Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:I am your SIL’s feral four year old, screaming at the top of my lungs when I’m excited, unhappy, tired, or told to sit down. Rather than being sent to my room to calm down, I’m going to crawl under the dinner table and bite your leg. While my mom laughs and says I’m playing dinosaur.

Poor kid probably has special needs. Regardless, show some compassion for a 4 year old.

We have a similar situation yesterday. The very non-special needs 3 year old was crawling under table and hammered my foot one too many times with a sharp edged block. She tried to stand up under the table and in doing soon caught the side of her head on the pedestal and cut herself severely. We were all relived when she was bundled off to the ER by her nanny.

Nanny to toddler to ER? Not a parent?

No way.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:I am the couch you are sleeping on, as the 30-something, unmarried, childless aunt, since your brother, his wife, and his loud, unruly children have taken over the multiple bedrooms in your parents’ house.

I am the loud, unruly children, with parents who sleep in and then don’t feed us, and instead rely on grandma and the unmarried aunt to do all the child-related stuff all weekend.

I am the hotel reservations made by the 30-something, unmarried, childless aunt, for the next “holiday at home”.

I can see why you are unmarried and childless. You should have been in a hotel this whole time.

You’re ignorant.

Not the quoted app

What an awesome aunt, not even helping a bit and giving parents a break once or twice a year for the holidays. When I was an unmarried aunt, I loved every minute of it and my sister and BIL appreciated that I recognized it was a rare opportunity for them to take a little more time for themselves.

DP. I've never had the chance to be an aunt (SIL and BIL decided against children), but.... some people have really busy lives and need a break themselves. They don't need to spend their vacations babysitting somebody else's kids.

I consider it "payment" for spending the weekend in my home. Don't like it? Get a hotel room.

I hope you are playing along and don’t really personally mean this.

As an aside, as the “poor friend”, I paid my way on many “rich friends” family vacations by babysitting the drug addict brother, bulimic sister, suicidal cousin, demented grandmother, or creepy uncle. The work it entails is never fully acknowledged and in the end the person you are “paying” still feels like they gave you the gift of hospitality rather than you working for it. As a junior in college, I discovered a real work-stay exchange and had an amazing week abroad with well-defined duties and hours, none of which were onerous.

m

Moochers get what they get. You can’t contribute in some way? Stay home.

You never have guests. You only have clients. So sad.

No, sweetie, I host family. And in our family, everyone helps. No one sits around like a Princess who expects endless cooking, cleaning, shopping, and entertaining without so much as bringing a bottle of wine and playing one board game with nieces and nephews.

Anonymous wrote:I'm the dead flat hard pillow on the basement futon you will rest your head on in an attempt to go to sleep tonight. Surprise! I'm really TWO extra flat extra hard extra old pillows!

Anonymous wrote:I am the person you hate. I invite our dear friends over with their young DD who adorably plays with our DD. I prepared everything the day before. I dry brined the turkey and deconstructed it on Tuesday, so it cooked in about 2 ours, rested, and was super moist, and super flavorful, and so was everything else. I talked to spouse's parents briefly (they interrupted their close attention to staring at the walls to speak to us. They had to heat up the stovetop after raking the leaves from the yard that is more important than their granddaughter; my parents are dead). I made a delicious dinner, spouse decorated the table splendidly, and we spent the day and evening laughing with our friends. I found the lack of drama, and the food, to be blissful. I am an ass for reading all of these posts and cringing, for I lived many of these toils and troubles, but they are distant memories. I (and my wife) made choices and we now reap the benefits. I bid you strength to do what you think can't be done, and not put yourself through the hell for the sake of "family."

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:I am your SIL’s feral four year old, screaming at the top of my lungs when I’m excited, unhappy, tired, or told to sit down. Rather than being sent to my room to calm down, I’m going to crawl under the dinner table and bite your leg. While my mom laughs and says I’m playing dinosaur.

Poor kid probably has special needs. Regardless, show some compassion for a 4 year old.

We have a similar situation yesterday. The very non-special needs 3 year old was crawling under table and hammered my foot one too many times with a sharp edged block. She tried to stand up under the table and in doing soon caught the side of her head on the pedestal and cut herself severely. We were all relived when she was bundled off to the ER by her nanny.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:I am your SIL’s feral four year old, screaming at the top of my lungs when I’m excited, unhappy, tired, or told to sit down. Rather than being sent to my room to calm down, I’m going to crawl under the dinner table and bite your leg. While my mom laughs and says I’m playing dinosaur.

Poor kid probably has special needs. Regardless, show some compassion for a 4 year old.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:I’m the puppy who isn’t potty trained that SIL is so excited about bringing to your house for the big dinner.

Say no. Pretty simple.

Anonymous wrote:I’m the puppy who isn’t potty trained that SIL is so excited about bringing to your house for the big dinner.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:I am the couch you are sleeping on, as the 30-something, unmarried, childless aunt, since your brother, his wife, and his loud, unruly children have taken over the multiple bedrooms in your parents’ house.

I am the loud, unruly children, with parents who sleep in and then don’t feed us, and instead rely on grandma and the unmarried aunt to do all the child-related stuff all weekend.

I am the hotel reservations made by the 30-something, unmarried, childless aunt, for the next “holiday at home”.

I can see why you are unmarried and childless. You should have been in a hotel this whole time.

You’re ignorant.

Not the quoted app

What an awesome aunt, not even helping a bit and giving parents a break once or twice a year for the holidays. When I was an unmarried aunt, I loved every minute of it and my sister and BIL appreciated that I recognized it was a rare opportunity for them to take a little more time for themselves.

DP. I've never had the chance to be an aunt (SIL and BIL decided against children), but.... some people have really busy lives and need a break themselves. They don't need to spend their vacations babysitting somebody else's kids.

I consider it "payment" for spending the weekend in my home. Don't like it? Get a hotel room.

I hope you are playing along and don’t really personally mean this.

As an aside, as the “poor friend”, I paid my way on many “rich friends” family vacations by babysitting the drug addict brother, bulimic sister, suicidal cousin, demented grandmother, or creepy uncle. The work it entails is never fully acknowledged and in the end the person you are “paying” still feels like they gave you the gift of hospitality rather than you working for it. As a junior in college, I discovered a real work-stay exchange and had an amazing week abroad with well-defined duties and hours, none of which were onerous.

m

Moochers get what they get. You can’t contribute in some way? Stay home.

You never have guests. You only have clients. So sad.

No, sweetie, I host family. And in our family, everyone helps. No one sits around like a Princess who expects endless cooking, cleaning, shopping, and entertaining without so much as bringing a bottle of wine and playing one board game with nieces and nephews.