The Mother-In-Law: 1923 - 2019

She wanted to be a nurse, but she earned a teaching degree to please her mother.
Her gift was helping students with special needs. She didn't choose this gift, it chose her. One student at a time, her classroom became filled with the "problem" children. When there wasn't enough time during school hours to help them all, she began tutoring out of her own home evenings and weekends.

But she never lost her desire to heal the physical body.
When her husband's debilitating disease made itself known, she read everything about it and learned dietary tricks that held it at bay. She identified nutrition deficits in her students that, once addressed, changed their lives in ways no one would have expected.

She would have been a spectacular nurse.
If she had had the time and means to publish the things she learned, she'd have also been famous.

She was generous with her time.
She was generous with her knowledge.
She was smart with her money, and she was generous with that, too.

A few years ago, when she couldn't find an assisted living facility that met her needs, she bought a house and hired a 24/7 nurse.That's right; she made her own personal assisted living facility built for one.

She was far better than my writings ever gave her credit for.


She was The Husband's mother, and she passed away quietly this morning just shy of her 96th birthday.

Good Trade

My friend Richmond was admiring the progress of our basement floor installation when she suddenly pointed to the corner.

She:  Has that piano always been there?
Me:  No.  We got that after the mother-in-law moved out.  We traded her for it.
She:  I think you got the better end of that deal.
Me:  Plus, it's gonna be easier to get that piano out of my basement.

Post-Thanksgiving

Had a nice Thanksgiving with The Husband's family.
The mother-in-law (who chose not to attend but we chose to visit on our way to dinner) was in fine form.

When we arrived, she was visiting with the facility owner.
"Oh, please come back anytime," the mother-in-law said to the owner as she excused herself.  "You are the only one here who can put two sentences together... if you know what I mean."  (She means the staff is stupid.)

That's one.
One gripe, and we've just walked in.

The Husband, in attempt to redirect her hostile intentions, quipped, "No one in our family can string two sentences together, either."
"Well, I haven't seen any of YOU often enough for you TO string two sentences together!"

Aaaaaand two.
A rip on the staff, and a rip on us.
Come on in!  Warm up by the fire!

We stayed for about a hour before moving on to the family feast without her.

Oh, but it doesn't end there, friends!

At the dinner, we find out the niece, who hosted the event, had written to the mother-in-law to invite her to Thanksgiving, and in return, the niece got a 3-page explanation of WHY the mother-in-law most definitely would NOT be attending Thanksgiving dinner that year or ever again. 
Because she had NEVER been comfortable or welcomed at ANY Thanksgiving gathering EVER!
"And let me detail every painful moment I've suffered..." (Okay, I'm paraphrasing there.)  "... for the next three pages even though it's not your fault, but since you asked..."

'k.
Won't happen again, lady.

No problem.
More turkey for us.

Happy Thanksgiving!

For those of you who weren't here when I wrote it four years ago, I kindly invite you to spend Thanksgiving Dinner with the mother-in-law.

I haven't written about the mother-in-law much in recent years.  So, some of you might not be familiar with her lovely quirks.  After being away from her for half a decade, even *I* start to wonder what was SO wrong with her... but a quick visit slaps me back to reality right fast.

While she won't be joining us for dinner this year, we will be stopping in to see her on the way to The Husband's family gathering today.
Believe me, it is a blessing to be able to walk away.
For this, I give thanks.

Amen.

Hindsight

(Warning:  I didn't sleep well and am extra crabby.  So, the mother-in-law rant continues...)

One of the last things she did before we left her apartment was call The Husband a liar.

"I'll be back in 3 months," he told her.
She repied, "No, you won't!" (complete with exclamation point)

But, a mere two postal days later (one day to drop it in the mail, and one day to deliver it) we received her letter that thanked us no less than three times for the visit... and mentioned just as many times how handicapped all the other residents at the home are... which she did while we were there as well.
*sigh*
It just makes for really lame conversation.

But, at least she acknowledged our visit (albeit belatedly) and thanked us for it rather than accuse us of lying about coming back... ever.

I understand that she hasn't got anything else to talk about (unless we want to hear about her health, which she kindly spared us), but time would have been better spent if she'd have let her grandsons talk about their interests, or if she'd have asked them questions instead of interrupting them to talk about herself... and her sad, sad living conditions (which aren't that sad).

I think I'm done complaining about all her complaining now.
Perhaps I'll get some sleep and things will be funny again tomorrow.

How self-centered is she?

(Warning:  Like an alcoholic who'd been dry for years and mistakenly takes one sip, it seems I'm on a full mother-in-law bender this week...)

