#11. The last time my MIL came to "visit" we had to kick her out. I am that evil. She was going to come for a week. During the course of the week she was rude and sneaky. We had a nice meal planned and she fixed a plate and headed to the den. We told her that we planned on eating at the table like a family. "That's nice but my show is on." she said over her shoulder as she walked away. We ate at the table alone.
It got to the point where she would stay home all day while we were at work and then leave when she knew we were coming home. She would go shopping and out to eat and not come home until she thought we were in bed. She was avoiding us because she likes her alone time and was just using us as a place to stay. (she had been temporarily staying with her vile mother and so was using us as an out essentially)
On the night before she was supposed to be leaving she told DH she wanted to stay one more day. This happened every night for four more nights. Only saying something to my husband and only in passing on the way to bed. If she had come to us and said, "I'm thinking about staying another week, is that ok?" We would have welcomed her with open arms...but the way she did it was sneaky. If she didn't want to go back to her mother's house she could have just told us and it would have been fine for her to stay with us.
Nice ended Thursday night. He prevented me from throwing her out but I told him I was doing it the next morning. He got up super early and had her out before I got up so he could do it nicely. I still don't regret it.
#12. I don't claim to be a great cook. I can make a few things and I can open cans/boxes with the best of them. However, I am fairly intelligent and have sufficient common knowledge. Apparently my MIL thinks I can not cook at all. Even though her son has consistently put on weight since we have been married. But whatever. She invades my kitchen. Every. Time. She. Visits. Without fail. She tries to "teach" me how to make his favorites and corrects everything I do. If I make something she will tell me that isn't how they do it or she will tell me why my way is wrong.
We decided to make barbecue chicken one night when my MIL was visiting most recently. I usually bake the chicken and when it is done I add the barbecue sauce and cook another 5-10 minutes. As I pull the chicken out of the fridge, she comes in and takes charge. Tells me to put oil in the pan. So I go and put a bit of oil in the pan. She makes noises under her breath and snatches the oil out of my hand. She puts a good inch of oil in the bottom of the large skillet. She breads and Fries the chicken. I imagine she has changed her mind about barbecue chicken. I go along with it.
Then, she decides that since I am such a dunce she should ask me if I know about Salmonella. I reply that yes, I do know about it and how to clean up after chicken. My mother taught me. Apparently this is not the right answer so she starts to teach me about it and how to clean up after chicken. I walked out. That was the closest I have come to tearing into that woman.
Turns out, she breads and Fries her chicken and once it is cooked she puts it in the oven covered in barbecue sauce and bakes it. The breading becomes soggy and I found it quite gross. My husband said she never cooked it that way before (in fact, she didn't cook for him much at all when he was growing up). I've asked quite a few people and no one has ever heard of doing barbecue chicken this way. Of course, maybe they were just being nice.He had to talk to her about taking over the kitchen and how she talks to me. I used to let it go but I just couldn't take it anymore after this episode. Now she doesn't speak to me at all and I quite like it. I'm so over the "pleasing the MIL" phase. She hasn't come back to our house since. I secretly hope she never does. We get along much better when we don't see or hear each other.
#13. Dear MIL,
I thought, since it was your 60th birthday, the least I could do was get you something. Since you are so picky, I figured a picture frame with your five children's names engraved on it would be nice, something you couldn't complain about. I thought about adding our kid's names, your only grandkids, but didn't want to leave our future as-yet-unborn grandchildren. I even left off my name and your other daughter-in-law's name, so you couldn't complain about the three siblings who weren't yet married. So imagine my surprise when we visited you, three months after your birthday, and the picture frame is still wrapped in bubble wrap sitting on the junk pile on the kitchen counter. You didn't want to hang it up because the whole family wasn't listed, you said. You couldn't hang it up because you didn't have any pictures of your five kids all together, you said. (Forget the entire hall of fame in your hallway in which you could have picked any picture.) Son #4 said he'd pick one for you off of your computer, which he proceeded to print ASAP. And now, almost 6 weeks later, on yet another visit, I see it still sits empty, though now on the hutch in the dining room, with the picture laying underneath it. How horribly busy you must be as to not be able to find the time to actually place the picture INSIDE the frame! Next year, maybe I'll just buy myself something nice for putting up with you.
#14. Dear MIL,
Thank you for saying in the presence of your granddaughter that you "just like boys better". Even though she is only two, hopefully, I pray, she cannot yet understand your words. She only sees you once every 3 or 4 months. Of course she is not going to run to you for a big hug, especially after sitting in the car for 7 hours and not getting a nap. You'd think a grandmother could understand that. Maybe if you even tried to get down to her level, or to let her warm up a bit. You don't need to turn your back on her in a huff and comment about how she must not like you. Oh, poor poor Grandma, better milk that sorrow for all that it's worth. Hmm, how about listening to her when she talks to you on the phone, instead of commenting on what someone else's grandSONS are up to these days. How about giving her some time to get used to you, then snuggling up on the couch with her to read a book, like your sainted husband does? I'm glad he loves her - and doesn't act like showing it will kill him. If you ever make her feel unloved or unwanted, I will make your life a living hell. See, now, to me, that would just be as simple as not letting you see her anymore. But maybe that's what you want, after all.
#15. Dear MIL,
I realize that our children, your ONLY grandchildren, will never hold a candle to your niece's children, because you tell us this every time we talk. Let me count the ways:
If only we home schooled our children - forget the fact that they are 2 years old and 4 months old and not yet even old enough for school.
If only I made them matching sailor suits to wear EVERY TIME we left the house so they would be easier to spot in a crowd. Creepy, no?
