My in-laws have come and gone on another visit, leaving me to ponder the interesting effect their visits have on me. Months in advance of their scheduled arrival, I'll find myself watching the kids and thinking "Wait till your Grandma sees you!", imagining the pride and interest my MIL will take in their growth and development. I see each new accomplishment and long to share it with other family members who will feel the same sense of wonder I do in these little people who are the glue that bind us all together. Especially since we don't speak that often between visits, so I feel like I save up those moments, enjoying them to myself while imagining the reaction of other doting relatives.
Then they arrive, and I get the chance to point out each new wonderful thing. And mostly it is really nice to watch grandparents and grandchildren together—Charles, in particular, follows "Drama" around like a puppy.
But toward the end of the visit, the wonder of sharing my children with their family begins to pall, and I start to want them back. Pretty normal, I suspect—wanting all my usual hugs and kisses, my usual role in spoiling and disciplining, my established place of importance in their little minds, back. And so the ILs head home, leaving a certain amount of chaos in their week from children who have suddenly gone from the nearly 24-hour-a-day attention of grandparents who are here solely to cater to every childish whim to the ... um, not so constant attention of their parents. Who are not here solely to cater to every childish whim, no matter what my children might think!
In a few months, though, that reaction will have faded, and I'll be right back to "Wait until your Grandma sees you!" Which in the grand scheme of things, is a pretty good place to be.
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