Spinster vs. The Mother in Law

No no no .. My status of Spinster is not being compromised by my going out and getting a mother-in-law... I am, however, getting ready to do battle with a ferocious mother-in-law -- RLF's MIL.  Now, this isn't going to be a post about how all MILs are spat up from the bowels of hell and put here to challenge marriages.  I don't believe that.  Mother-in-Laws that are from the Ninth Circle are not that way because they are Mother-in-Laws -- it is simply because of who they are.  In my experience, a Mother-in-Law who is despised by a son or daughter-in-law is a person who is universally despised anyway.  It's maybe just a little more irksome because this woman came with the 'Until death parts us' package.

I would like to point out that years ago -- before RLF met her husband -- I gave her advice about choosing her mate.  We were watching an old episode of something on television (it was in black and white and I can't remember what show).  Two bachelors were talking about women and one of them said that you always want to get a good look at their mother because it will tell you what the woman will be like when she gets older.  RLF rolled her eyes, "God I hope my boyfriends don't look at my mom and run the other way because of her."  I kept my mouth shut about that, but offered some advice, "The same is true for women choosing a husband, you know."

She rolled her eyes again, "So you look at their fathers?"  I shook my head, "Nope.  You look at their mothers.  How she acts is going to be how she always acts.  While you may think that you can change the man you marry -- you're never going to change his mother and she's always going to be there.  So, if you can't stand the way she acts, you might not want to marry him -- unless she lives more than two hours away."  She nodded in solemn agreement, "That's an excellent point.  It's probably good my mother lives so far away."  My eyes slid sideways to her.  Hopefully she got my point because, as much as her mother drives me crackers, I was talking about a future husband's mother.



Let's just say this ...  She didn't get the point.  Further, she didn't give me a vote.  Upon meeting the woman once wedding plans had commenced, all I could think was, "Thank God I'm not going to have to spend time with her."  If I had been aware of how many gatherings and meetings I would have that would involve her future mother in law, I would have rapidly been considering some other plan for the dear girl.  Making a man in a chemistry lab, for example.

And why is this woman hard to bear?  Lots of reasons.  Let's start with the fact that she's not one of those people that you want to ask, "How are things?"  Because she will tell you.  You will be regaled with the minute details of how she's feeling; who was rude to her since you last saw her; how she can't believe how stupid every other person on the planet is; how she is a perfect wife, mother, and grandmother; how incapable you are; and it will likely end with her in tears as she tells you all about how she doesn't understand why she has no friends when she is nothing but kind or good to others.

Drinking doesn't numb the pain.  I've tried.

The happy couple has been married for more than two years.  I am still getting over the trauma of the events surrounding the planning. showers, rehearsal dinner, and reception.  There are some real doozies involved.  The best one -- or most offensive to me -- was when she sauntered over to me at the wedding reception whilst I leaned against a table slurping the beer that I bought for the wedding (she refused to pay for alcohol at the reception because she and her family do not drink ... uhm, that's kind of the Groom's Parents' tab, but whatever).  I had been doing a great job as the "Spinster of Honor" and keeping her away from the Bride lest she express one of her insane opinions and ruin the day.  She must have thought that meant we were friends.

She held her chin high and looked at the people dancing, "I'm going to need to take a vacation.  I just don't have the energy to be out there dancing like you and your sister."  I brought the plastic cup to my lips and waited for it.  She then nudged my shoulder and grinned at me in a conspiratorial manner, "But of course, you two would have that energy since you've done nothing for the wedding and I've done everything."  The beer didn't come shooting out of my nose.  I stared straight ahead at RLF as she danced -- looking like a beautiful drunken white meringue fairy.  She was pretty drunk.  If I went over and told her what her new mother in law had just said, she just might have enough liquid courage to tell her off.

Then the 'honor' part of the 'Spinster of Honor' title kicked in.  I pushed myself away from the table, downed the last of my beer and weaved back toward the bar where the two lesbian bartenders were giving me the mixed drinks for free when I would lean forward and let them look down my dress.  I had felt this a more productive course of action instead of listing off all of the things I'd actually purchased for the wedding (and that could be an essay since my sister was a total cheapskate), the endless hours looking at crap on the internet, and the endless hours listening to the Bride-to-Be crying on the phone -- usually because of something the future mother-in-law has said or done.

As much as I blame my niece for making a poor choice in mother-in-law, I understand her viewpoint.  Like me, she is one of those people who insists on trying to find the good in people.  It's like a challenge -- especially when the person in particular is so sour.  It's not possible for someone to be such a Negative Nancy all the time, is it?  No it's not!  Then, when that person does do something thoughtful, we feel justified for hanging in there and waiting for the moment.  Usually it's about five minutes later when the person craps on us again and we're reminded why we were avoiding them.

So... When Bubby was born, I was sure that the Mother-in-Law would be better.  I mean, how could she not be more positive and light hearted with a new life in our midst?  How could she not be overwhelmed with the newness and innocence of it all?  Kinda sorta.  Mainly, his existence is proof of her and her son's physical beauty and intellectual superiority.  Her family's DNA has shown it's superiority by subjugating any traits that RLF might have brought to the mix.  I'm going to say it:  Horseshit.  When I walked into the hospital room when he was less than 24 hours old and first looked at him, I gasped, "Holy cow!  That's you when you were born!"  My niece threw her arms around my neck and sobbed, "Oh THANK you!  All she can talk about is how much he looks like her son and I thought I was going crazy or being rude because I was thinking he looked like me."  He does -- and we have the photos to prove it!

You know what?  I think she knows it, too.  Her son is funny looking.  Her proof of "How MUCH he looks like our side of the family"?  His eyebrows look just like his cousin Aidan's.  I stared hard at his little face when she said that, looking for his eyebrows.  I cocked my head from one side to the other trying to find his eyebrows.  He has like five tiny, very fair strands above each eye.  If you look hard.  I looked up at her, "So he has baby eyebrows like every other baby.  Since Aidan was a baby and also had baby eyebrows, that means they look exactly the same."

I watched her fingernails dig into her palms and her cheeks got a little red, "He looks like all of my children."  I cooed as I looked into his face, "You look just like your mommy did."

I was able to bite my tongue through the wedding junk.  This little guy raises the stakes to a whole other level.  She may be 'Grandma', but I'm 'Super Great Spinster Auntie'!  She stole the engagement party from me, then the bridal shower, then the after wedding breakfast, and even the baby shower.  It is time to plant my flag and take away the First Birthday Party.  If his mother wants home made Bubble Guppie decorations, she shall have them.  I will make dozens of whoopie pies and cookies.  I have been digging deep for those casserole recipes of RLF's and my heritage.

And this will all be hosted in the party room of a bar.

Grandma isn't going to know what hit her.