If you need me, I'll be in here.
Every year, my larger-than-life family gets together for holidays, just like the rest of the world. I have three brothers and three sisters and their spouses, plus multiple nieces and nephews, which means a gathering with “just us” and it’s thirty to forty people. We used to take turns hosting the gatherings. Used to. As in, we did that previously. Currently? I host them all.
WHY? Am I insane? YES. But that’s beside the point. There’s a good reason for it.
Well, for starters, my house is the only house with a fenced-in yard. And it’s the only house that is Ian-proof. And all of Ian’s stuff is there. And we have padlocks on the doors and the gates and locks on every cabinet in the house. At someone else’s house I’d worry about having to call the police to find him (this has happened) or him getting into spices, soap or (WORSE) oil and dumping it all over the floor to stim in.
Then there’s the fact that when I host it at my house, we can stick to his “schedule” and get him in the tub and in his own bed on time. And he can hide in his room or in his play room or under the covers of our bed and watch Thomas all night if he wants to. If we’re at someone else’s house I worry that he’ll eat THEIR toothpaste, use THEIR toothbrush, overflow THEIR bathtub, spill snacks all over THEIR bed (we’re accustomed to crumbs in our bed,yo) or pee on THEIR floor.
Enjoying his snack in bed during the party
If we take him to someone else’s house, they need to have towels and hot water aplenty. He WILL take a bath. Even if they think he can’t turn it on. He’ll do it fully clothed. Heck, he’ll swim in the toilet. Or the fish tank. Or the dog’s water bowl.
And every holiday, birthday or family gathering, someone says, “But it’s too much work! Wouldn’t you rather just show up and relax?”
And I give them the hairy eyeball.
Because showing up and “relaxing” at someone else’s house means I can’t sit, I cannot have a conversation, I have to follow him around, I have to p0lice what he eats, I have to make sure he doesn’t break/bend/scratch/ruin anything, I have to deal with his meltdowns because he’s freaked out and I have to be hyper vigilant. He’s eight years old and weighs fifty pounds and his rail-thin body can do some damage. Sounds relaxing, no?
So I prefer to have it at our house. Just sayin’.