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Mother-In-Law Stories
December 19, 2005
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NOVEMBER 2005
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DECEMBER 2005
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I will have to say a prayer of thanks on Memorial Day that I no longer have to deal with my wacky ex-MIL.  The first year that I was married to my ex he announced that on Saturday we would be going to his late dad's grave to lay down flowers, and that the whole family was going.  I knew that his father was buried about 4 hours away, in another state.  In my family we also had the custom of putting flowers on the graves on Memorial Day, and it didn't seem too strange to me.  I had been to cemeteries before.  DH and I hadn't been married for too long, and I was about 6 months pregnant at the time.  The day before we were to go, MIL called and asked if I had flowers for the grave.  I said, "Yes," and explained that I had just returned from my mother's and I'd picked a whole lot of peonies, irises, and other fresh flowers from her garden.  I had them in jars with water to take with me. "OH NO!" she exclaimed, "FIL doesn't like fresh flowers."  Her husband had, at this point, been dead for two years, but she was still keeping the dream alive.  Well, excuse me, that is how we always did that.  She said that he only liked PLASTIC flowers, and since she knew that I wouldn't know how things were done, she'd bought extras.  The morning of the pilgrimage came, and we got ready to go.  I had my pillow with me (it was early morning and I was facing 3-4 hours in the car, so I figured that I'd nap a bit) and I had my saltines with me for car/morning sickness.  I wore my best maternity pants and top, and nice, white sandals.  After all, DH had said that we would stop at his aunt's afterward, as she lived near where his dad's grave was.  I had never met the aunt and wanted to put my best foot forward.  We got into the car and he took off in the WRONG DIRECTION.  It hadn't seemed important enough to share the plans with me till that moment.  But, without consulting me, it had been all arranged that his older brother, BIL's wimp wife, and their DS were riding with us.  We got to their house to pick them up, and it was announced that I was sitting in the back seat (I get car sick much easier that way, and, of course, I was still a bit extra queasy from the pregnancy).  BIL was 6'5" tall, so the seat in front of me was shoved back clear to my knees.  Forget any sort of little cozy nap in the car.  The 4 year old DS of the BIL and SIL spent the trip down running toy cars over my stomach, ate all my saltines (or at least crumbled them all up and threw them around our car), and said fun things like, "Boy, SHE'S FAT," and other rude things, all of which were greeted by his parents as if he had just cured cancer.  Then, we got to the area where the grave was.  It turns out that it was a family plot up in the hills, and we had to walk through a creek and up a mountain.  The other, younger BIL (who was the only nice one) spoke up for me when I said that I couldn't possibly walk through that creek in my dress shoes, and drove me through the creek.  MIL yelled at me because I was "dressed up" (well, if they'd TOLD me what to expect!!!!).  It was a mud covered mountain (and I am actually phobic about mud - I know, that's a little wacky, itself, I admit it).  MIL told me that I was a wimp for not wanting to climb up the mountain, so up we went.  It was a hard climb and the mud was all over my shoes.  I was holding onto trees to keep from sliding down.  DH did NOTHING to assist me.  But, again, younger BIL helped me.  Older creep BIL and my DH were of no use whatsoever, and got a big laugh out of my wimpy ways.  Once we got to the top of the mountain where the grave was (it was sort of like that grave scene in "Coal Miner's Daughter", and it was only about 50 miles from where that took place), about an hour was spent by the entire family clearing brush, mowing and removing faded plastic flowers from the prior visit.  Then, the grave was redecorated and they all had a few words with "Dad".  I was actually introduced and they all glared at me so that I had to say something.  Somehow I didn't giggle, and I said, "Happy to meet you."  On the way down the mountain MIL said that her DH had really liked meeting me.  Then, we went to the aunt's house and I was astonished to see that she had a very large framed photo of DH's father that was taken while he was IN HIS COFFIN over her sofa (complete with a special light over it).  I commented later to my DH that I had never seen anything like that and he said, "Really?  We all have copies."  He showed me that, sure enough, he had a copy of it in his wallet.  When the youngest SIL got married a year or so later, MIL ran to the girl who caught the bouquet and snatched it away from her.  She plucked out one flower, handed that to her, and kept the bouquet.  She then got in the car at 9:00 at night and drove down to that mountain, in FEBRUARY.  She climbed up that mountain to "give him" that bouquet so that "he'd feel like he'uz a part uv it all."  That was 30 years ago, and my poor DS says that it still goes on.  Every year my ex-DH calls our son up and argues with him that he should go "pay respects to grandpa".  My DS went once after he was married, just so that his new DW could see that I really did tell the truth about it all.

        Signed - Deliver Me From Deliverance
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