There's Got To Be A Morning After...

The next day I awoke with a crushing sense of panic. What kind of temporary insanity had I been stricken with to have made such an overture? And is there something I can take for it?

Was I ready for this? Were my kids ready for this? I know my house is not ready. (Whose house is mother-in-law ready without notice?)

It was a stinking hot day - with piddling little on-again-off-again showers that left everything just wet enough that I could not mow my lawn (or mow the 8 inch weeds growing through the cracks in my patio for that matter). I also could not get rid of the hedge trimmings I had left in piles to dry before attempting to bag them. In short, my lawn looked like that of the Addams Family.

The house was clean but certainly not neat thanks to the exuberant return of my my kiddos - and their backpacks, projects, hobbies, library books, and frequent wardrobe changes.

My kitchen had been clean, but as I usually do on the weekends that the kids return, I'd started to prepare the week's meals so that every evening did not take on the appearance of a Chinese Fire Drill. And my kitchen looked, well, lived in.

J. was feeling horrible about all of the latest events (the proximity to his birthday was not helping!) and he wanted the company of those he could count on. He decided to spend the day at my house - not just come for dinner. We would shop for the necessary groceries once he got here. At what hour dinner would actually make it to the table was a wild card. This was good news and bad news.

Good news because there was no specific time for Endora to work around and/or avoid. And the chances that she'd stop to see J. on her way to or from her other party were good. At least for him.

Bad news in that when I called Endora back with the non-specific specifics, it would look like I was trying to avoid inviting her to dinner. And weren't there already enough stories about my appalling lack of manners out there on the Blue Hair gossip circuit?

But I called. And got the same cool reaction. My heart quite frankly, was beating in my chest the entire time, but like every seasoned Human Resources professional whose had tons of conversations they'd rather never have started but needed to complete, I very matter of factly, politely and succinctly delivered the message, checked that I'd been clear, and then said goodbye.

And then began breathing into a paper bag.