Dear Carolyn: I have a great relationship with my in-laws and consider myself lucky that they are such kind, lovely people. They proudly have a rustic standard of living — very rural, DIY, hippie lifestyle. I’m down with that — except for the fact that their guesthouse, the only available lodgings for me, my husband and our two small kids, has no running water and no bathroom. My father-in-law never got around to finishing it 20 years ago. For years during our visits (once or twice a year), I have peed in a bucket or jar for my middle-of-the-night needs. The alternative would be going down an external staircase half-asleep and walking about 100 feet to the main house.

I’ve been tolerant — good-humored, even! — of this situation for more than a decade, but it really got to me this year. Maybe it was because the jar was taller than usual and squatting comfortably was impossible. (Yes, you can laugh.) Maybe it was because my daughter burst into tears because her room was “so creepy”: holes in the wall, no baseboards, peeling ceiling tiles and bare lightbulbs. Maybe it was the back catalogue of hazards and inconveniences we’ve navigated there since our kids were born.

My in-laws are not poor; my father-in-law simply does not finish projects, and they hate buying unnecessary things. But why are my kids not worth repairs to their room? Why do we even need to ask for a bathroom?

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My husband wants to tell them that we don’t want to travel 1,000 miles to see them until they put in a bathroom. I don’t want to insert ourselves into any situation involving complicated home repairs, because making sure they happen would fall to my mother-in-law, who does quite enough as it is managing my father-in-law’s entropy.

I would rather simply visit less and give vague explanations. My husband would never try to pin it on me, but a demand for a bathroom would obviously be stemming from me, because he’s a guy and can pee outside more easily. The fact that this is even a conversation makes me feel all kinds of ways. What say you?

— Peeing in a Jar

Peeing in a Jar: Your husband is 100 percent right, if a few years late to that party.

Sure, he can whiz freely off the top of the guesthouse staircase — but his wife and small daughter can’t, so your logic that his bathroom demand “would obviously be stemming from me” is faulty to the point of mystifying. Do you really believe the only valid interest is self-interest?

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Caring about others counts, too, and the needs of our partners and children — or, more broadly, our families of choice — are almost universally understood to be as important as our own, if not more so.

I don’t mean to pile on, but this is important: His caring about his family’s comfort and safety is far more justifiable than “visit less and give vague explanations.” Both presence and truth-telling are forms of respect. Your in-laws may not like the truth, but it’s a kindness compared with being left to wonder why family stopped coming by.

So let him tell his parents the guesthouse won’t do anymore. Once you decided to cut back on visits because of it, it became necessary for them to know.

Your reasons to doubt they’ll ever fix it are solid, and compassionate toward your mother-in-law. And concerning, especially going forward. So prepare to rent an RV for visits or pitch in on the improvements or host every time at your place. Regardless, these tough conversations will find you eventually. Might as well practice them now.

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