn't stay at home?

Provided I have the equipment, myself.

Edit: I see where your going, but this fails to address and tackle my mom's rampant petulance, pedantry and increasing hostility she is brewing within the family, and segregating our activities, nor does it balance out the workforce. Being capable of doing something doesn't make it your obligation: my father could be made to do my brother's coursework; my sister could be made to redecorate a room. Doesn't necessarily make sense

You seem to see your mother only as someone who is there to take care of your needs. She is a person in her own right, and maybe you should spend less time being petulant about the fact that you are wearing dirty boxer shorts and more time thinking about why she is behaving the way she is.

I really don't think it's unreasonable that you do your own laundry. Something quite simple and straightforward seems to have become an insurmountable obstacle.

Your mother sounds stressed and unhappy.

Ha!

If anyone tried the smelly suit stunt on me, I'd solve that by simply throwing the contaminated clothing out. If I was feeling generous, I might just put in on his bed.

But, that might just be me being irrational, being a woman.

Thanks. She usually cracks out of this after some sycophancy. Hopefully it will go some way to sorting this out.

Woo, the machine stopped! The paler socks still have a yellowish look to them but on the whole I've got a clump of wet, scrumpled but hopefully wearable items which aren't in a mish mash. I'll leave them to dry and czech later when I wake up.