The best laid plans...

Today, Hoot and I were having a great time together. I had the day off followed by another day off and open shifts for Saturday and Sunday. With my schedule, this meant a dose of some decent family time. You know, four nights in a row with me being home for my baby's bedtime followed by that all too rare TV time. I had it all planned out. Today would be play day. We'd do very little work around the house and Hoot could help me make a pizza. Tomorrow, we'd do the chores. Each night would have a little Olympics and an episode of Lost that we've been getting from Netflix. Then, the phone rang.

My mother in law never calls. In the first ten years of our marriage, I can remember her calling us about five times. That was just fine with me. It averaged out to be a call every two years. Usually, this meant someone got married or died. You know, big stuff.

When the phone rang this afternoon, I looked at the caller id and let the voice mail have it. It was my MIL. When I checked, she didn't leave a message. Okay, no big deal, I guess no one died. Then she called again five minutes later. This time she did leave a message. It said that unless she heard from us, they would assume that it would be fine for them to come down this weekend. By this weekend, I knew she meant tomorrow.

Now, to give you an idea of the relationship with my MIL, let me say that I have been married over fifteen years. She does not know how to spell my name. I used to be tolerable and nice. Used to be. When I gave birth to Hoot, I had a few complications. I crushed my femoral nerve in my right leg and two disks in my lower back. For the first four weeks, I was told to not lift anything over ten pounds. Um, the baby was ten pounds, so this advice wasn't always followed. But, I spent the first three months of his life walking stooped and dragging around my right leg. My MIL came to see us when the baby was a little over three weeks old.

I made a nice dinner (which was totally tough to do) and while I was finishing it all up, she sat in my kitchen and dug through my drug basket asking me what everything was for. Then she pointed out that I was going to have to keep my floors cleaner now that I had a baby. Now, if this woman was a modeled after Bree Van De Kamp, I would've taken it. But this is the same woman who stored homemade preserves in a box next to the toilet in the back bathroom that doesn't have a door. The same bathroom where you couldn't wash your hands because there was too much clutter spilling into the sink. And, despite me setting all the plates, napkins, glasses, and silverware in front of her, didn't even offer to set the table. On that visit, I decided to just stop trying. I was officially over it.

And, guess who's coming to dinner. But, actually, there is a small ray of hope. We declined letting them come tomorrow. We told them they could come on Saturday and leave Sunday, but they are on the fence because they don't want to miss church on Sunday morning. So, everyone, cross your fingers and root for church! However, as it stands, they will be coming in to town on Saturday and spending the night with us.

I am not happy.

Things I'd rather do than have my in laws step foot into my house:

• Root canal
• Followed by a second root canal
• Natural childbirth
• Attend a rattlesnake roundup (I hate snakes)
• Spend Saturday night at a Kingdom Hall brushing up on why I'm going to hell

Oh, I could go on, but you get the idea. Now, I have so many things to do tomorrow. I just hate it. I don't know what DH is going to do to compensate, but it better be good. And he better make sure she doesn't feed Hoot any of her preserves!

Overheard at the bookstore:

From in front of the Libros en español section:

Hey look, Skinny Bitch is Skinny Bitch in Spanish, too!

Oh, and on a side note: Bryan, TGIF!