OK, moans about the holiday. Most of them trivial, but bear with me.
1 Time of arrival, advertised as 4.00. I had said we’d drive up in the afternoon. Ewan said they’d let us in early, they were going to arrive in time to have lunch in the restaurant, then move in. We arrived at 1.00, to find they had discovered they couldn’t get in till 4, so weren’t arriving till then. They hadn’t told us, so we had to hang about for three hours, and John was very tired.
2. The fridge, full by the time I got to it, because the baby’s food was the priority. Yes, I know it is, but we have to eat too!
3. Downstairs loo. I used it for John, and was firmly told that they wanted to keep it as the baby changing room! I stuck to my ground on that one. They can manage stairs better than John can. In any case, John’s problem is not contagious!
4. Noise. The TV was on full time, whether anyone was watching or not, usually American programmes. The baby was at the shrieking stage, mum constantly spoke to him in Gujerati, because she wants him to be bilingual. Can you imagine the confusion for John?
5. Now we come to the serious one. I told them on Sunday night what I had discovered about the prognosis for PPA. I needn’t have worried about upsetting them, it was brushed aside as ‘oh well!’
Neither of them took any notice of John, didn’t even speak to him, let alone try to spend time with him. John was very upset on Monday afternoon. He was bored, he hated the noise, and he was fed up with getting no attention. In the end I’d had enough, and said ‘I do wish you’d pay some attention to your father, Ewan. I thought the whole point of this holiday was for you to spend some time together’.
That did it. I was unreasonable, controlling, and wanted everything my own way. He and his brothers had agreed on this, and they’d even talked to my son about it. If I didn’t stop I’d find myself on my own.
I replied that I had never asked any of them for anything, apart from to show their father some attention, and if I was on my own, so be it, I could cope so long as I knew where I stood.
Then John amazed me! I asked him (in front of them) if he thought we should go home. He replied 'Yes. I don't know these people.' I'm not sure that was quite what he meant, but it hit home!
But it hurts!
I don’t care about the holiday, it was probably a bad idea anyway. But I’m upset that they’re ganging upon me (if it’s true!), and particularly if they’ve included my son in their machinations. I’m feeling very paranoid (and even paranoiacs have enemies!)