She's so self-centered that everytime Elder Son tried to read to her a story he had written, she interrupted with an accounting from her own life regarding a story she had written or a story a student of hers (who, by the way, she single-handedly rescued from the edge of the gapping chasm of educational despair) had written.  To these, Elder Son listened patiently then responded with an "Anyway..." and attempted to continue with his own story.

This, in turn, caused her to sigh deeply because nobody listens to her.

When the voices in my head speak out of turn

I didn't mean to say it out loud...

Following our visit to the mother-in-law this weekend (which reminded me again why I needed her to move out of our house after eight years... and honestly, I had forgotten that along with her constant complaining she is also very selfish and self-centered), we were sitting around the table with the husband's sister who had also been to visit the woman recently.

The mother-in-law had been in fine form during both our visit and sister-in-law's visit... focusing on a gripe not letting it go until everyone in the room was satisfactorily as appalled as she was. To the point of repeating the complaint word for word. Several times. 

The Husband was very skillful at changing topics with her.  Every time she revved up a new complaint, he'd immediately talk about something else.

So this is what came up in conversaton at sister-in-law's house.
"She's okay," The Husband began to tell his sister, "if you can get her off..."
"... your property!" I finished.
"... topic. Get her off topic, is what I was going to say."

Oh.

***

P.S.  I don't know why I never noticed it before, but the mother-in-law has never had pictures of family anywhere in her living area.  Not when she lived alone, not when she lived with us, and not where she is now.  Elder Son sent her a photo of himself recently, and it was nowhere to be seen.  But, there were no other "people" photos either.  Not.  One.
What does that mean?  Really, I want to know.

The tradition continues...

Thankgiving is usually the time The Husband's family gets together, and they use the mass gathering to exchange Christmas gifts. We're not supposed to open the presents there; but we take them home to put under the tree.

Historically, the gifts have been... interesting.
And I have learned to take an early peek into the packages to weed out any inappropriate items.

There was no gathering this year.  Most of the siblings were invited to their grown children's homes.  So, we (and when I say "we", I mean The Husband) made our own dinner, and The Husband's youngest sister drove two hours to join us.

She brought The Husband's gift from the mother-in-law.  It wasn't wrapped.

Ready?

It's a double DVD special titled "Wild Women of Wrestling".
Lovely.

The Husband tried to hand it back.  "You should give this to my brother."
"Oh," the sister replied.  "He got one, too."

Choices

Radio legend: Some radio broadcaster years ago, when a listener complained about his programming, said, "There are two knobs on your radio, one that changes the stations and one that turns it off."

Translation: If you don't like what you are hearing, you have many choices. One of those choices is to listen to nothing.

***

The mother-in-law lived with us for eight years.
About the third or fourth year, I started visiting a message board for women who needed help dealing with mothers-in-law. I learned a few things fast.
1) Those women are angry and mean.
2) No matter what, the mother-in-law is always wrong.
3) No matter how bad your mother-in-law is, someone else will one-up you.
4) If you live with your mother-in-law, you are stupid and get exactly what you asked for. So, shut up and go away.

Yeah.
Supportive, that.

One poor woman posted for help dealing with her live-in in-law and they were on her like jackals on a wounded rabbit.
Within minutes, reply posts were flaming.
"How stupid are you?"
"I'd never be stupid enough to let my MIL set foot in my house much less invite her to stay."
"You made your bed, now lie in it."
By the time I read her post, she was surely never coming back. Ever.

Truly, the anger was that acrid.
The attack was simply unbelievable considering these women all came together because they were all hurting in the first place. And for the same reasons.

This is the reply I left:

I applaud you for keeping the commitment you made to your mother-in-law when you agreed to take her in. I am guessing she didn't show her true colors until she had grown more comfortable with you. You are not foolish for taking her in; you are not stupid for not throwing her out.
You and I will someday be free of our mothers-in-law, whether they move out or expire. You and I, when that day comes, will not live with guilt.

And, if the stars are with us and the old bat moves out before she dies, you and I will never have to visit this message board again because you and I would never be stupid enough to allow the mother-in-law back into our home... as so many women here do... nor will you and I travel any distance to visit her... as so many women here do... and if you and I choose to answer the phone when we know it is her, we will pass the phone directly to her son... unlike so many women here.

So. Who is stupid?

You and I made one unfortunate choice.
They make the same bad choices day after day.
I know they do. They come here to complain every time.

***

So.
If you are tired of hearing bad news day in and day out, remember, there are two knobs on your radio...

She got us again.

The last time the mother-in-law moved, she asked if we wanted her mattress. She promised there was nothing wrong with it, that she just needed something "different", and pointed out that it was still wrapped in the plastic in which it had been delivered to her.
Younger Son's mattress needed an upgrade, so we accepted her offer.

