My people

My mother and sister and nephew and nieces are coming to stay with us next week. I've been looking forward to their visit all summer and was worried it wouldn't happen, what with my grandfather sort of but not really on his deathbed and all. But they bought their tickets last week and I was getting excited until a disturbing thought set up shop in my brain. "What could be more high maintenance than a visit from my mother and my sister and my sister's three kids?" I asked AR. Her answer was even more disturbing: "A visit from your mother, whose foot is broken, and your sister and your sister's three kids."

Here's the thing: My mother, who is funny and smart and one of my favorite people on the planet, comes with a lot of baggage. I'm talking literal and figurative baggage, even without the broken foot.

My mom likes stuff. She likes to be surrounded by stuff at all times. When she comes to visit, she brings a lot of stuff with her, and when she gets here, we have to go out and buy more stuff, and when she leaves, she trails some of her stuff behind, so we're left with random bits of plastic treasure, bargain books she's sure someone will want at some point so she'd better get five, heads of iceberg lettuce wrapped in paper towel, and lots and lots of pillows. I think she needed five pillows the last time she was here, but I suspect the broken foot will need one or three of its own, so we're off to Bed, Bath & Beyond again.

Also, while I love and respect my mom, I can't help but roll my eyes in a particularly bratty fashion when she says things like "I need a jigabite memory card." And while I'm sure that in some part of her brain she's aware that I'm a capable and responsible adult, she can't help pointing out a dust bunny in the corner and saying "when you sweep a room, you have to remember to close the door and sweep behind it."

I don't really have anything bad to say about my sister, except that she can't understand how I can live without television and paper towels, and I can't get over the fact that she changed her name and wore a veil at her wedding. Also, when we're together, we tend to regress to about 13 or 14 years of age. Fun!

The nephew, 7, and nieces, 5 and 3, are a delight, except when they're sulky or screechy or whiny or nasty or a danger to themselves and others - but that was only the one time really. Also, they're really really loud.

"So what's family without a little agita?" I ask AR, but can't hear me. She's already retreated to her dark, quiet room.