Well that was fun.
Actually, it was a rather nice week, just exhausting. My future mother in law has a golden retriever-like desire to please, and the energy to match. The woman never stops moving. Just being in a room with her wears you out. Mom and the FIL (Father In Law, obv) got on fine, and never stopped talking. Not for one minute. The conversation flowed like the Ganges, without repetition, deviation, or hesitation.*
The worst part of the weekend was the drive up, which took twice as long as it normally does thanks to holiday traffic and was a very grumpy and miserable experience for the Pirate, who was driving.
The rest of the weekend went by in a blur of sight-seeing and food. The MIL does not. stop. cooking. Ever. And you're not allowed to finish a meal. She's constantly pushing more food in your face and insisting you eat more. The woman doesn't take 'no' for an answer. We sat at the dining table for 3 meals a day. Breakfast was croissants, fruit, cereal, coffee, tea, toast, yogurt, toast, cereal, jam, eggs, and juice. Lunch was a hot meal, and came with dessert! Then there was tea, which naturally involved cakes. Then there was dinner, which came with another dessert!
We'll be living on steamed veggies and brown rice for the rest of the week.
Oh, and the in-laws STILL don't let Pirate and me sleep in the same room, which sucks. I'll give the mater credit for this much: she orchestrated it so we could have some time alone in the house together, which was really really nice. We seriously needed that. We used the time to play video games (Medieval Total War) and finish the model of Stone Henge I started at Christmas. And to mess my hair up, naturally.
But there were no explosive rows. Only a strained awkwardness when it became apparent during conversation that FIL doesn't believe in global climate change, and believes that if it is happening there's nothing we can do about it so there's no reason for him to give up his Jag and 2 Aston Martins. Tosser.
Now the mater and I are working full time at wedding planning. Finding shoes has become the crisis du jour.
*that's a Radio4 joke. See how sophisticated** I've become?