I did not, repeat, DID NOT invite them to stay with us. They invited themselves! They, who live on just their social security check and handouts from their kids, who hung out at our house "visiting" the week my dad was dying in the hospital without so much as a "Can I do anything to help you," have made yet another pilgrimage to LOST WAGES (aka Las Vegas) after conning husband into sending them $250 to cover their gas and a night's lodging for the trip out. (Do I sound bitter? I don't mean to. I'm PI$$ED!!!) And now they've decided they want to stay with us Friday and Saturday after their romp in the desert is done. My dear, thoughtful, easily-manipulated husband informed me of this today. Nevermind that our guest room is a shambles. Nevermind that Saturday easy child has two soccer games, difficult child 2 potentially has one as well, difficult child 1 has a therapist appointment in the morning, PLUS we are having difficult child 2's birthday party that afternoon/evening. I REFUSE to stay up late to get the room ready. I REFUSE to kill myself during the day to get the room ready. They will be lucky if I manage to clear off the beds and make a path from the door. I am NOT cleaning my house for them. I am NOT cooking for them. And if they show up here Friday and difficult child 1's tutor is here, I'm going to ask them to come back later when he's done with his lesson. What little Christmas spirit I had is suddenly drowning in resentment. I hate feeling like this.