I've known my in-laws almost as long as I've known my wife.
Belle was living at home when I met her. Our third date was New Year's Eve (aggressive, but when you know, you know) and I offered to pick her up.
"You realize this means you'll meet my parents," Belle said.
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| "What do you want? I'm trying to work." |
"Yeah, no problem," I said, not realizing until I was driving to her house that I actually was meeting her parents.
Perhaps it was best I didn't overthink it. Her parents were warm and welcoming, albeit busy preparing for their own New Year's Eve party. During our courtship, I would come over for dinner once a week and slowly became part of the family, eventually joining family vacations and feeling comfortable not feeling like I had to be "on" while around them.
My in-laws are great people and wonderful grandparents, and I'm thankful we have such a good relationship.
Yet nothing could prepare me for when they moved in this spring.
For several years, they had talked about renovating the main level of their house, a project that would require them to move out. We have a bedroom and full bathroom in our basement, and extended an open invitation for them to temporarily relocate. It was all theoretical and way off in the distant future.
Then, earlier this year, they finally found a contractor they liked. Then they had renovation plans drawn up. Then we were figuring out when they would be moving in. Then we were clearing out a shelf in our pantry to accommodate some of their food. Then I was moving my desk from my "office" in the bedroom basement to my bedroom. Then I was helping them unload their cars at our house.
Before they moved in, I mentally prepared by doing a little math. My in-laws said they would be living with us for up to two months. Having watched enough HGTV renovation shows, I immediately added two weeks to their estimate. It's not that I was counting down the days until they left; it was more a way of not even thinking about the calendar during their stay.
Their first morning got off to a rough start. Or, should I say, a "ruff" start thanks to their dog. (Please don't try that Dad Joke at home; I'm a trained professional.) My father-in-law feeding the dog and taking her out for a walk at 6 a.m. woke up all of the kids. Not that the kids were mad; they are crazy about the dog and gave her all the attention she could handle.
The dog turned out to be the most challenging part of my in-laws' stay for me because, most days, I would be home alone with her. She was used to being the center of attention; I was used to getting my work done without trying to figure out why a dog was whimpering by my desk. But, just as we figured out my father-in-law could feed and take out the dog through the basement each morning, the dog and I developed a truce where I would give her an extra piece of kibble and she would sleep quietly while I worked.
As the weeks went on, everyone got into our new routine. The kids loved having their grandparents around, and Belle and I loved having the help so we could more easily be in three places at once with all of our kids' activities. I felt like a stranger in my own home the first few days but then it was business as usual, despite not being able to do my business as usual in the basement bathroom, my in-house hideaway.
Sure, I may not have walked around the house in boxers in the morning or before bed. And I may have scooped fruit out of a container into a small bowl instead of using a toothpick to take directly from the container. And I may have held in roughly 56,000 farts. But it felt good knowing we could be there for family when they needed us.
It also probably helped that the contractor was on schedule and my in-laws were able to move out after about 10 weeks. And, to answer your question: No, we are not getting a dog.
