Moldy Cheese, Missing Knobs, Select Seats, and The In-Laws

     A while back, I stated that I had learned my lesson and I wasn't going to try to win over my in-laws anymore. I was going to say "No" when they asked for favors or tried to drag me into their madness.

     It sounded good when I said it. I guess no one is really surprised that I caved and am now sitting in the center of Crazytown.

     Planning for our future retirement, Herbie and I decided to invest in a house in Florida while the real estate prices are so low. It's a lovely house and I could easily live there full-time. FIL and MIL asked if they could bring some friends down to the house for two weeks to get away from the cold. All of them are in their eighties. We of course agreed and I volunteered to go down a few days early to get the house ready, pick them up from the airport so they wouldn't have to drive, and then stay a few days to show them how everything works. I also wanted to stock the fridge and cook a few meals for them.

     Before leaving PA, I called my MIL to ask what groceries she wanted me to buy. She listed a handful of breakfast items, but when I asked what they wanted to eat for their lunches, she told me that they usually eat cheese and crackers. I asked what kind of cheese I should buy and she told me she was bringing a block of cheese in her suitcase. I explained that cheese is available in FL, but she said they like a certain brand, so she was packing it. They had an hour drive to the airport, a two hour wait for their flight, a two hour flight, and then between getting luggage and the drive to the house, another two and a half hours. That poor cheese sat in that suitcase for at least seven and a half hours. I'm surprised it didn't show up on the airport screeners as a deadly weapon.

     They were scheduled to land at 2:46. Daughter J and I were dutifully waiting in the cell phone lot and saw on the board that they had landed early at 2:18. By three, we still hadn't heard anything. I tried calling my FIL's phone, but no answer. Finally, at about 3:15, he answered. I asked where he was and he said outside US Airways. He had called my brother-in-law and told him to call Herbie and have Herbie call me. I asked him why he didn't just call my phone and he said he didn't have the number. I had in fact given both him and my MIL my cell number.

     We picked them up and started driving to the house, which is a beautiful hour and fifteen minute drive down the coast. Usually, guests are blown away by the scenery along the way. Instead, my guests chose to start a conversation about the seating on the plane that went something like this:

     Guest One-"I paid $50 for a select seat, but that other fellow said he paid $25 for the same seat and he wouldn't move."

     Guest Two-"He paid $25 and you paid $50? That doesn't seem right."

     Guest Three-"Did he pay $25 or $50?"

     Guest One-"He paid $25. I paid $50."

     Guest Two-"That doesn't seem right."

     Guest One-"And he wouldn't move."

     Guest Two-"That doesn't seem right."

     This continued for ten minutes. Then there was a five minute silence. I looked back to see that they had all nodded off. Then out of nowhere:

     Guest Two-"Why would you have to pay $50 and he only had to pay $25? That doesn't seem right," and we were off to the races again. This continued for the entire hour and fifteen minutes, only broken up by brief naps (Theirs, not mine. I wanted to nap so badly, but I was driving, so it didn't seem like a good idea) I can only imagine what the guy who paid $25 for the seat on the plane had to listen to for the two hour flight.

     Even though none of them would be driving to or from the airport, they all wanted to know what highway we were on, had just been on, and would be getting on. I was glad to tell them, but then they forgot and asked again. And again. And again.  One of the members of the party is a retired priest, so I couldn't even mumble curse words under my breath (not that Mom ever does that, darling daughters who might be reading this).

     We reached the house and got everyone settled into their rooms. I had planned to cook salmon for dinner, but they decided they wanted to go out. Then they decided they wanted to stay in and have takeout, so I dug out menus, took orders, and went to pick up the food.  I had bottled water, soda, ice tea, coffee, and juice at the house, but not tomato juice, which is the only thing FIL kept asking for even after we told him we didn't have any, so off I went to the grocery store. I was tempted to lie down in one of the aisles until the manager made me go home, but I resisted.

     I have a great deal of respect and compassion for the elderly, especially as I am fast approaching that time in my own life, so don't think I'm heartless. I am just exhausted. I'm still trying to get my strength back after my surgery and I foolishly thought, "What better way to recover--a week in the sun while being around in case my in-laws need anything or have any questions!" I pictured lovely dinners out, lying in a beach chair reading during the day, and watching the sun set over the ocean. That's not quite how it's turned out.

