Granny's Coming!

As my husband gave Mackenzie his final tuck-in last night he said cheerily “Go to sleep and then tomorrow Granny’s coming!” Mackenzie’s face split into a beam as my heart sunk.

It’s not that I don’t like my mother in law Amelia, I do, it’s just that she brings the worst out in me. For David, the Golden Boy, it’s an opportunity to swank about a bit (In a nice way, he’s not an arsey man) and for Mackenzie it’s a chance to be spoilt and to sit in a nice lap all day and be fed titbits like a doting Pekinese. All I get are the chores and the extra cooking and cleaning and a feeling of worthlessness. It’s easier with my mum, she’s only ten minutes away so her visits are never Events. Amelia’s visits are Events. Usually lasting a weekend, and accompanied by enough luggage for a month, she manages to make me feel like a naughty schoolgirl. The merest raise of her eyebrows send me and the dogs scurrying to the kitchen. The teeniest utterances sound like she’s passing judgment because she uses Capital Letters. You can hear the Capital Letters as she speaks. When it's accompanied by a raise of an eyebrow, I break out in hives.

So, I’ve got roughly 7 hours to get the house shipshape, do a Sainsbury shop, sort the dogs out and generally prepare myself for a weekend of Comments, servitude and guilt. Wish me luck, I’m going in.