The long overdue Mother-In-Law post

Take a deep breath. It’s going to be ok. I haven’t lost my mind. Nor am I planning on villanizing Chad's mom. Without daughters-in-law and mothers-in-law, we’d have little reason for college subjects like Anthropology and Psychology. There’d be no wise sayings like, “It takes all kinds.” There’d be no ‘Everybody Loves Raymond.’ Right?

So, buckle up – here we go.

I guess I need to start with the oldest story – the best story. The story that started it all. The wedding dress story. Chad and I were engaged and I was over at his Aunt’s house. Sande (my mother-in-law), Chad’s aunt, and I were in one of her bedrooms talking and his aunt asked me about my wedding dress. I hadn’t bought it yet but I had some ideas and Chad’s mom said, “You can borrow Dede’s dress. I still have it.” For those of you who aren’t in the know, Dede is Chad’s ex wife.

I’ll wait while you gasp or laugh or to collect your jaw from the floor.

To say I was stunned doesn’t really cover it. I’m a classic overthinker, so I naturally assumed Sande hated me. She then cheerfully offered Dede’s silk flower bouquet, the serving ware they used at the wedding, and a cookbook signed “Merry Christmas, Dede.”

Years went by and I kept these things and others like burrs under my saddle. Burrs that dug in over time and got so under my skin, they became a part of me. I spent ridiculous amounts of time thinking about them from various angles. I pondered, fretted, overthought every word out of her mouth and never considered that I might be spending too much of my energy being the classic, suspiscious daughter-in-law.

Luckily, we mature – even in our 30’s. I now realize that my mother-in-law is almost comically my complete opposite. And she really makes me look kind of hilarious. Here’s my admittedly VERY BASIC reasoning. I’m Metaphysical Mary and she’s Practical Patty.

Objects to Practical Patty are just that, objects. Practical Patty looks at an item and asks one question, “Is it useful?”

Objects to Metaphysical Mary are not JUST objects. They have energy, memories, associations. Metaphysical Mary asks a multitude of questions. “Does it remind me of a good time or a bad time?” “Is it pretty?” “Is it sentimental?” “Does it match my other belongings?” “Does it have a positive energy?” “Is it out of date?” “Did someone I love give this to me?”

Practical Patty will keep an object for an indefinite amount of time if it is useful. Some Practical Patty’s find that even if a thing isn’t currently useful, it might have a future use, and they keep those things, too.

Metaphysical Mary will throw an item out on an emotional whim and later regret it. She might hold onto a completely useless item for sentimental reasons. She might do anything at all based on her current mood. She is by her very nature, impractical.

Metaphysical Mary and Practical Patty have a very large gap in the way they see things. But, as all things that are related to WHO WE ARE, there isn’t a wrong or a right. There’s my way and your way and the gray matter in between. The negotiable space.

I admit, as Metaphysical Mary, there’s little room for negotiation. I’ve had to grow a lot in terms of understanding the wedding dress was not an intentional insult to me. It had a future use. It was an item of large monetary value that had been worn once and was still in good shape. She later gave it to someone who needed it and was very appreciative. I’m humbled by that.

So, to my mother-in-law (if she still reads my blog), I’m sorry it took me so long to make sense of your offer (and all the offers after that I didn’t understand).

To all Metaphysical Mary’s – chill out. Really. Stop overthinking. Maybe people aren’t as passive-aggressive as you think. Maybe they are just practical.

To all Practical Patty’s – maybe a little effort in understanding the Metaphysical Mary in your life… they don’t make a lot of sense, but if they are in your life, they are worth the effort.

It really does take all kinds.

Parenting Patterns

Last night, I started thinking about all the things that have changed about me since having children.

In a movie theater, when a particularly loud moment happens, my natural reaction is to yell at Chad that it's too loud (because it will wake the kids up). An entire two-hour movie isn't enough for this reaction to go away.

Last night, when Chad fell asleep in a particularly loud movie, I completely understood how he could. Napping has become a frightening endeavor at home. You could be settling into a nice REM state only to be pile-driven by a preschooler. So, we sleep less deeply - and look haunted - because there is no safety in sleep. Only terror.

Before I had kids, I looked at parents of loud children in restaurants the same way I look at people who don't know how to merge onto the freeway. As a parent, I look at them with empathy. Last night, when a tiny toddler knocked over a wall of rocks in the hibachi restaurant, I looked at the mother with all the patronizing sympathy I could muster. "I've been there, my soul sister."

I am somehow pathologically driven to rocking when a baby is in the same room as me. I don't have to be holding the baby; I just rock along with the person who is. Rocking, swaying, bouncing...

Before I had children, if I was holding a baby and it started to cry, I practically threw it at its mother. Now, if I'm in a room and a baby starts crying, I practically throw people down to hold it, even if it is being held by its mother.

Let's not even talk about the things that come out of baby (toddler, preschooler) noses and hind quarters. It's not polite. But you know what I mean. Before...no way. Now, just hand me a wipe. No wipes? No problem...I'll improvise. MacGyver has NOTHING on me.

Before having kids, I talked about...uhm. Forget this point. I don't remember what I used to talk about. I don't think it had anything to do with poop, though.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not at all complaining. There's the other side.

Before kids, I didn't laugh all day long.
Before kids, I didn't walk around with a camera waiting for something amazing to happen.
Before kids, I didn't go to bed praying harder for other people than myself.
Before kids, I didn't know how calming it was to hold a baby.
Before kids, I didn't know how strong I really was.
Before kids, I didn't know what it was to be willing to lay your life down for another person.

Before kids, I didn't know the love of God the Father.

I do now.