Remember this post? And this one?
The in-laws are coming back. The feeling of letting them back into my house is akin to letting lions into one's home: welcome them inside to tear apart your furnishings and family. Nothing good can come of this.
Thankfully this is just a short weekend trip for them to empty our garage of their stuff, not an extended live-in like we've dealt with in the past. Still... I want to run away. I have nowhere to go, but I can't stop them from coming, and I don't want to face them. There's no choice in the matter. I have to stay strong because they'll want to see R. If I run, R is coming with me; but no, they'll want to see her. I have to stay. Leaving R here without me is not an option. I don't trust them enough to be with my daughter unsupervised.
All I can do is let it go. Don't think about it too much or it'll tear me apart. The lions are already here: shadows of fear that lurk in my mind and stalk through the hallways. Am I stronger than a lion? Am I more cunning than a pair of lions? History says no. I should just lie down like the welcome mat on the floor when they step into my home. I get walked all over anyway.
I wish I had something more positive to say. Maybe in the next two weeks I'll learn how to tame a lion. I just have to put on the cool, confident mask that is reserved for these occasions as I twitch the whip in my hand. My only positive thought is that Labor Day weekend will come and go, and then we'll be done for now. Until the next holiday. Crap.
You can't run from lions forever.