An Open
Letter to My Mother-in-Law
Penny Lane
I have known you for about 14
years now and I have to say I may have had only about 3 decent conversations
with you (and by conversation I mean
an exchange of words between you and I that lasts for more than 3 minutes).
In that 14-year span, I have
spent some time living with you, or sometimes around you, we could never go too
far from your family or mine.
It was my personal decision to finally
move my family in with you so I could return to work after my youngest boy was
old enough. You guys were retired and I wanted to help with the finances.
You weren’t hovering like a bird
of prey waiting for the next meal, no. You were quiet. Sly. I appreciate that
by the way, in case I fail to mention it this lifetime. It would have been a
very, very unpleasant life for me had you been a loud, meddling monster-in-law.
I don’t hate you. No. But if I
were to be vocal about every idea that we would not agree upon… let’s just say
that if I were to enumerate them, this entire day wouldn’t be long enough for
the story I have to tell.
When you know that we want our
kids to form healthy eating habits, you wake them up with ice cream for
breakfast. You make look very much like a monster when you know I have to say
know to those boys, when you’ve already got them very excited.
You indulge into their mission of
a DAILY hotdog-and-chicken-nugget-diet, accompanied by the ever so famous
instant noodles that we’re all crazy about. It’s fine occasionally of course,
but why do you say yes every day?
Oh, and don’t think that I have
not caught you every single time you’ve snuck in soda for the boys.
You have somehow managed to get
rid of every household help I have tried to get for you ever since we have
moved in to stay with you. You seem to be in love with fish and would cook
nothing but the only food I hate to eat. I eat liver! I eat every bitter
vegetable out there! WHY FISH?
You wouldn’t cook yet you refuse
to eat my cooking. For every meal that I have tried to cook, and I have made
extra special for you (with all the rules you have made up in your head with
your imaginary doctor), you find every petty bit of excuse.
You can’t have soy sauce - SPAGHETTI DOESN’T HAVE SOY SAUCE!
You’re cutting back on salt- I
KNOW WHERE YOU KEEP YOUR STASH OF POTATO CHIPS, LADY!
Your Uric Acid level’s high-
you’ve been eating togue as side dish
on your every meal, it’s been in your diet ever since I met you!
Enough about food!
You know very well that the boys
have a bed time. You know very well that it’s 3 hours before 11PM. What’s up
with that?
You seem to be very tolerant of
clutter, no matter how much of the house the clutter covers- the living room,
the kitchen, the entire house. How can you stand this?
On those days
you clean up, you keep moving my stuff that by the time I find one thing, a
migraine has already started.
I’ve been
teaching them to clean up ever since they were big enough to understand yet I
always come home to a carpet full of Legos! Seriously, how many hours did it
take them to cover the entire living room?
I have just
said NO to gadget time, that had already lasted 4 hours, and they go running to
your room only so I can peek in and fine one son on your phone and the other on
your tablet.
Recently, every
bit of rule that I’ve tried to establish had been broken or had been made void.
I’ve been
hearing “Grandma said yes,” more and
more frequently when I’ve started working the night shift and it has been
breaking my heart.
But I thank you. From the bottom
of my frozen heart, I thank you.
If not for you I would not have
learned that I have patience of this measure and magnitude hiding inside me.
I am proud of myself for the fact
that not even once have I argued with you and shown disrespect. My late
grandmother must be proud.
You have taught me the virtue of
temperance, not just for my growing children who have something new up their
sleeves every day, nor only for your son, my husband, who has his own moments
of childishness, and not just for you.
I have learned that there are
things in this world that we would not agree with, things we would not be able
to change- things that we do not have to adapt to but have to accept.
And through these years, I have
become better than the monster that had always been angry and hateful because
things around me would not improve.
I have accepted you.
Well, you certainly have not
changed. And if I can tolerate you, I can tolerate the world.
Behind all of the craziness I
find in you, including the Catholic radio station that plays in the kitchen 24
hours (not that I have anything against religion), I know you mean well.
And if there nothing else we
would ever find that we have in common, at least we have love –maybe not so
much for each other but definitely love.
We both love your son whom I
love, in sickness and in health blah blah blah.
And we both love my sons who
would forever love you, even if you would maybe try to back me uo and say ‘No’
every once in a while.
Happy Mother’s Day, Ma.
