No one could take care of me the way my own mother did, and I didn’t even consider my mother-in-law for that role. She treated me with coldness, and I treated her the same way. We saw each other rarely, more on holidays like New Year’s Eve, but I tried to avoid her birthdays. There are always a million guests, mostly grandmothers, each has its own suffocatingly sweet perfume, and each brags about either her son or son-in-law, and my mother-in-law diplomatically silent.
I refused to go to her sixtieth birthday party, too. I lied to my wife that I did not feel well and had a lot of work, so I would stay home. She was a little offended that the gift will be presented alone, but most importantly, perhaps, that I was also invested in it.
I spent the whole weekend without my wife looking at pictures on her social media and from there I went to my nephews’ social media, who had a lot of fun at Grandma’s birthday party. My mother-in-law herself was radiant, too. The video captured the moment of our gift of pretty gold-plated earrings, and the woman was ecstatic. In the video, she yelled out to her daughter to say hello to me. It only helped that I put the phone away and really got on with the work I had piled up.
In the evening my wife returned from the celebration rested and happy. She told me how many guests there were, how they sang “Happy Birthday” together and ate delicious cake. I said I wasn’t the least bit interested, but I enjoyed listening about the celebration. What upset me most and made me feel guilty was a message from my mother-in-law that my wife received an hour later, when everyone had finally broken up. It read: “How is the son-in-law? Is he better now? So sorry he wasn’t there this year. Come over together at least in a couple of days, so that I can give him something to eat. Or I’ll come visit and bring some raspberry jam for his throat. Let him not be sick!”
Maybe I looked at my relationship with my mother-in-law with prejudice, but in reality she cared for me just like a second mother…
