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Dear readers: In December I always repeat a favorite column, and this is this year’s. It was originally published on November 18, 2021.
I thought about writing a guide on how to be a good mother-in-law, but honestly it can be summed up in two words: ‘Shut. Upwards.”
My old motto, which unfortunately I have not adhered to faithfully, has always been: ‘A closed mouth gathers no feet.’ As anyone who has been reading my column for a while might suspect, leaving an opinion unsaid is not my forte.
But I really do my best with my two daughters-in-law, who are truly the daughters I never had and whose good opinions are my top priority. Having been a daughter-in-law twice myself, I swore I would be a dream mother-in-law. A friend of mine insists this is an oxymoron. But then this is a woman whose bedroom has a throw pillow embroidered with “The only good in-laws are a dead in-law.” A bit harsh, I think.
I learned a lot from both of my mothers-in-law.
My first mother-in-law only referred to me in the third person, even when I was there, and preferably without conjunctions, as in ‘Ask the shiksa she wants dessert.” These in-laws escaped Russia in the dead of night with their clothes on, and endured incredible hardships in their new country, all so that their son the doctor, their phoenix who rose from the ashes of immigrants, could marry me? So is not part of the plan.
Ironically, as time passes (and raising two sons), I have tremendous empathy for her position. Now that I have grown sons, I know I would be devastated if either of them married someone I truly thought was wrong for him, regardless of the reason. I wish she were alive today so I could tell her. (She’d probably still tell me to drop dead, but I’d feel better about saying it.)
My second mother-in-law (Olof’s mother) actually liked me. And I adored her. My own mother died when I was 25, so Olof’s mother was really a second mother to me. Although she adores her son’s first wife, I think she wishes Olof and I had gotten married the first time. (That includes my former in-laws.)
The only thing I told both of my daughters-in-law from the beginning was that I was trying to get to know their tastes so that if I gave them a gift they didn’t like, they had to say so. As a warning, I told the story of a friend who, as a new bride, politely gushed over a hideous china plate. tchotchke her mother-in-law gave her. She received a new one for every birthday and Christmas for the past 34 years. Two years ago, her mother-in-law surprised her with a display case for them.
Honestly, I push myself to stay on my daughters-in-law’s good side, and luckily they are such lovely people that they make it easy for me. But every now and then, despite my best efforts, I’ve messed up. Once when my young grandchildren were visiting, I thought it would be really fun to take a bunch of cheap hot dog buns on sale to our favorite sunset spot to feed the seagulls. The sun was setting around 5:00 then, so it was right before dinner. My daughters-in-law are not food fanatics, but they reasonably prefer to maximize the nutritional value of whatever they feed their children. So as you might guess, not much white bread.
But as soon as we got to the sunset spot and each kid had a bag of hot dog buns in hand, they started eating them instead of tearing off pieces for the birds. It was like, “Wow! You don’t even have to chew this stuff! It looks nothing like the 12-grit cement blocks Mom feeds us!”
My mother quickly confiscated the rolls and gave them pieces to toss, but these went in the mouth just as quickly, despite admonitions to the contrary. I saw my daughter-in-law’s jaw clench. This well-intentioned cheerful activity quickly increased. It was such a good idea! What a complete failure!
Of course, the kids were way too full of nutritionally bankrupt processed flour products to eat for dinner. My daughter-in-law really enjoyed it. But in my mind I was afraid I would become fodder for her next dinner party.
Sadly, I know women who really don’t like their daughters-in-law and have even committed the ultimate mother-in-law act of aggression: sending the grandchildren’s drum sets for Christmas.
I will remain phenomenally grateful that I ended up with the daughters-in-law the way I did. But next time whole wheat rolls. After dinner.
Inga’s lighthearted approach to life appears regularly in La Jolla Light. Reach her at inga47@san.rr.com.
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