Hand Me a Paper Bag Will You?

I'm not a comfortable hostess. Shocking, I know. The thought of people other than my children or my husband coming into my home, my space, makes my blood pressure rise and my boobs droop.

Well, okay, my boobs droop any ways, but I like the idea of blaming it on visitors.

When we planned the floor design for our home, we thought for about a split second of having a guest room. And then I laughed merrily and thought why encourage people to stay over? Our home is a comfortable size, it fits me and my family nicely.

But there is no room for others.

Others that plan on spending the night, using my shower, poking about in my pantry and finding my hidden alcoholic stash.

Which is why I'm sitting here, breathing deeply, trying not to obsess over the fact that for the first time in our ten plus years of marriage, we are having overnight guests. For two nights. Three days. In my home. My home with no basement and no place to hide, except perhaps in the back of my closet behind Boo's seldom used suit.

Deep breath.

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I love Boo's family. Really. I do. (I keep chanting this in my head, it's become my mantra.) It's just that I have never had to share space with them in my home. Sure, I've drunkenly imbibed while playing board games at their homes. Sure, I've stumbled on more than one occasion into their guest bedrooms and used their guest linens over the course of the years, but I've never invited them to return the favour on my turf.

Because I was smarter than that. Until now. Dammit.

So with eight adults and twelve kiddies set to arrive in a mere few hours, I'm hyperventilating. Where the hell am I going to put everybody? With no guest rooms. In my small house.

Double damn.

In my head, I know this will work out. I'm kicking all but the youngest kiddies out of the house and banishing them to face the wilderness in my yard. With nothing but a nylon tent and a flashlight between our precious children and the beasties that like to call my yard their home. I figure they can run fast. The kids that is. I'm hoping the beasties will mosey like drunken, disoriented creatures.

I'm going to refrain from mentioning that Nixon, the World's Greatest Dog. Ever, and I saw a brown bear mosey through our woods not more than thirty yards from where we stood scratching our asses on Tuesday.

What they don't know won't hurt them, right?

That's right. I'm setting the kiddies up to be bear bait. Could I be a better mother and auntie?

Boo came home in the middle of the night last night, to lend his support and serve as barbeque-er extraordinaire and official bartender for the masses. He's good like that. He knows I would have to kill him in a slow and painful manner if he left me to face his family by myself.

As he was pouring his morning coffee and I was checking my email for the latest penile enhancement advertisement, he asked how my day went yesterday.

My children chimed in before I had a chance to answer.

"Oh Mom, she had a little fit." Frac. Bugger. Remind me why I decided to have a second child?

"A fit? What was that all about?" Boo asked while looking at me curiously.

"Oh, it was more than a fit," Fric chimed in. "It was more like she unleashed the hounds of hell on Frac and I to clean up our rooms. It wasn't fun." The poor, abused child actually shuddered while she remembered me standing in her room with a garbage bag in one hand and a cross look on my face.

"I wasn't that bad. I was just making sure they cleaned their rooms properly, instead of shoving things under their beds." Sheesh. Talk about exaggeration. Where in the world do these kids get this from???

"You were that bad Mom! Dad, she told us if we didn't clean our rooms properly she was going to put us in a box, mark it 'Free to a Good Home' and drop us off at the dump. And she wasn't joking."

All right. Maybe I was that bad. But still. There are still only so many rotten apple cores, dirty socks and broken toys a mom can handle. Right?

"You know, honey, my family are coming to see us, not the house, right? They're not going to put on a pair of white gloves and inspect the place." He looked at me like I was some pathetic, socially-unfit, obsessive personality.

Completely unfair.

"At least, not in front of YOU," I retorted huffily.

"Aw, my sweet. I love you, even if you terrorize my children when I'm gone. Just relax and have fun. It will work out. Enjoy yourself. It's all good," and then he kissed me on my forehead like the patronizing ass he'd become.

Fine, I won't worry about this. I won't freak out over the fact that I forgot to order water and we may run out. I won't freak out over the fact that his family is arriving in three hours and I still haven't bought groceries to feed the herd. And I certainly won't worry about the small fact that there is only one half roll of toilet paper in the main bathroom. I'm just gonna hide the only extra roll in my bathroom to make sure I don't run out.

We're surrounded by trees. There's a lot of leaves available to his family.

I don't think the MIL will mind at all. She's a nature lover.

And if anyone complains, I'm just going to point to Boo and tell them all to relax. Enjoy yourselves. It will all work out in the end.

After all, it's all good.

I love my inlaws, I love my inlaws.

Now excuse me. I've got some cleaning to do.