Hoo boy, Christmas shopping. That amazing love-hate activity that makes me feel both joy and immense stress. It’s the time of year when everyone is expected to act all different, because just because we celebrate something on one specific day, it means we have to spend the preceding month both showing goodwill towards our fellow man and ALSO getting stressed about buying stuff.
Okay, that was a bit of a rant. I do love me some Christmas, but I don’t love dealing with Ryan’s in-laws. They’ve got a bit of money, so they can’t see why we’re renting instead of buying and it’s impossible to explain to them why we’re holding off. Oh, but they’re a bit older, so they know EVERYTHING.
Ryan even said something about them getting us (for Christmas!!) a buyers advocate. Melbourne is ripe for home-buying at the moment, says Stephen! Thanks, dad-in-law. That’s not really our problem with the whole thing, but I think by getting us a buyers advocate they’re going to force our hand. Like, ‘here’s a person whose job it is to find you a nice house! Because we think that’s what you need to be happy, even though you’ve repeatedly said otherwise! And it’s Christmas, so it’s not like you’re going to say NO!’
I keep telling Ryan to talk to them, but he’s such a coward when it comes to his mother. A real matriarch, is Marie, and she knows it. I’m not the domineering type, so we don’t butt heads as much as you’d think. Mostly I just roll my eyes behind her back when she comes in and tries to take care of the kids or shoves me out of kitchen, but this time I feel like it really IS time to put my foot down. Refusing a gift is tough, but I hope they don’t take it the wrong way.
The day may come when we search out Melbourne for property advocacy of our own, but not this Christmas. This Christmas, I’ll be happy with some socks. Or maybe a calendar.