Family Quality Time… with the Dragon-in-Law (Send More Coffee!)

I’m officially 24 days (as of publishing this post) away from some family quality time. And by that, I mean my mother-in-law is coming to stay.

Yes. That mother-in-law.

The one who inspired last year’s Dragon-in-Law Landing Game, where some of my lovely (and slightly unhinged) followers sent me random words to slip into conversation with her. You know, for emotional support. Words like Broomstick, raunchy, and bananas.

And somehow, I managed to get a good few of them in without being her filing for divorce by proxy! But this year, I promised myself to be calm. Mature. Centred. The sort of person who lights a candle and says, “We’re all adults now, it’ll be lovely.”

Yes, I'm lying to myself as much as I am you here!

I’m just trying to play it cool. My house, however, already knows what’s coming. You see, I’ve started doing that weird pre-visit behaviour where I deep-clean things no one has ever looked at in the history of time. Yesterday I cleaned behind the washing machine. Behind it.

There’s also a new emergency chocolate stash hidden in the cat food cupboard... Don't judge me - my stretchy jeans can take it! Besides which, it's 'just in case.' In case of what? No one knows. But I’ll be ready.

And because I’m trying to be chill, I’ve downloaded three meditation apps, listened to half of one, and spent the rest of the time muttering “breathe” while scrubbing the skirting boards.

Every day feels like a cross between an emotional bootcamp and a hostage negotiation. I keep telling myself, “It’s only a visit, it's only for two days and then maybe a pop in for a cuppa whilst she's staying with my step-daughter” but the countdown feels like one of those movie montages before the alien lands.

(Insert alien movie sound effects here.)

It's only now I realise how much I envy people who can “go with the flow.” The ones who shrug and say, “Ah well, it’ll be fine.”

Those people are liars.

Or robots.

Or have never had to host family who think choosing not to get a dog when you have no garden and can’t face 6am trudges across the field for a morning pee (the dog, not me) is a reflection of poor character.

Because for me, spending time with family (or at least the extended type) isn’t always the wholesome, cocoa-advert vibe we’re sold. It’s an emotional obstacle course featuring mild judgement, awkward compliments, and conversations that could, and do, start wars.

You know those calm people who keep neutral expressions while their relatives comment on their life choices? Yeah, I’m not one of them - a shock I know! Instead, my face has its own opinions. And it broadcasts them.

So, while my mother-in-law will think I’m 'relaxing', I’ll actually be running an internal dialogue that sounds like:

• "Did she just use my favourite mug?”

• “Don’t rise to it, don’t rise to it…”

• “Oh no, I rose to it.”
  

Jokes aside, I’ve realised it’s not really her that makes me spiral. Well, not just her. It’s what the visit represents.

Every time she comes, I slip into that weird emotional mode where I want to prove that I’m doing OK. That I'm successfully holding this blended family together. That I can manage the chaos, raise decent humans, and run a house that doesn’t smell like cheese strings and despair.

It’s exhausting. That quiet pressure to perform normality. Especially when your version of normal includes half-finished art projects, emotionally charged children, and two cats who treats visitors like unpaid staff. Oh, and she doesn’t know I wrote a book, with a second one mid-draft. So here’s to hoping none of the kids drop me in it!

Yes, there’s something about a visit from the in-law that flicks a switch deep in your nervous system. No matter how old you are, you suddenly feel twelve again, desperate for approval but also ready to scream into a pillow.

And if I’m honest, some of that panic is rooted in a genuine want for things to go well. I want my family to get along. The mother-in-law, my kids, my step kids, the husband and me. But emotional regulation isn’t exactly my party trick, and the line between 'hosting' and 'having a minor breakdown while watching the yorkie puds rise' is thinner than I’d like.

So this year, I’m trying something radical. Honesty.

Instead of pretending to be Zen, I’m accepting my default setting: mild chaos with a side of caffeine. I’ll still clean, still plan, still panic, but I’m not going to pretend it’s effortless.

Because maybe that’s what family quality time really is. Not perfect harmony, but showing up anyway. Knowing it might be messy. Knowing 'someone' will probably comment on my parenting, or how awkward my kids can be, or how I "seem tired.”

(Yes. I am tired. That’s my whole brand.)

So, if you need me, I’ll be making a to-do list that includes:

• Hide the cat hair

• Buy extra coffee

• Practice neutral facial expressions

• Breathe

• Don’t mention broomsticks
  

And when the Dragon-in-Law lands, I’ll try to stay grounded, patient, and possibly drunk on caffeine. But I’ll also try to remember that I’m allowed to feel however I feel.

Anxious.

Messy.

Human.

Because at the end of the day, spending time with family isn’t about being chill. It’s about surviving the visit, finding the humour, and having stories to tell later, ideally over coffee once the house has been safely re-saged.

Wish me luck, friends.

Twenty-four days to go.

And please, for the love of caffeine, send more coffee.

P.S. If this post made you feel just a little bit more human, you can find more of that in my book. Grab a copy over on Amazon, or if you'd prefer a signed edition, just drop me a message.

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 “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”

 Oscar Wilde