Frequent
Fry HerTM antiquepansies
Age: 31 MIL Age: 65
Frequent
Fry Her TM.
- antiquepansies, 1 of 4 needed/Posted: 24-JUN-06
I think that MIL is jealous of me. She grew up poor, and married
a robot who was too cheap to buy milk for his own children.
MIL worked, and the money she earned was used to feed and clothe herself
and her two sons. All that FIL earned ranching, not much, because
he was not much of a rancher, was his. This was 40 years ago.
This is not my fault. I refuse to feel guilty because MIL raised
a better man than she married. But MIL loves to make comments
that are designed to make me feel guilty, wasteful, or doubtful of
myself. I told her how I was repainting the walls of the dining
room in our new house because I just couldn't stand the white in every
single room of the house. I described how I was painting the
walls to look like parchment paper. She commented, "Won't
that make it too dark in there?" I told her that it is
parchment paper, not brown paper sack, for Pete's sake. Incidentally,
I have gotten nothing but compliments on the walls in the dining room.
Meanwhile, MIL has not painted the walls in her house in 40 years,
possibly because it would first be necessary to excavate through all
the junk in there to even find the walls. At Thanksgiving my
sister and brother were visiting, and we had just bought a beautiful
oak dining set after arguing for several months about why I was not
interested in buying a worn out formica table from a thrift store.
Because MIL wallows in poverty, DH was brought up to believe that
he could only afford things that were old, used up and worn out.
I'm all for saving money, but I prefer to do it by purchasing good,
durable items once, rather than by buying and replacing endless supplies
of junk. Anyhow, we got lots of compliments from family about
our table, and I guess that just ate at MIL. A couple of days
later she invited DH, DD, my sister and brother and me over for supper,
and had to mention that we were eating in the kitchen because they
didn't have a nice dining table. Awkward silence followed.
Umm, the last time I looked they didn't have a dining ROOM.
Why would she say something like that? She's always going on
about "poor pitiful me", and how BIL (aged 36)and FIL never
help her around the house, never pay for any groceries or mow the
lawn, or do any laundry. She also talks about how BIL treats
her so terribly, blaming her for everything, and won't move out.
Seriously, nothing bad that has ever happened to him has ever been
his fault. I assume that she must actually enjoy this, because
she has never once attempted to kick BIL out of the house, and she
has put up with all the garbage for many years. I say, if you're
not willing to do anything to change your situation, don't come crying
to me about it. I don't know anyone who would have put up with
FIL for the last 40 years. The man is a self-centered robot.
I have to say, the only way that any grown child of mine would still
be living at home is if he were so disabled that there was nowhere
else to put him.
Frequent
Fry Her TM.
- antiquepansies, 2 of 4 needed/Posted: 24-JUN-06
DH and I decided to have our wedding in the
fall. It will be outdoors in a beautiful canyon, because the
leaves on the trees are so beautiful that time of year. I consulted
some online resource that estimated when the best fall colors would
be for our area. They were beautiful at that time, too.
Unfortunately, we had to move the wedding back by two weeks because
MIL wanted to attend an annual religious gathering in another state
during the time that we had originally chosen. I was NOT pleased,
to say the least. MIL thought that we should have the wedding
a week or two early instead. I told her that would not be possible,
as a dear friend of mine was being married two weeks before our original
date, and was in our wedding party (not to mention that we very much
wanted to attend their wedding). The week before our chosen
date was my sister and BIL's anniversary, and I wanted their special
day to be theirs. DH wouldn't suggest to her that perhaps she
could miss the religious gathering just this once, seeing as how her
son was getting married and all. So we moved the date back two
weeks. The trees were looking pretty rough, it was cold outside,
and our guests all showed up wearing coats, since DH just couldn't
bear to move the ceremony indoors. DH's father is 85, and can't
walk very much, so getting to the wedding site was a real chore for
him. He barely got there before the start of the ceremony.
Crazy MIL decided that it would be ok for me to just wander over to
where all the guests were so that we could take a "family picture"
with FIL before the ceremony. I told DH that it would just have
to wait, because anybody with half a brain knows that the guests don't
see the bride until the ceremony. I don't think that MIL was
pleased, but at that point I didn't care. I'd already had to
deal with her wearing flip flops with her tacky white garage sale
dress in the earlier pictures, which looked lovely next to DH in the
white tux that I couldn't talk him out of wearing. Ugh!!
Did I mention that my dress was ivory? You can't really tell
who the bride and groom are supposed to be.
Frequent
Fry Her TM.
- antiquepansies, 3 of 4 needed/Posted: 25-JUN-06
My MIL had her kids nearly 40 years ago.
