For some reasons, maybe because Monkey asked me about it, I feel like telling you about how it was with my now defunct MIL. For the people related to her (Hubby, etc.) who do read my blog, please don’t be offended. I just want to tell my story. You knew her and of our relationship. I’m grateful that in the last few months before her death, her attitude towards me changed completely. We made peace, or rather, she made peace with me. From the moment I’ve met her (over 13 years ago) she didn’t like me. I wasn’t what she hoped for her son. I wasn’t Hungarian. I was French-Canadian. I didn’t have a master, like her son. Those were a few of the things she had told me over the years. I never said anything back. To this day, I don’t know how come I never talked back to her, because it is so not me. I tend to be more “in your face” than “shy away”, but with her, I always kept quiet.
While talking with a friend, our discussion led to how my MIL used to treat me. She was mean and rude and despite my best efforts to ignore her, it did affect me. It hurt. Hubby would say it wasn’t me; she treated all his girlfriends that way. I didn’t give a rat’s ass how she treated his ex; it was currently me!
She was subtle at the beginning. She would do little things. When we were there for dinner, all the women would have a fine porcelain cup for their tea, and I would get a mug. She would offer little wooden jewellery boxes that she painted (she was quite the artist) to all women and would give me two Hershey Kisses. People would notice, but nobody ever said anything. That was just her way with me. It was hard to swallow at times. But I never said anything. I never let my “true nature” surface. I was polite and bit my tongue on more than one occasion. I still have the sores to prove it!
As time went on, she became a little more verbal with me. She would take jabs at me. Each time I’d force myself to think that she was a poor, sad woman who needed help, but deep down it hurt.
I had decided that 1999 was going to be a “clean up” year for me. So, in January I had written her a letter in which I simply said that I accepted her not liking me, but wished for her to respect the fact that I was with her son. Hubby wasn’t happy when I told him I had written his mother. He always thought it was useless. A few days after sending it, we had a serious car accident and she came to pick us up at the impound lot. She barely said anything to me, and very little to Hubby. She only mentioned that letter last Christmas. It had been over seven years since she did receive it.
In April 1999, my father committed suicide. Nobody from Hubby’s family came to pay their respect – not one member. That truly hurt me at the time, and still does when I think of it. I wasn’t a “passing” girlfriend; I had been with him for five years at the time. I must say though, his mother had the decency to send me a sympathy card…
Then we decided to get married. We did everything ourselves, and covered all costs. One evening Hubby went to his parents’ and when he came back I could see that he was upset. His mother had given him a choice: Her or Me. Hubby informed his mother that he was getting married to me. Hubby’s parents didn’t attend our wedding in Hawaii. They had also said that they wouldn’t come to our reception in Montreal, but changed their mind in the end. We were welcoming people in and when his parents came in, his mother looked at me, lifted her nose up and said “mphm” as she walked past me! During the dinner, some guests came to tell me that a lady was crying in the bathroom. I told them not to worry; it was my mother in law. It made for some interesting conversation I’m sure!