Family visits - oh no they're here again...

"What time is it?", "When did they say the will get here?", "What's their flight number again? What do you mean they didn't give us the flight number? Why are they so irresponsible?", "Did they call already to let us know they landed?". You would think we were talking about teenagers on their first flight alone somewhere, but you'd be wrong. Dead wrong. We were talking about my parents, who visit every 3-4 months, and have made the trip from Israel to London many many times. More than we have. But they still don't give us their flight number.

Visits. If you've never lived far from your family, you would think I'm crazy, probably that I'm exaggerating, and more than that you will look around you and say - OMG. Thank God I don't have to go through that. And if you have lived far from your family and had to endure them -The Visits, tell me that you haven't uttered those same questions...

They travel light

Pre-visit.
A Visit starts about two months before the actual arrival time. It starts innocently enough with a "You didn't send us the shopping list for this time" I know. It's because it's still two months to go. In this moment in time I really prefer to not acknowledge that you are actually coming. Also, I still haven't manage to finish everything you brought last time. I promise I will "get right on it" and they ignore me and start buying things like crazy. We then move to what will be our main topic of conversation every call - "what do you think the weather will be like? What do you think I should pack?" To which there is only one correct answer - freezing cold. When you live in Israel, the weather in London is always considered winter. 20 degrees Celsius? winter. 18 is getting them to coat level, and below that it's snow-gear. "But what are YOU wearing?" I am wearing a short-sleeved everything because we are in the middle of a heat wave. How would I know what I will be wearing in two months time? "So do you think I need a coat? which one?".
As the weeks inch closer to the arrival date we add the entertainment issue to the mix "What do you have planned for us?" Ahem... Nothing. I learnt my lesson way back in 2008 when I really really tried to plan a family vacation in London. It was a disaster that almost cost us the relationship with my parents. Since then I limit my planning to one event per visit. "do you think Hidai will take days off?" Sure. Because we didn't just finish six weeks of summer holiday, where he took his time off, and his project is going live this month (tfu, tfu, tfu). Of course he can take more time off to spend with his in-laws. In fact, he is looking forward to it. "Will you come shopping with us? We didn't see you enough last time we were there" Sure I will. And so will Yon, whose school year starts on the 16th. And we all know how fun taking a four years old shopping is. No? oops. My bad. So we'll go after the school year starts. All the shopping you can do between nine to twelve pm.
From entertainment we move to communication and transportation - "do you think we have enough credit on the british sim-card to call you when we land?" no. Because last time we checked you only had 8 pounds, so obviously that is not enough to text me from Heathrow with. "can you top us up a little? So we'll have money to call. Just put a fifty there" (I will leave to your imagination my answer to that). "And do you think we have enough money on the Oyster to get to you?" Yes, because you have auto top-up on your Oysters. You can go to the moon and back with them. "And will Hidai come get us from the tube station?" no. because he hates you. It's like every time is the first time.
But I do have to hand it to them, they stopped asking if I can read Hebrew on my British iPhone, because, you know, you didn't buy it in Israel.
And then we add the last topic - the food. "What are you making for us this time?" "You never bake for us" "You still owe me bread pudding / cheese cake / lemon meringue pie". Cheese cake will be bad for your stomach, you don't even like lemon meringue pie and I know I promised bread pudding, but I don't bake when you are here because I spend my time with you... But a few days before they land I give in and bake around four different types of sweets, and then it's "but we are on a diet" "you know we can't eat this kind of food" "why didn't you make me....."

First day at school

The visit.
The visit itself has a rhythm we perfected throughout the years. And it goes like this...
My parents can't start the visit until they unpack. The two suitcases full of food and other necessities they brought from Israel. Kitchen usually looks like a bomb went off in it when they take out more and more things. They are like some sort of supermarket/pharmacy Mary Poppins, and I keep waiting for the time they will have a coat rack in their suitcase. When you think there can't possibly be anything more there, they move to their room and start unpacking the bottomless suitcases, and move to the "we've bought a few bottles of pills with us". So if any one is in need of any kind of medicine known to man, contact me. I'll give you a good price.

Unpacking

No need to buy food for the next year or so. Or at least until the next visit.

From there we move to the electronics hub formerly known as our hall. It was once a nicely organised place for keys and post. Now we can land a spaceship from it, and whatever you do - don't press the red button.
I have to admit, I like my house organised. Very organised. I have married a guy with some OCD tendencies of his own, and raised two very order-minded kids. Seeing my house in this state is killing me, so we gave them our room and we keep the door closed at all times. Out of sight - Out of mind kind of thing.
Having your parents in your house for more than a few hours has an interesting affect - it makes you lose some twenty odd years, and you go back to being 16 again, with your parents "giving advice", "asking inquisitive questions and showing interest in your life", "dispensing helpful hints" and "not at all criticise your life choices, your clothes and the way you raise your kids and run your home".
As entertainment goes my parents are really easy going. As long as you spend every waking minute doing exactly what they want and stop for about ten snack-times. Every visit has to include - three visits to Primark, one to SportsDirect, a purchase of one electronic device, four visits to the 99p shop, a visit to Sainsbury's, and two fights.
We try to spice things up, and sometimes have two fights and one argument.
I'm kidding.
We might have two arguments and one fight.

First visit to Primark - done.

But seriously, my parents are very easy going people, they will be happy to criticise the movies I've prepared, the TV shows I like, and the way I spend my evenings before opening their iPads and going on a Candy-Crush marathon while comparing how much we pay for every thing (how am I supposed to know exactly how much my toothpaste costs?).
And last but not least, how can we forget the "end of visit countdown", where everything is measured in "how many times we'll do it again before we leave". Only 12 more walks to school. Only 2 more visits to Primark. This time next week I'll be at work...
Sure you can understand that, but it starts the moment they land at Heathrow.

Post-visit.
The house is suddenly so quiet when they go. It's too empty. Too quiet. We never say goodbye without the next visit already decided, and it never gets easier to see them go. Not to us and not to them.
Having said that, five minutes after they are gone the room is scrubbed clean, everything is back to being tidy, and we have one month before it all starts again...

That was taken before this post...

*This post was sponsored by my parents, who I love to bits and paid me with half a supermarket. Any reader in Israel who encountered a shortage in food supply - I am sorry!