No matter how many times I offer, my MIL will never let me bring a dish to anything. It's because she doesn't want to share credit. If she's coming to my house, however, and I tell her not to bring anything but just her smiling face, she will show up with exactly two assorted dessert trays, ensuring that, no matter how hard I worked on the Barefoot Contessa's brownie pudding recipe (which is between a brownie and a souffle), my dessert and I are forced to share the spotlight.
In my family, it's not about spotlights. People chip in because it's the nice thing to do, and one person's cookies are in no way diminished by someone else's brownies. I wish it were not about spotlights with MIL, but that is the way it is, probably because she runs a cafeteria for 50+ observant and wayward Jews every time a holiday rolls around, and no one else contributes anything, and that's how she wants it. She's used to doing things by herself, and can't stand the idea of a new lunch lady in town--especially when that lunch lady has a touch of the Martha flair that her cafeteria line will never possess. Just sayin'.
So, this time, miraculously, she asked me to help her with her flower arrangements. She asked me Monday night, at one of my SIL's many birthday dinners, and I consented (the flowers were for tonight, Wednesday). She e-mailed me, too, and I responded with an enthusiastic yes. I love doing flowers, and I was proud of her for actually delegating something that she doesn't enjoy. No purple carnations and babies' breath this time, thought I. Boy was I wrong.
Today I called her. She had certain vases she wanted me to use, so I was going to go pick them up, then head to Whole Foods to do a whole fall fruit-and-flower medley like I saw in Southern Living. When I finally reached her--when I was almost at her house--she informed me that she just went ahead and did the flowers herself.
Now, y'all were there with me when I joined the Junyaleague, right? Because, like you, I have spent my entire adult life following through with tasks that Dooner or Lezlie Renee Pipes or some other higher up asked me to do. When a certain someone in YWC says, "Hey, I need 900 postcards for the fashion show, and by the way, I'd like to suggest several changes to your original design. And P.S., would you mind working on a flyer for my Greg Fischer event in your spare time?" I say sure. And then I actually follow through.
So when someone asks me to do some d*mn flower arrangements, and I say I'll do them, she can trust me that those flower arrangements will get done, on time, and look like something out of a magazine. It's just how I roll, OK? It's a good thing I didn't buy the flowers before I talked to her--which I easily, easily could have done. I just can't believe she asked me to do the flowers on Monday, and then did them herself anyway without telling me--like I was going to forget about them or flake out--or, worst of all--actually make something so pretty and full of flair that everyone at the party would have known she couldn't possibly have done them. She cannot delegate, and so she is a long-suffering martyr who complains her way through life--but at least she has that spotlight all to herself.
Reneging on a request for flower arrangements is not without precedent, but at least that other time MIL actually told me she'd changed her mind before I spent my morning tracking her down looking for vases. Someone has issues; this is just more proof.
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