We all have in-laws. Well, okay, not ALL of us, because we’re not all partnered up, but the concept is a familiar one to most. My in-laws are what you’d call . . . great. They love me which helps, they are liberal minded like me, which I approve of heartily, they gave birth to my beloved husband, so that’s a plus and they live far away. All in all, it’s a pretty good deal, except well, they’re kind of odd.
For one thing, they are incredibly interesting people on paper. My Father-in-law is a Episcopalian priest, with a deep love of scotch and a genial eye toward the ladies. My Mother-in-law is a native born Canadian and classically trained pianist who made it into Julliard when she was a girl, but after one day in New York wigged out and ran back home. They are both hippies at heart with a love of the outdoors, foul mouths and a hatred of anyone with the last name of Bush. In fact, the first time I met them, I happened to be wearing a tee under my sweater that said “My Bush would make a better President” and when they happened to see it, they loved it. Awkward, but funny.
So how did these two liberal, peace loving, hippies raise a cop and an Infantry officer? And why when they’ve never been anything but incredibly loving and supportive to me, do I fear extended periods of time with them? When we lived in the city, they came to stay with us in our 700 sq. ft. one BR apartment. They stayed for six days and nights. SIX! We gave them our bedroom complete with closet space, a TV, cable and DVD player, but they spent every moment with us. The living room became our bedroom and yet, they stayed up with us until we practically kicked them out around midnight and they were up even before we arose for work in the morning. I love them, but not that much. I worked long hours when I could just for some “me” time.
This holiday, we will be spending five nights with them in Wisconsin, sleeping on a full size mattress that is slightly less comfortable than the cold cement floor of the garage. The mattress and box springs currently reside on the floor, because the last time we stayed with them, we broke the bed, but not from doing anything fun. This bed is so seriously uncomfortable that even my husband who has slept standing up during Ranger training cannot sleep on it without major back pain. So what do I do? It’s a small house that they keep too cold like many of the budget conscious AARP set, Dad controls the TV, Mom hovers nervously and the two German Shepherds and two cats run amok and shed hair or drool on every surface.
Anyone that knows me knows that I am not a patient person, nor do I do well in situations in which I do not have some control. Being trapped in the snow blanketed hamlet of WI, without a car, without a warm and comfortable place to sleep, and in a position that I have to be nice ALL THE TIME. Being nice is not really my thing and while I love my in-laws, I love my personal space and alone time more. I do have one trick up my sleeve. I know their weakness and I’m not afraid to exploit it. An expensive bottle of scotch for Dad and a big bottle of red for Mom and I might induce a little quiet time for me. Now if I could just figure out how to bring a huge lint brush and a memory foam mattress topper without offending them. Then again if I saved the scotch and wine for myself, the rest of it probably wouldn’t bother me.
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