**the following blog was found by a rescue team at a house in Connecticut.  The blog's author has never been seen or heard from again.  It is best read in the style of the infamous Blair Witch monologue. 

Day 13 and I've finally been broken.  I cannot laugh at the father in law's "go finger yourself" comment again.  Nor am I able to smile when my mother in law tells me I need to put more blankets on the baby and that he really likes the formula (vs. breat milk) she got for him.  I don't think it's funny when I'm asked if we have indoor plumbing for the 50th time. 

I've locked myself inside the office-I can hear them outside but I'm hoping that if I am quiet they will not find me.  I thought I could handle it but I was being naive.  No one could handle two full weeks with their in laws.  Week one consisted primarily of the shot and a beer ritual and sitting on the couch discussing old times.  Week two appeared to be more promising but quickly turned into an exercise in futility.  Want to drive?  You're going to slow-want to ride in the car?  Why aren't you driving.  You are told to make your own food for the night-and then chastised for making the oven smell like fish. 

I escaped for a few measly hours to the glorious city where I watched them blow up giant balloons for the Macy's day parade and enjoyed a few blissful baby free hours while sipping a glass of wine outside of Central Park.  If I'd known then maybe I never would have returned.

Thanksgiving was a mixture of food and guilt.  They served macaroni and gravy (which is really rigatoni and a red sauce) a fabulous turkey, a disappointing sausage stuffing (I'd have liked this had it been called meatloaf vs. stuffing which consists of bread in my world.)  I liked the yams and found the mashed turnip with brown sugar to be disturbing.

We've returned to the couch and I endured yet another day of shots/beers and bleary eyed adults surrounding me.  Also there were some distubing comments form my father in law regarding breast feeding.  I've survived the past few days on a diet of potato chips, squares of left over pumpkin pie, and triscuits topped with stale lunch meat, cheese ends and green olives *gagging and retching*

I'm writing this now in case I don't make it.  Please let other people know-whatever you do-don't go to the in laws for a full two weeks.