She didn't know anything about babies then, but somehow in the intervening
years she thinks that she has become an expert. My DD loved
to play with her tongue for a couple of months, it was her favorite
toy. MIL thought that this was very strange, and I jokingly
commented, "Maybe she has a salt deficiency." Then
I assured her that actually it's very normal for small babies to play
with their tongues, since it's about the only muscle they have any
control over. But, she took the "salt deficiency"
comment and proceeded to worry over it every time we saw her.
She began to obsess about DD's health from that point on. Then,
she became convinced that DD was a "fat" baby, and that
I was feeding her too much. Maybe she needed some water.
Breastfed babies don't get fat, and they sure don't need water.
I kept telling her that the doctor said that DD was perfectly healthy
and normal, but she wouldn't lay off till she saw a news show that
said that you shouldn't worry about your child being overweight until
they're at least 2. I guess doctors don't know anything.
Then BIL started in about breastfed babies being more likely to become
obese than formula-fed babies, which is exactly the opposite of the
truth. Gee, I wonder where he got that? Certainly not
from any "expert". After I got that straightened out,
the next "worry" was that I was going to spoil DD by picking
her up when she cried. ARRRRGHHH!! You can't spoil a baby
by loving her. Maybe if BIL had been held more as a baby, he
wouldn't have grown up to be a clingy mama's boy who still lives at
home, and doesn't even pay for his own food. Then, I found out
that MIL had called one of DH's cousins to see if she agreed that
I should be giving DD juice in a bottle. Juice has very little
nutritional value, and it's full of sugar. I am a very picky
eater and suffer from a monster sweet tooth, and I don't want DD to
wind up the same way. Fortunately, DH's cousin assured her that
it was completely unnecessary. Apparently, since my own mother
isn't around, I couldn't possibly figure out how to raise my own child,
never mind the staggering number of books and magazine articles I've
read on the subject. It's nice to know that the crazy old bat
has such faith in me. This is the same crazy old bat who stuck
an olive on the end of her finger and tried to get my toothless 6
month old DD to eat it. Fortunately, DH told her to knock it
off before I had to. My sister is doing her best to ensure that
DD's first words are, "Grandma's crazy." Hee Hee.
Frequent
Fry Her TM.
- antiquepansies, 4 of 4 needed/Posted: 25-JUN-06
My MIL made herself a royal PITA during my pregnancy
and delivery. She's a total nuisance with a disposable camera,
and was forever taking unflattering pictures of me while I was pregnant.
She's the sort that would take a picture of your car broken down at
the side of the road (and, yes, she has). She told me horror
stories about being pregnant and giving birth to her sons. When
I thought that I was miscarrying, she felt the need to drive me to
the hospital, but only after we all held hands and said a nice long
tearful prayer (90 miles of gravel road being driven by an old lady
who is afraid to drive an automatic transmission). Needless
to say, I was late for the ultrasound appointment. We live on
a ranch, and our house is about a quarter of a mile from the IL's.
MIL loved to call early in the morning, late at night, and several
times in between for totally unimportant cr@p. I finally told DH that
he needed to tell her to knock it off, or we were going to take the
phone off the hook. I made it clear that I didn't want anyone
but my DH and sister in the room when I delivered my DD. My
labor lasted about 20 hours, and for a lot of it my BIL and a friend
of mine were in the room, too. Initially I didn't mind because
I knew that neither of them was likely to ever have children of their
own, and I figured that it might be nice to let them share in the
experience with us. You wouldn't think that people would have
to be told, though, to leave the room for dilation checks, catheterization,
and administration of the epidural. Sheesh. Who wants
their BIL in the room for that kind of stuff? But I made sure
that the nurses knew that when it was time to start pushing, everybody
but DH and my sister were to leave the room. I assured MIL that
we didn't need her to come to the hospital for the delivery, since
she and FIL are elderly, and hospitals are the best place in the world
to catch diseases. I should have known that she wouldn't be
able to help herself. She's such a whiner that she annoyed my
friends and relatives in the waiting room with stories of her deliveries,
and all of her assorted health problems, etc. BIL was apparently
listening at the delivery room door because as soon as he heard a
baby crying, he ran out to the waiting room to announce that we had
a new baby in the family. Gee, we wouldn't have wanted DH to
have that privilege. MIL had to bust in before the doctor was
even done sewing me up to take a bunch of annoying pictures.
She annoys me at the best of times, and after being without any food
or sleep for 20 hours, you can imagine just how thrilled I was to
see her. If DD ever gets a look at the carnage in those pictures,
she'll never have kids of her own.
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