The MIL...
...arrived today at noon. She does not fly, so she left the driving to Greyhound - a 24-hour trip for what would have taken at most 10 hours in a car. Mercy. I didn't know until a few days ago that she was coming up. Heck, it was a surprise to Michael too. We honestly didn't think anyone from his family would ever come visit - it just isn't like them. They aren't traveling-vacationing-go-visit-each-other kind of folks. They are old-school rural Mississippi folks who rather enjoy just staying put. Can't really fault them for that.So, my mother-in-law is here. I've yet to see her as I'm still at work. Michael's teaching his summer class, and Cookie is at daycare. The MIL is in our house - alone - and probably sleeping. I'd say she has the 2 cats to keep her company, but they have never had pets, and from what I can gather, she is afraid of cats. As Callie and Macy Gray are quite social beasts, this should be interesting.
We bought a new bed (for her and any other guests who might want to stop in for a spell). It will be delivered tomorrow, so she'll be sleeping on the sofa tonight (most likely with the cats standing guard and watching her every move).
I like the bed I picked out - a "captain's bed" - twin size with storage underneath and a very cool bookshelf-style headboard. It wasn't the cheap-and-cheerful kind from Big Lots. It will likely last us quite a while, and for the price, it had better. We hope that once Cookie is out of the crib, that we will just be able to put rails on this one instead of using a toddler bed. Most toddler beds I've seen are pretty chintzy looking, and believe me, I've got enough primary-colored plastic objects all arond the house as it is. Ugh. I am now living in a plastic-toy, bouncy-seat paradise.
But I digress.
I like my MIL - I honestly do. But since she lives more than 600 miles away, I don't interact with her much. She loves her 1st born son (who is my husband), and that's all that really matters.
I'm wondering what made her change her mind about visiting. When we were down for the funeral last month, she had even stated that events probably meant she wouldn't be coming any time soon. We really understood - it takes a while to help settle affairs after a family member dies. My MIL is one who takes care of everyone it seems (except herself).
I'm worried, though. My MIL has never seen our house (or the city in which we live, for that matter). We are not fastidious folks. Now, things do not grow where things should not be growing and there is never a risk of contracting some funky illness because of a lack of cleanliness in our home - but it is cluttered for lack of a better word.
Books are everywhere in our home, and frequently one or both of us will be engaged in reading more than one book at a time in more than one room in the house. The same goes for magazines, too. Papers are usually strewn across the coffee table, and there is rarely room for a coffee cup. Michael's laptop usually sits on the coffee table in the evenings, and a baby bottle and burp cloth, and assorted small toys.
My MIL is not a judgemental person, and she won't be roaming around my house with a white glove testing for dust (anyway, she can see it, so no gloves are necessary). She won't care what it looks like. But I do. I get easily embarassed. My father designs houses for a living. He is a custom residential architect to the rich and famous on the coast of Florida. I grew up seeing every day the kinds of palacial homes I would never live in, let alone afford. To this day I am keenly aware of the kind of construction of a home, and the quality (or lack thereof). I am aware of furniture and interior design. I am aware of color, and placement - of form and function. It is a hinderance to my enjoyment of my own pedestrian lifestyle and home.
My own home will never be clean enough or beautiful enough, or well-designed enough for me to be completely satisfied. It will, however, have to be sufficient. I know what beauty and cleanliness is. I saw it most every day in the homes Dad designed.
My house did not get fully clean before my MIL arrived. I was too tired.
The stairs had clumps of cat hair on them. I asked Michael if he had vacuumed the stairs this morning before she arrived. He said he "did everything except that". Oh boy.
Since having a baby, I've given up on a lot of things that I dreamed about for my own living quarters (cleanliness being but one of those things). But I still get embarassed. My home feels too much like a reflection of me, and I don't want to think of myself as that cluttered or dirty. I mean, carrot-spit-up has gotten on the carpet, and I cleaned it up in a half-a'd kind of way that sufficed. The cats never had stairs before we bought this place in January, and now it is like the Cat-tona 500 Speedway. They are crack-heads. Fur flies everywhere and ends up in clumps on the pretty Berber carpet on the stairs. I do not vacuum it regularly because, well, that would mean getting out the vacuum cleaner and attatchments. Besides, it would just re-accumulate within a couple of days.
Well, I'm glad my MIL gets to bond with Cookie - I just hope she doesn't scream and cry when I bring her home tonight - stranger anxiety has started to set in already. The good thing about that is she's bonded well. The downside is - well, the screaming and crying.
OK - time to face the music. Wish me luck, folks.
posted by No Longer In Crisis @ 6/05/2006 04:36:00 PM
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