It was good.
Boy was happy.

Until it was time to change the sheets.
That's when I flipped the mattress like my momma taught me, remade the bed, and gently patted my boy on the head and gave him a goodnight kiss.

He couldn't sleep.
The mattress was "pokey".

Now, Younger Son is a bit of a complainer. He will whine and moan about the smallest thing once he puts his mind to there being something wrong with it. (On the other hand, he can endure bare feet on hot coals if it's something he wants to have.)
So, we ignored him.

At first.
But finally, he invited me to climb up into his bunk bed and try it out myself.

I'll be dipped.

The springs on the whole side of the mattress are poking through.

Yeah.
I would "just need something different" than that, too.

Well, rather than strip the bed and remake it (have you ever made a bunk bed? I hate this thing! Now I know why my mother never let me have one as a kid), I tossed a sleeping bag up there for extra padding.

Crimeny.
She's a real piece of work.

Living with your mother-in-law means...

... you will be on your first vacation in years and 500 miles away from home when she calls you.

"Where do you keep your spare car key?"
"Why?"
"I want to crack open the windows on the car you left in the driveway, but it's locked."
"Why do you want to crack the windows?"
"Because it's been really hot the last few days, and the car will explode if it gets too hot inside."
That's just crazy, you think to yourself. But what you say is, "The driveway is in the shade half of the day. Besides, the car sits out in an unshaded parking lot most of the week when we take it to work. It hasn't exploded yet."
"Well, if you don't have a spare key, I can just break a window."

***

The mother-in-law moved out three years ago this week.
The healing began immediately; but apparently, the scars still remain.

Random SAHM...

When I was a SAHM (Stay-At-Home Mom), we didn't run out of anything. I refilled the soft soap bottles when they got half empty, bought more toilet paper when I ripped open the last package, and picked up new makeup as soon as the bottom of the case started to peek through the powder.

Now that I'm working, I often hear, "When are you gonna buy more (insert name of anything here)? We haven't had any for three days!"

***

When I was a SAHM, I emptied the trash when it got full. I hung up towels that had fallen down. I put the boys' clean laundry away. I picked up their toys.

Now that I'm working, I often mutter under my breath, "Am I the only person in this house who knows how to hang up a friggin' towel?!?"
And the answer is obviously YES, because I never taught anyone else how to do it.

***

When I was a SAHM, I walked my kids to school in the morning and walked to pick them up afterwards. When they were very small, I got the extra workout of towing them in our little red wagon as well.

Now that I'm working, I drive them to school.
And I walk on a treadmill.

*****

When I was a SAHM, and my kids said they were bored, we'd go do something. Walk to the park, go to the pool, play outside, grocery shop for something fun to eat, dig out crafts or games we hadn't played in weeks...

Now that I'm working, they call me at work during no-school days to whine about how bored they are. And you know what? I really don't feel any sorrow for them. 'Cause, dang it, *I* could find something to do with a day off.
And yes, I start listing chores they could be doing...

***

When I was a SAHM, I'd clean the house after the kids left for school and bask in its tidiness all day long. Fifteen minutes after the children had returned from school and had trashed the place, the husband would come home and say, "We really need to set a cleaning schedule."
I'd tell him, "I have a cleaning schedule. You should have been here fifteen minutes ago."

Now that I'm working, I do a quick once over of the house before I run out the door. When the husband comes home fifteen minutes before the boys do, he says, "Having a job is good for you. You get more done around the house now than you did before!"

Argh!

***
When I was a SAHM, my mother-in-law lived with us.
(ack!)
When I went back to work, she realized she was home alone for most of the day with no one to help her if she fell and broke a hip. And she realized that if something more tragic happened to her, there was a very good chance the first people to find her dead would be our children coming home from school.

So, she moved to an assisted living facility.

That alone makes me happy to be working.

Ack! Make it go away!

Third time's a charm?

Got word this weekend that the mother-in-law moved... again.
This is her third move since leaving our house two years ago. She stayed at the second place for almost four months.

The husband predicts this recent move will be the last one.
Not because it's a good fit.
Not because she's going to kick the bucket.

But because this is her THIRD move.
If she complains, she'll have to admit that the problems she's been encountering might be her.

(Not to mention that two of her five children finally had enough of her spit, and they told her to her face that maybe she should consider taking anti-depressants. Hallelujah!)

(She won't, btw.)

The Definition of Passive Aggressive

Recently, the brother-in-law visited. He brought along several things from the mother-in-law. On a package of play-to-learn software, there was a handwritten note. The husband shuddered, ripped it off, and threw it away without reading it.

