Being part of a large blended family brings it’s own special kind of joy. No - really…but for every ying, there is a yang, so for all that joy, the universe simply INSISTS on there being a downside. Now I can only assume that we have been ecstatically happy at some point in time (although I have to say, I was obviously otherwise engaged at the time as I seem to have missed it…) because the downside seemed a particularly cruel and unnecessary punishment on this occasion. I will explain… Our children do not seem to have any concept of leaving home as being a "one way" process, they have all left and come home again, at least once. Not only have they gone and come back again, they have bought partners, girlfriends, "husbands to be" and whatnot with them. Over the years we've had boyfriends, girlfriends, fiances, mothers, the offspring of an ex husbands new wife, various extra teenagers that don't belong to us, and friends in some crisis or other needing somewhere to live. This makes for a rich and full life, albiet a busy and noisy one. I have an oven large enough to roast a small child in, regularly cater for 10 to 12 people and the idea of cooking for just two people is a foreign concept.
As much as we love them all dearly, we often talked longingly of a time in the future when we could open the pantry and all our favorite foods were right there - where we left them this morning - can you imagine! We could cook a tiny little dinner for two, and we were the only two people in the house. It seemed as far fetched as winning big Wednesday... and then bingo. The stars, planets and all the moons lined up and the unimaginable happened - we only had one teenager at home. ONE. And given he had a girlfriend AND a car, he was hardly ever home. It was more than we had dared hope for.
Foolishly, we relaxed and started to enjoy it. We got the wild idea in our heads that it was safe to convert a bedroom to an office, purchase the best steak, the smallest bottle of sauce at the supermarket and to wander around the house in our underwear at all hours of the day and night. And then, a cruel blow. Three of our five adult children moved home - all at once.
Not content with simply moving home, they had paired up and in some cases, multiplied, until we had 6 adults, two small and perfectly formed, albiet noisy children and three dogs living in an average sized three bedroom house. It was all downhill from there...
The only time there was any hot water for a shower was when you were halfway through your barely lukewarm shower and one of the wee cherubs flushed the upstairs loo…then, and ONLY then did you get the very last of the hot water, in a scalding blast. Once all flushing was complete, you were left with an icy trickle with which to frantically wash the last of the conditioner out of your hair - that is assuming the shampoo and the conditioner are where you left them yesterday. The “usual” placement and supply of these items, along with toothpaste, dental floss, expensive hair products and the last of the cotton buds or disposable razors, could no longer be certain. And that was just the bathroom.
The kitchen, fridge and pantry were a whole new level of pain, so much so Scott took to hiding items such as Worcestershire Sauce, peanut butter and cheese in the wardrobe. I had to point out that the Worcestershire was not akin to truffle oil and perhaps it didn’t matter if they used it in great swigs, and the wardrobe was NOT a walk in chiller and the cheese could not stay there. He begrudgingly relocated the cheese to the fridge after disguising it with a skull and crossbones logo front and back, but drew the line at returning the Worcestershire sauce or the peanut butter to the pantry.
Now one thing I will say is that my children have grown up with a keen sense of danger (shrill noises and sudden movements too early in the morning taught them not to be fooled by mother’s slightly plump and housewifely appearance – she could move ninja like when riled at this hour of the day) and they knew that to overstay their welcome was akin to taking up freebasing as a hobby in the danger stakes, so they began looking for alternative accommodation the moment they moved in.
The whole situation appeared to be blissfully short lived when they found a place that would be available just three short weeks after moving in. A day was spent moving, the office was repainted, the footwide track through the roof height furniture stack in the garage opened up and we could actually see the floor in there. Peace was restored...for three short weeks.
At which point the siblings had an almighty row and two of them promptly moved back home again. This time, in the wild hope they would make it a short "visit" I have banished them to the garage. The "it's only for a week or so mum" has managed to stretch into almost three months with no end in sight as yet, and Scott has taken to stock piling food in the wardrobe again, so you could say life HAS returned to normal and anything else will feel strange. I must say though, if that's the case, I am quite looking forward to feeling a bit odd, it would be nice to have a garage with a visible floor - and a wardrobe devoid of food - again, only for longer this time, I mean, this Princess can only cope with so much peanut butter in her shoe cabinet and I'm about at my limit.
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