Running from Lions

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.

Thankful for... yeah.

If I seem closed-lipped and grumpy lately, it's because the in-laws are living with us.

While Senpai and my families are similar in some ways (mom and dad still together and well, one boy child and one girl child), they are also so very, very different, creating different environments to have grown up in, like night and day. Senpai, being the progeny of his parents, molds and blends right in with the chaos of having them here. He is so mellow and easy-going and all of my calm rests in him. Me, on the other hand, I feel like an outsider, and rightfully so, since I was raised by my parents. Completely different households, completely different personalities. I'm the third wheel that doesn't belong in this house. My house.

I don't watch the same movies as the three of them, I don't eat the same food, I don't laugh at the same jokes, and, no, I do not appreciate having my mom and I insulted on Thanksgiving. Once again, NO. Not in my house, not on Thanksgiving, not EVER. I'm pretty sure MIL wants me out of the picture. Just replace me with a woman who cleans more, eats everything, and continues to cook a wonderful meal for everyone to enjoy without getting upset that her heart was just crushed and she is expected to keep smiling while her and her family are badmouthed.

I'll get my heart crushed. I love my husband too much to go anywhere. Just don't expect me to smile anymore. What am I thankful for this Thanksgiving? That my daughter is healthy. That my husband loves me and keeps me (somewhat) sane in spite of the chaos. That my mom and dad and brother understand me exactly as I am.

That's about it right now.