Monday, November 29, 2010

Mothers in Law can be like Herpes

I have one.  As many people do.  I think some people have mothers in law kind of like one has a large screen tv or a fancy car.  They're part of your life, but they're a nice part.  Others have mothers in law like one has herpes.  They're kind of intrusive...and rather bothersome, cropping up from time to time.  I have a mother in law that fits the latter description.

So, we went back to the Pacific Northwest for the holidays.  As NONE of Mr. Random's family had yet met little Wiggles...that was a big motivator.  Mr. Random was understandably a bit miffed at his family's lack of concern.  They all would exclaim how excited they were to meet the little guy...but none of them could be put out enough to actually come down to meet him.  Meanwhile, my family had come twice.  Just different strokes I guess.

Anyway, it had also been about 2 years since Mr. Random had been back and so we decided it was time and we'd celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday with a whirlwind tour through the state to visit as much family as possible.  Wiggles was a true champ through this crazy adventure.  And we wound up at Mr. Random's mother's house for the feast day.

And it was incredibly stressful and frustrating.  You see, first, MIL prefers a cold house.  And claims she can't afford to heat her over-sized house anyway.  Which may or may not be true.  But when I say cold, I mean cold.  She prefers to leave the thermostat at 55.  INSIDE the house.  55 degrees FAHRENHEIT.  That is cold folks. And very cold for a little baby from the southwest who previously had experience nothing colder than 60 degrees outside.  I was very worried about this, and said as much to Mr. Random, who is just as exasperated by his mother's antics as I am.  She conceded that she'd keep the house at 65 while we were there.  I was so grateful.  EXCEPT.  When we got there we found that she merely meant she'd do so during the day.  At night was a different story.  Because she had her heat set to TURN OFF at 10pm.  And not turn on again until 6am.  And guess what...the low the nights we were there were 2 degrees F and 12.  Um.  WHAT?  Yeah, we had to put Wiggles in bed with us.  He was FREEZING in his own little bed.  So I didn't sleep well because he wiggles in his sleep too and I worried a little I might crush him anyway.  So I was cranky.

Then...she doesn't wash her hands.  Ever.  Which...well, just grosses me out.  Because she cooks...and I have to eat this food knowing it was prepared by someone who did not wash their hands after using the bathroom. GAG.  Also...great, yes, please hold my baby with your germy, germy hands.  No problem.  Sigh.

But the food thing, gets worse.  Since Wiggles has such a delicate little stomach, my little reflux baby, I am still on a restricted diet.  We'd warned MIL about this and I told her that I might be able to eat more by the time we got there (we warned her a month in advance as she was cooking the feast) but told her dairy would almost certainly be out.  She responded that she couldn't believe dairy could be a problem because SHE ate such a wonderfully varied diet when she breastfed her kids and all of them were fine and the doctor told her it was because she ate such a good variety of things.  Blah blah blah.  Basically...I was a picky eater before and she found it offensive...and I think she thought this was a similar problem with me and my head.  She truly doesn't believe me when I say it effects little Wiggles.  So our first night there she made us "steaks" for dinner.  Steaks that had ham and swiss cheese hidden inside.  Did she warn me?  No.  She brought out the steaks with great flourish telling us how loved they are by this person and that that she made them for.  I cut into it and find the "white stuff" and ask what it is.  She tells me it's swiss cheese with a smile.  SERIOUSLY?  Oh that made me so mad.  She had just finished saying she had such a hard time coming up with a meal to make that I could eat with my restrictions and was so happy when she thought of this one.  What?  The one with SWISS CHEESE in it seemed to fit the no-dairy rule?  Ugh.  If she'd just told me that should couldn't make a meal without dairy, that would have been fine.  Or told me the steaks had cheese, also fine.  Because then I could just get my own food or whatever.  But instead it felt like a total set up.

Then, on our last morning, as we were getting ready to leave, we looked for her to see if she wanted to hold Wiggles for a bit while we packed as it was her last chance and every other place we'd been the people had been basically standing over us waiting for the chance to cuddle the little guy.  She was out shoveling snow.  Ever the martyr.  Whatever, her choice.  But it was kind of infuriating that instead of spending her last hour with her only grandson, she'd rather shovel snow so that she could complain about it later.  And she will.

I can tell you, I NEVER want to take a baby to her house again.  It was just too damn frustrating.  And cold.

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About this Blog

I have a journal. You know, the real kind...paper, bound in a book form...nice leather cover. And I do write in it...every few months. I like it, but somehow I find it hard to keep up regularly. I'm at a computer nearly all the time, so I find it easier to keep up on this blog. So, that's what this blog is for. To help me journal when I'm away from my journal. A place to collect my thoughts before I lose them to the chaos of my mind.

Or see my first post here. That's why I started this blog.