INLAWS: PAYBACK IS HELL

Know what job scares the bejeezus outta me? That of becoming a mother-in-law. Judging from what all my friends tell me, it kinda sucks. But, as I seem to recall, being a daughter-in-law ain't all that easy either -- at least, not in the early days. Why do you suppose that is?

Now, don't get me wrong. I had a really good MIL. In fact, I had a great one. She has been a role model for me in many, many ways, but it took me a number of years to fully appreciate just how wonderful she was. Though I hate to admit it, in those early days, I did my fair share of eye-rolling with my sister-in-law, and venting with her on the phone. In fact, I remember a time when I went and locked myself in the bathroom, crawled into a nice hot bubblebath, and cried for an hour straight. Why? Well, I was really, really looking forward to having a full week off from work before our kids got out of school and my mother-in-law arrived for the holidays -- time to whip my house into shape, and finish all of my shopping, wrapping, and cooking. Blessed time all to myself. However, hubby came home from work that day with a couple of surprises. He said the bad news was that he was being called away on business unexpectedly, and wouldn't be back until just before Christmas. The good news was that he'd told his mom to come on in a week early, to keep me company. Poor John had no clue why I suddenly burst into tears. Still doesn't.

To tell you the truth, I'm not even sure myself. After all, she wasn't anything like my own mother. She never just sat there, expecting to be waited on hand and foot. She was always right at my elbow, ready to pitch in and help. And she didn't expect me to keep her entertained either. She was happy to just sit there watching me and the kids. Watching and talking. Talking, talking, talking. I guess that was problem number one. I am an introvert -- a person who thrives on the sound of silence, and on being able to hear my own self think. I can be social when I want to be, but only in small doses, and then it must be followed with a chaser of solitude. That didn't happen when Theda was around. I think she was making up for lost time, after spending so many years in a houseful of men. Plus, my hubby is even more of an introvert than me, so after 10 or 15 minutes of visiting with her, he usually thought of something important that needed doing out in the garage, or came up with a critical reason to run to the hardware store.

Then there was that watching bit -- that "Oh, you do it that way? I've always done it this way" bit. Now that I've gained some maturity, I can look back and see that, to her, all she was doing was sharing helpful information -- trying to make life a bit easier for me by passing along things she had to learn the hard way. To my immature self, however, who was soooo lacking in confidence regarding her cooking, housekeeping, and child-rearing skills, it felt more like she was pointing out every little thing I was doing wrong.

Oh how I rue the times I gossiped about her with my sisters. Will that come back to bite me in the butt, some time in the very near future? Almost certainly. I can only hope that I made it up to her later -- in the years when she needed someone to vent to and a shoulder to cry on, when she desperately needed someone to pitch in and help -- and I pray every day that she knows just how grateful I am to have had her in my life.