     I don't remember running around this much when I had a two year old, a four year old, and a newborn. Someone always needs something. Mostly, they can't figure out how to make anything work and no matter how many times I show them, they forget and need me to do it again. This includes door locks, appliances, TV remotes, lawn chairs, the hot tub, tupperware, showers, light switches, thermostats, and trash cans. My MIL went into the garage to put the trash out and got "trapped" in there, even though there are big buttons on the wall to open the automatic doors and a side door that leads outside. They insist on having the screen doors shut so no bugs get in (even though I leave them open all the time and have never had a problem) but then they keep walking into the screens and getting angry. My father-in-law took all the knobs off the dresser in his room since one was broken and went to the hardware store to pick out new ones (without telling me or giving me a choice in the matter) but returned empty-handed, so I guess I'll add shopping for drawer knobs to my list of things to do.

     They drove into town to do some shopping. My MIL bought a bathing suit, then they wandered through a bunch of stores just browsing. When they got home, one of the men came into the kitchen where I was working on dinner. I asked if they'd had a good time and he said after walking around for about an hour, my MIL realized she didn't have her sunglasses. They retraced their steps again and again, but couldn't find them, so she bought a new pair. Then when they were driving home, one of the ladies couldn't find her package, so they drove back to their original parking spot. When she climbed out of the van to see if it was on the ground, she realized it had been on the floor by her feet the whole time. Minutes later, my MIL found that the "missing" sunglasses were in her purse. Basically, they spent three hours looking for things they hadn't lost. I laughed at the story. It was harder to keep laughing as one by one they each wandered into the kitchen to tell me the exact same story. When I would try to stop them by saying, "I know, so and so already told me," they would say, "Did he/she tell you . . ." and just continue telling the whole thing. When my MIL finally came into the kitchen, I asked, "Hey, Mom, do you have an extra pair of sunglasses I can borrow? I can't find mine even though I've looked everywhere." It took her a minute, then she laughed along with everyone else.

     One of the women was complimenting my cooking and hospitality and said, "Herbie sure knew what he was doing when he married you." My FIL was horrible to me from the minute we announced our engagement all the way up until about ten years ago and he still has his moments of cruelty. I thought that at his advanced age when many people try to make amends for past hurts, and considering he's had thirty years to see that I've been a good wife and mother, I'd give him an opening to say something nice. So I pointed to him and said, "Could you please tell him that? He was convinced that Herbie was ruining his life by marrying me." Crickets.

     They are very appreciative of the meals I've cooked and the errands I've run and they do try to help out as much as possible. Part of the problem is not theirs, but mine. Since I am a huge germaphobe, it's hard for me to reach into cupboards and drawers and pull out items they have washed that are still covered with large chunks of food they didn't see. Or to watch them dry dishes with a dish towel that they just dragged across the trash can or the floor while putting things away. Like I said, this probably wouldn't even register with most people. They would just be grateful for the help. I'm trying to squelch my phobia because I know that it means a lot to them to be able to help. Too many people already treat them like they are useless. I'm doing a lot of squelching this week. I hope it burns calories.

     There are memories of this week that will have to be purged from my brain like when I heard my FIL telling my brother-in-law on the phone that he had already put his dinner order in with the maid (that would be me) or when I was told I would be driving them to a restaurant an hour away on Sunday to meet up with another family member who is visiting FL. I will definitely wipe out the dinner conversation when the priest asked me if one of the couple's bedroom activities had kept me awake the night before (I suggest you try to forget this, too). Then there was the descriptive story my FIL shared about that couple's honeymoon so many, many years ago. I'm trying hard to forget that one of the men came into the kitchen carrying a soiled adult diaper and put it into the kitchen trash because he couldn't find the can in the bathroom. I'll try to forget that in the middle of our hospitality to them, my FIL told me that both Herbie and I need to lose weight. And I'll make sure I don't remember all the calls from my sisters-in-law making sure I haven't let their parents drown, wander off, or starve to death.

     I will have some nice memories from this week---talking to my MIL about C's upcoming wedding, proudly answering all the questions about what my daughters are up to, my FIL telling my BIL that he has laughed so hard here his stomach hurts and knowing I was responsible for some of those laughs, and watching the six of them scarf down five pounds of salmon in one sitting after being told they don't eat much.

      My favorite memory of all came last night---standing in the doorway to the sitting room and seeing four of these gray-haired treasures sitting on the couch wearing 3D glasses as they watched a movie. It was priceless. I wish I had taken a picture.

     I'm staying until Tuesday when I have to fly home to take care of some wedding appointments. They'll be here by themselves until I return the following Monday to drive them to the airport.

     When I open the door after a week of being away, I might find all the screen doors busted through, or every light in the house on since they couldn't figure out how to turn them off, or all of them "trapped" in the garage, or the knobs taken off every piece of furniture in the house.

     As long as I don't walk in on the noises the priest asked me about, I'll survive.