If only I could simply raise my eyebrows at them to get them to calm down. I don't want my children to be scared of me. When I changed one of the nephew's diapers one time, the poor kid's bottom was black and blue. Do you really need to spank an 11 month old that hard? Does it make it easier in the future then so that you only have to raise your eyebrows and they think about what will happen if they don't sit down and shut up?
If only I didn't get them immunized, because that will cause autism, it's only a matter of time. Yeah, when sainted niece's kids get the bubonic plague or chicken pox or polio, get them some essential oils - that always works.
If only I could see how bad modern medicine is, then we could cancel our health insurance and pay out of pocket to go to a chiropractor, because they are the only doctors that are "good". Hell, if they found a way to cure your one year old great-nephew's gas problems, they must be miracle workers, right?
If only we owned a suburban - or two - because the bigger the vehicle the safer the home-schooled-sailor-suit wearing children would be. Forget the fact that we live in the city, not in the boondocks, and driving a vehicle that size would be a headache and a half to park. Forget the fact that we have only two children, so we don't even need a vehicle that large. Forget that it wouldn't fit in our garage. Forget that we couldn't afford the gas for it.
BUT...if we had a motor home without seatbelts, that would be okay, because you can home school in a motor home. And everyone knows that while home schooling your sailor suit wearing children in a motor home, the laws of physics will keep you safe from car accidents and the like.
I could go on and on, but I digress. I need to go hug my little ones and make up for the love lost from you. Thank God for my own parents - amazing that they could love their own grandchildren in spite of everything listed above!
All my love, DIL
#16. Every day, for the two weeks, while she was visiting us over the Christmas vacation, she would say to me, ÂYouÂre hurting. ArenÂt you?Â as if couldn'tuldnÂt wait for me to be in pain. I think she would revel in the day that she saw me struck down by pain and/or depression as much as she is.
Day 1: ÂNo. IÂm fine.Â
Day 2: ÂIÂm fine. Really.Â
Day 3: ÂIÂm not ÂhurtingÂ.Â
Day 4: ÂIÂm fine.Â
Day 5: ÂIÂm fine.Â
Day 6: ÂI am not ÂhurtingÂ.Â
Day 7: ÂNo.Â
Day 8: ÂNo.Â
Day 9: ÂNo.Â
Day 10: ÂNo.Â
Day 11: ÂNo. I. Am. Fine.Â
Day 12: I ignore her and roll my eyeballs at my husband.
Day 13: ÂNO. IÂm ffffffffffffffffffffffffine.Â
Day 14: ÂWhy do you always say that? Look at my face. This is when IÂm hurting.Â (Make ugly expression of pain.) ÂLook at me now. This is my normal face. My happy and relaxed face. I am NOT HURTING. YouÂll know when I hurting. Believe me!Â
Her: ÂOK. I wonÂt ask you that anymore.Â
Her: ÂOne day when youÂre really hurting youÂll regret that I donÂt ask you anymore. YouÂll have no one that cares about you.Â
Epilogue: Upon further reflection, she may have been right. I was hurting. ItÂs just so painful to have her around that long!
#17. Sunday, we went to Bob Evans for lunch with the inlaws. I was at one end of the table with the Man and the Monkey, and my MIL. Ace was down by his Dad and Queen.
Whenever we order ANYthing at Bob's, the rolls and biscuits are split up and shared.I order the Chicken and Noodles, and it came with two dinner rolls. I knew that I would be sharing with the Man and the Monkey. Biscuits were delivered to the other end of the table. I think they were my MIL's, but my FIL received them for some unknown reason. As soon as Queen saw the biscuits, she immediately asked him if she could have some. He said no. Yes. You read that right. He said no. But wait ... it gets MUCH better.
The Monkey sees my rolls, and I was about ready to start buttering it. Ace then asks me if I could pass the TWO dinner rolls that were in my basket.I thought "hey ... if the selfishness worked for my FIL, it will work for me, right?" Wrong. Dead wrong. No you may not have them. They are mine, I replied. Ace got a little salty. Ok. More than a little. A LOT salty.Fine. Never mind. I just thought that we could ask for more rolls. Never mind. All this time, the Monkey is dipping her hand in my salad, pulling out her selection of lettuce and croutons. So I was a little mad that it was assumed that I would be the one who would share my bread with everyone. Ok. More than a little mad ... a lot mad.
I looked at him and told him that I had people at my end of the table who wanted part of a roll, and that I also had one of them dipping their hand in my salad at that very moment. So my MIL decided to take things into her own hands and offer her solution to Dinner Roll Smackdown 2006, the very last one of the year. Her solution?Passing MY basket of rolls down the table to her son, she stated matter-of-factly "we will BUY more rolls. Just have some."Oh yes she did. Yes. She did.
#18. When I was pregnant with my daughter (my MIL's first grandchild), my MIL went overboard buying gifts and bringing them to our house. About a month before the baby was born, my MIL came and took back all of the gifts to keep at her house. She told me it was her leverage to get us to come visit her. Along the same lines, she buys gifts for birthdays, Christmas, etc. for our daughter, wraps them up, brings them to our house, then takes them back home with her after her grandchild opens them and gets all excited.
#19. My daughter has 2 main problems: eczema and constipation. They are both easily solved: special lotion and laundry detergent for the first, and cutting back on dairy for the second. My MIL is aware of how sever both problems can be if these rules are not followed. However, I picked my daughter up from her house one day and she was eating cheese, drinking milk, and wearing clothes that had been washed in Tide (because my MIL liked the smell of her detergent better).
#20. My MIL confided in me that my husband's father is not the man who raised him his whole life. My husband doesn't even know this and she expects me to carry this secret around.