Um...

I couldn't help myself. I dug it out of the trash and read it.
"You're right," I told the husband. "You don't want to read this."

Just to prove I haven't been exaggerating stories about her, here's what her note said:

"I got this for the boys last spring for possible summer use but I saw no one coming this way or going that way so it stayed on my shelf. It did no good there. Now the problem is yours - to use or not to use."

Gee.
I don't know whether to thank her or apologize.

Italian Date Night

As the husband and I were enjoying a quiet dinner sans children at an Italian restaurant Friday night, the theme music from The Godfather wafted through the dining area.

Me: Did you know that's actually a love song?

He: No kidding.

Speak Softly Love, it is.

Me: Funny how a beautiful love song can sound so ominous because it was attached to The Godfather... A grisly, sometimes gruesome movie about family. And loyalty. And "don't cross mine".

He: Interesting.

Me: Even more interesting... I'm not sure you remember this, but your mother gave us a music box as a wedding gift or anniversary present a long time ago. The one with the two doves on it and an open bible with a verse about love?

He: Yeah.

Me: I thought it was sweet and beautiful. Such a lovely gift from your mother. So, imagine my surprise when I wound it up... and it played The Godfather Theme.

The husband laughed so loud people looked.
And he hummed the tune all night long.

Bah-ha-ha!

Recent Google hit:

"mother-in-law dementor"

They got this page as an answer.
I had forgotten the comments.

Too funny.

Cursed Tomatoes

She's not dead, but she's haunting me.

The mother-in-law and her cursed tomatoes!

This year, our family rented a plot of land from the county so we could grow a bigger garden than our little in-town backyard allows.
In this plot, we planted watermelons, pumpkins, cucumbers, and squash.
Stuff that takes up space.

Every year, you have first pick at getting the same county plot you had last year.
This was our first year, so we took whatever was available.

Planted our stuff.
Watered our stuff.
Fussed over our stuff.

Today, we went out to tend to our stuff.
And we found a surprise.

Growing along with the things we had chosen to plant... there were... TOMATOES!
At least half a dozen freakin' tomatoes.

Apparently, the previous renters of this plot had planted tomatoes.
And the county had tillered the plants under at the end of last season.

The husband has no desire to pull them.
He sees them as a pleasant gift.

Argh!
There's no escaping the tomatoes!

I hope the vine plants choke them.
And make it look like an accident.

Sunday Night Phone Conversation

Richmond: Did I call in the middle of Desperate Housewives?

Roses: That's okay. It's a rerun. It's the one where we meet Orson's mother. The one that starts out with an innocent greeting card and ends up with the mother-in-law moving in.

Richmond: Oh. That's a bad episode.

Roses: Yeah. I don't wanna see THAT again.


.

The Mail-Order Catalogs

Because the mother-in-law does not go out much (read: never), she does all of her non-grocery shopping by mail-order catalogs. She always gets a pile. Everyday, I'd guess, at least three catalogs show up in the mail box.

This is really good for her because she always has something in the mail. Nothing sadder than an empty mailbox. Plus, she is constantly cutting and pasting (the old fashioned way with scissors and glue, not a mouse) crafts and displays. She did it before she lived here, while she lived here, and now in the facility where she lives. This is good. Good, good, good.

But...
Everyday along with the catalogs, I'd hear how much paper was wasted, how much pollution was generated, how many trees were sacrificed for all these catalogs.
Conservation! Lots of chest thumping!
(You may begin to see a pattern to my issues with laundry and mail-call in my mother-in-law posts.)
She complained over and over how she's tried to get on do-not-mail lists. Oh, the number of cards she's mailed to get these catalogs to stop coming!

Well, hello lady.
You perpetuate this.
Everytime you order something, your name gets sold to at least three others.

Besides, you ENJOY this!

In the months leading up to her departure from our house, she worked hard to get all her mail forwarded.
But the one thing she lamented about the most was how sorry she was that I would inherit her bundle of catalogs every day.

I told her I wasn't worried.
"After they stop getting orders, the catalogs will stop coming. I give it a year."

But she was horrified!
All those catalogs!
Going to waste!

So, for the first two months after she moved out, I kept all the catalogs that came.
By the time we went to visit, the box was heavy.
And I took it with us.

She was horrified, again!
"Oh! I'll never get through all of these!"
"Then just recycle them," I said simply.

Almost immediately, the number of catalogs delivered to our house dropped to nearly nothing.
Those that did come I dumped in the recycle bin.

After all the preaching about conservation and pollution and waste, you and I know she went through that box of catalogs and had each and every one of them forwarded to her new address.

She didn't want to miss a single one.