My MIL's reponse when I apologized for missing the shower, a passive-aggressive I-don't-care shoulder shrug that I've seen her use when she actually does care deeply, and "Well, it doesn't matter to me, but you need to call [bride's name] and apologize and take her your gift." Mr. Twinkle said, "What else is she going to say?" Here's what I would have said: "That's OK. Don't worry about it. People make mistakes." But whatever...there's no room for mistakes in MIL's universe...too bad for her she's forced to share her universe with the rest of us incompetents.
I had, of course, already arranged to take the present to the bride-to-be when my MIL issued her bossy and b*tchy directive. Bride-to-be had just come out of an 80-minute deep tissue massage at Elements and didn't seem one bit miffed at my calendar oversight.
I got to see the gorgeous pair of Blahniks, and I heard the story of how she wept when she opened them because she was so surprised. She talked about how moved she was that the hostesses went in to give her something she truly wanted, and how every time she wears them she'll remember how loved she felt when she received the gift. The shoes mean something to her.
According to my calculations, each of the 7 hostesses paid $102, not including tax/shipping for the shoes. I know my MIL would have gladly paid that amount for another gift--a nice kitchen item, perhaps. And that kitchen item would likely have gone unused, since the bride isn't all that interested in cooking. MIL's central tragedy is that she's totally incapable of seeing anyone else's perspective, or understanding that people's desires and motivations may differ from hers. She's generous only when she approves. Even Mr. Twinkle will readily admit that.
So I saw MIL tonight and she was rolling her eyes and hatin' on the shoes as expected. She doesn't even know how much her gift means to the bride, and she never will. And it's her loss. She's joyless.
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