Mine are the sort of in-laws who announce as they're driving across the country that they're going to drop in for four days. When they called my husband with this thrilling news, I spent the next couple of hours running round trying to hide magic wands and pacifiers as well as attacking that mountain of housework I thought I had all week to tackle, while my husband was trying to get the houserabbit to stop sticking its head in the Hoover long enough for him to actually vacuum the floor (the housework is usually my thing, but this was an emergency so it was all hands on deck)... and when they arrived (after hitting the bin when they parked on our drive), the first thing they said was "your garden needs weeding," as if they were sure we didn't make any effort at all for their arrival. And I thought to myself, "if only you knew how we just transformed the house."
But when I turned to share a giggle with my husband, he had disappeared upstairs. I found out why when we got a moment to ourselves; the four containers of play balls for our ball pit and my "shuffle them up" sexy scenario cards (patent pending - not) had been left in our spare room.
That was close.
If it was anyone else visiting, they would probably assume we had got most of this stuff in readiness for the kids we hope to one day have, but my husband's parents would then start asking all sorts of awkward questions and the next thing you know, our house would be filled with actual baby stuff, which we would have to store somewhere until such a time as we actually have children, which could be years from now.
So then we spent four days to-ing and fro-ing while they told us how much better everything was in their Big City, and when they left, I was like, "ahhhhhh, relief" I mean seriously, I did not breathe for four entire days in case his mother "just had a look" in our wardrobe or asked me about any of the litany of pervertables that I had hidden in plain sight, in the honest belief that we used them for their actual purpose. There was just one near miss:
On their last day, just as they were about to leave, she said she was going to the bathroom and from downstairs I could hear footsteps in our bedroom. I think I could have outrun Usain Bolt on those stairs, and I reminded her (less sarcastically) that the bathroom was still in the room with the open door where you could see a bath and a sink. She turned to me and said "do you regularly do yoga?" which left me utterly baffled, with a fixed smile on my face, for half a second, until I followed her gaze to on top of the wardrobe, where the "yoga wedge" stood fully inflated on top of a cardboard box. The yoga wedge is particularly ironic; I've never done yoga in my life unless by accident; I like my exercise to feel more... exercisey. I just smiled and nodded, and said "gotta love yoga, do you partake?" She shook her head, I waited for her to leave, then later, I inspected our room, SO glad I'd hidden everything away in seemingly innocuous blanket boxes with blankets on top, so there was nothing else she could have seen.
But I just know she's going to get me some yoga pants for Christmas now.
I'm just glad she didn't open the extra long poster tube that's full of canes and other long swishy things.
Lots of Love,
Copyright: 2016, Katie Douglas. Web Design: Katie Douglas.
Background image credit: Shashi Rupapara (image licensed under creative commons).