Question: I have fond memories of summers at the cottage with my family. My sister and I used to run around together, and she was always bringing friends up or inviting over other kids from the lake to have a bonfire. Now that our parents have passed, we share the place, but my sister's outgoing habits have become a problem. We both have kids ourselves now, which the cottage can barely hold. That would be okay if it wasn't for the fact that whenever she's up, she still invites friends, and even acquaintances. She's there almost every weekend, and the once-relaxing and peaceful cottage has turned into a non-stop party hotel. Whenever we go up, my boys inevitably end up camping on the lawn. Am I just being a party-pooper here, or do I need to confront her about this?
Answer: Ahh, the cottage - what a blessing to carry on being close to family into the adult years. And then, sometimes, what an aggravating hassle. We do go to the cottage in part to be with these people who were by fate foisted into our lives, but for reasonable individuals such as yourself, the point is also to get away from people, and quietly devour a novel on the dock as your kids splash around in the water.
But here's the thing about families - no matter how much they physically resemble you and tend to share certain characteristics, there's almost always one member that lives on a higher frequency than the rest. The extroverts, psychologist Carl Jung famously labeled them. Sometimes I like to simply call them an extra pain in the ass. They are constantly yap yap yapping, are surrounded by an ever-growing number of hangers on, and simply cannot stop socializing. In your case, I'm guessing this means not only a loss of quiet time, but having to act the host, providing a constant stream of pleasant conversation, not to mention feeding all these near strangers and cleaning up after the ingrates. I'm sure they're nice enough people, but you get my point.
I consulted Penny Caldwell, longtime editor of Cottage Life magazine, about this dilemma, and she's quick to point out the positive side of second generation cottage overpopulation: "Cousins get to grow up like siblings in a way that extended families often don't these days." And she's right. Obviously, you don't want to put a complete end to these summer reunions, you just need to scale them back. The time of spontaneous cottaging and a more-the-merrier policy is over. It's time to break out the calendar and carve the summer pie into equal pieces.
According to Caldwell, cottage scheduling can become quite a formal affair. "Some families make it like a board meeting," she says. "They meet annually, designate a secretary with whom people put in bids for time, and a treasurer is elected to handle financial issues." I think you can be thankful that things have not yet come to this. I believe your situation can be handled by another of Caldwell's suggestions: "Or, some people talk it out over a pedicure."
Even while being buffed and polished, it's going to feel a bit harsh telling your sister that next time you come up you'd like it for her not to be there, so start by reminiscing over old times, tell her how much you love her, etc., etc. Then, drop a line like this: "I'd like there to be times when it's just our two families, to give us more quality time together without distraction." From there, it's only one more step to suggesting you'd also like private weekends just for you family. Lie and tell her you enjoy the party weekends, and you'd enjoy them even more if you could look forward to them. If you really did enjoy your sister's gregarious ways growing up, I'm sure this will become true.
While you're at it, Caldwell suggests it's time to discuss other ground rules as well: are dogs welcome? when guests come up, can they bring their dogs too? How many kids do you want at the cottage at the same time? Is it okay to leave the milk in the fridge when you leave? If maintenance costs and stocking the fridge are also issues, she suggests putting in place a system where family members pay per diem fee for themselves and their guests that goes into a communal cottage kitty. These are all good suggestions, and when you get back to the cottage, get it all down in writing if possible. A binding agreement, scrawled on the back of a napkin and placed by magnet to the fridge will do.
I know it's not fun to be the cottage beaurecrat, but if you continue to suffer quietly as you currently are, I guarantee the the following will occur. You will get more and more annoyed and never say anything about it. Then, one weekend morning, as you roll out of bed and pad quietly to the kitchen, you'll notice that you can't stand the way your sister says, "Good morning." Next thing you know, you're hanging out on the porch and she asks you where the corkscrew is, and you explode. "How am I supposed to know where the goddamn corkscrew is! Why don't you ask one of your alcoholic friends passed out on the dock!"
Yeah, introverts - that's what Jung called us - are quiet most of the time. But we can become quite nasty if we don't voice our demands every so often. It's not pretty sight. Don't let it happen to you.
Submit your own family feud.