Picking my battles

I just can't get a grasp on what Martha is thinking or doing or feeling.
For the first time in a long time, she was actually nice about my birthday. She even presented me with an iPod, quite a surprise.
As I waited for the other shoe to drop, it eventually did.
I called her last Wednesday to discuss a couple of things: her 50th birthday party and going to a counseling session together. After going over details of her birthday, I got up enough courage to ask her about the counseling. After making a couple of excuses, she hesitatingly agreed to attend. But then, she said she probably couldn't come over this weekend to give me some time away from home because she had all these other things going on.
First I wanted to ask her if this meant she wouldn't see Mom at all this weekend because it would be a week since Martha has seen her - at her house during my birthday party. Then I wanted to scream at her that giving me time away from home should be a priority with her because it's the only time I get out of the house to relax. But I didn't say either one. I think I just sighed and said something like, "OK."
By Friday, after my morning session with my counselor, I was ready to call her and ask her to make time to come over here for a couple of hours. Just as I was about to call her, Martha called me. She said she was going over her weekend schedule and decided she could come over about 10 a.m. Saturday, which would give me about three hours to do some errands. Marvelous! I was so excited. I got my grocery list out, decided I would go to a couple of garden shops just to see what they had, I could donate a couple of used file cabinets to Goodwill, and then have lunch somewhere, depending on where I had a coupon. I was really looking forward to Saturday morning, when I could actually take my time to enjoy myself a little. Then one shoe dropped.
During our conversation, I told Martha that my counselor made arrangements for us to meet with her next Saturday afternoon and that a friend had agreed to stay with Mom during our session. Martha said she had been thinking about it and decided she may not go. My heart dropped down to my knees. She continued by saying that I already had a relationship with the counselor and she just didn't feel comfortable. I asked her to think about it anyway and she said she would.
Is she afraid of what the counselor might bring up? Is she afraid of being confronted about something she would rather just ignore? Who knows. I think she is afraid.
But it made me angry and hurt that at first she would say she was willing to go to the counselor with me and then say nope, changed her mind and probably will not go. I think I am more hurt than angry.
And then the other shoe dropped this morning.
Martha said she would be here by 10 a.m. I slept in, and then hurried around here to get everything ready. I took the dog outside, made Mom's breakfast, made the dog's breakfast, took a shower, got clothes out of the dryer and was ready for Martha by 10:05 a.m., a miracle. And then I waited. And waited. And waited. Until 10:30 a.m.
Martha finally arrived at 10:30 a.m. with a latte in hand. I asked her about being here by 10 a.m. and she said, "I told you 10 or 10:30." I said I had made plans and, since she had a hair appointment at 1:30, that only gave me two-and-a-half hours to get all my errands done. All she said was, "Oh, sorry." I got out of here at 10:40, because I had to tell Martha about finishing Mom's breakfast, how many pills she got in the morning, etc.
As I pulled out of the driveway, I was so hurt and angry. She just doesn't think that I make plans if I ever have a free moment. I got my grocery shopping done, got rid of the file cabinets that had been banging around in the car for almost a week and went to a local drive-in because I didn't have time to actually sit down to have lunch anywhere. I barely made it home by 1 p.m. Martha did help me unload the groceries and then she was off to do her social outings for the weekend.
I am thinking about calling her tomorrow to talk to her about this. I miss going out in public. I miss going out to shop, even though I don't have any money, it's nice to look at things. It's just nice to have time alone and not think about Mom's condition for a while. But Martha seems oblivious to that and I need her to recognize that. The more she doesn't, the more hurt and angry I become and I don't want to feel that way.
I just don't want to fight, but this might be one battle I might have to fight anyway.