I was still healing from a C-section when my entitled sister-in-law turned my home into her personal hotel and drained the money I'd saved for my baby. I stayed quiet longer than I should have, but by the time I drove her to the airport, I had already made sure the last surprise was mine.
By the third day after my C-section, I could do almost everything one-handed.
I could warm a bottle while balancing my newborn, Spencer, against my shoulder. I could slide the laundry basket down the hallway with my foot.
But what I couldn't do was explain to my sister-in-law why showing up unannounced with three children, two suitcases each, and a husband already complaining was maybe not ideal.
"Oh good, you're home," Becca said when I opened the door.
She swept past me like she owned the place. Her husband, Matthew, followed behind her with their kids, Liam, Jonah, and Jessie.
I could do almost everything one-handed.
"We'll stay here," she called. "Hotels are ridiculous this time of year."
My husband, Thomas, came out of the kitchen, a burp cloth over his shoulder. "Becca? What are you doing here?"
"Easter weekend," she said brightly. "Surprise, brother."
Thomas looked at me first. He always did when his family became a problem.
"It's just for a couple of days," Becca said.
Behind her, Matthew dropped a duffel bag in my hallway and said, "Do you have coffee that isn't flavored, Talia? I can't do vanilla."
Instead, because being polite had been ruining my life in little ways for years, I said, "I'll clear the guest room."
