Twinkle: Still Free And Loving It

 Well, my inlaws have seen the trees, the wreaths, the garlands…all of it. All my FIL had to say was, “Looks good,” sarcastically to my husband. I’m sorry but my decorations look beautiful. If all someone can say is a sarcastic “Looks good,” that person has a problem. 

I got Covid two days before Christmas, which means that my father couldn’t come over to stay for Christmas, and we couldn’t go to any family or friend parties, and it was generally a bummer. We made the best of it, but it was kind of a dud and I’m already planning next Christmas to make up for it. And yet, on the day after Christmas, before I was even out of quarantine, my in-laws were texting trying to make plans with the kids. There was no message of, “Gosh, I am so sorry this happened and your Christmas plans were forced to change.” No acknowledgement of the loss I felt, missing out on Christmas, or the worry I felt for my father, or the loneliness he felt…just “when can we see the kids?” I graciously said they could go to lunch on the day after Christmas (the ones who were over or didn’t have Covid). That wasn’t enough so they pushed to take the kids to a movie tomorrow, to which I also agreed because I am trying here.

I learned today that we have $600 on our medical flexible spending card, which will be lost if we don’t use it before the end of the year. I immediately made a last-minute appointment for Botox and lip injections. I got the last appointment of the day on the last day of the year, tomorrow at 4:45.

Tonight my husband was talking to the in-laws about the plans for the movie tomorrow. MIL was on speaker, judgmentally asking what I was going to be doing instead of coming to dinner after they go to the movie. If she didn’t come at everything so judgmentally, things could be normal. If she were normal, and accepting, I would 1) want to go over there for dinner, and 2) be able to be honest when I had a genuine conflict. If she were normal, I could and would totally say, “I had one more day to use our flexible spending money, so I made an appointment at the spa.” Most people that I know would say, “That’s awesome. Good for you.” But she would not approve. So why tell her? I could be having dinner with friends, cleaning out my closet, sleeping off the last of the Covid, running errands, or getting lip fillers, and she would not approve of any of these activities if it meant missing dinner over there. So why tell her? The irony is that if she approved and were nice about anything I ever did…maybe I would actually want to come around more. I wasn’t going to dinner over there before my Botox/lip filler plans came up, but now I do have an actual conflict, and that conflict is none of her business.

She invited us all to Frozen the Broadway Musical in January. Before, I would have said we could all go, dreaded it, had lunch with her at the Bristol, wasted a whole Saturday…now I’m like, “the girls would love to go, thank you, but I’m busy that day.” It’s so freeing.

I still feel liberated by the developments this year. I still don’t care that she doesn’t like my tree, and I still don’t feel any guilt over not telling her why I won’t be at dinner. Sometimes I look back at the years, and all the ways she could have accepted me, but chose not to. She always came at it from a place of judgment and disapproval. So I have no guilt or remorse over doing whatever I want, and telling her or not telling her. I am fine knowing that she doesn’t like me, and having her know that I don’t like her, and we both know that we know. I’m not wasting my time trying anymore. I’m finished pretending that it could be or is better. 

Twinkle: My MIL’s Relevance Continues to Decrease

There are times in my husband’s family when I feel like I’ve done something wrong, something that Fun Sink disapproves of. I sort of figure out she disapproves, and I’m left trying to figure out why. Because the things she gets mad about and disapproves of are often totally random things that no one else would even think about. 

Like the family group chat.

When the kids started to get phones and Apple Watches and their own ways to communicate, I started a group chat with the grandparents, my husband, my sister- and brother-in-law, and all the kids who had a device. I think that’s what normal families who love each other might do, and I created this chat back when I was still trying, back before the revelation that nothing I can ever do will get my MIL to like me. I figured we could share funny memes, stay in touch, and on some level I probably thought it would help the family communicate more, which, as you all know, they need to do but refuse to do.

Sometimes my MIL acts really friendly on there. Her new thing is to smile really big and act all friendly in front of the kids and other people. So, occasionally she’ll send a nice message like “Grateful and thankful for our beautiful family!” Other messages will be tinged with guilt or a passive-aggressive slight: “Shabbat Shalom! We miss everyone!” Other times she ignores the messages.

Today is my niece’s birthday, so I sent a birthday cake gif and happy birthday message. My niece replied, thanking me, saying she loves everyone so much, etc. I responded with another friendly message. No one else commented. Then I looked at the last “Happy Hanukkah” message I sent, and no one except one of my kids commented there either. These people are weird.

So…clearly I’ve done something wrong. Does my MIL think the group chat will take the place of a direct phone call to my niece? Because we’ll still FaceTime her. She’s coming to town tomorrow so we’ll all get to celebrate. Does my MIL not like the group chat because I started it and I’m the one who generally shares nice messages on there? Does she not acknowledge it because she doesn’t want it to be a thing, because I’m the one behind it and keeping it going? That’s probably a big part of it. Once again we can’t have nice things because of MIL’s jealousy.

Anyway, I don’t actually care. I am SO LIBERATED this year. I’m letting my Christmas flag fly all over the place. For years they all told me I couldn’t have a wreath. They said wreaths were religious. (I don’t actually think that’s true…wreaths have existed in all cultures for millennia.) Even if they are religious, I. Don’t. Care. Because I am a Christian and my MIL does not get to take that away from me. This year I went to a wreath making class and posted about it and put a YUGE wreath on my door, and I. Do. Not. Care. I love my huge wreath that I made that is too big for my door. Anyone who doesn’t like my wreath is entitled to his or her opinion, but I. Do. Not. Care.

My house looks like Santa’s enchanted workshop, and I LOVE it. Even my husband is into it this year—can you all believe that? He’s enjoying the pretty, sparkly break from world events, so between all the parties and shopping and basketball games and everything else, it’s all about snuggling by the Christmas tree and watching Hallmark movies. If y’all know him, you know what huge progress that is for him. It’s more proof of my ultimate victory over my MIL. I’m enjoying it for what it is, not because it signifies she’s been beaten, but because it’s so nice and fun. She’s just a mean sad villain, lurking in the shadows trying to ruin the fun, but she can’t. I’m still going to send funny memes and nice messages to the group chat, and I’m still going to snuggle with her son by our Christmas tree, and there is absolutely nothing she can do to stop it.

Twinkle: Clearly My MIL Needs Jesus

 

Tonight is the Christmas dinner for the women in my church. A friend from church asked me to make one hundred little candy bags with festive ribbon for each place setting. I just went to where the dinner will be held, at one of the local country clubs, to put the favors at each place setting so that everything would be set up for tonight.

Before doing this, I was thinking about bailing on the dinner itself, because I really want to support Middle and her bracelet venture tonight at the evangelical church. I was debating it while setting the candy bags on all the tables, and then I remembered that going to the evangelical church event would also mean seeing MIL, and then I made the connection about setting the tables.

You all know that, on every holiday, my MIL will invite every woman and girl in the family to come set up the tables, except me. I have asked to be included, and offered to help. I want to be part of helping. There have been a very few times when she gave me assignments, like flower arrangements, and then decided to do it herself instead without telling me. I was thinking about that as I put out the candy bags.

How is it that a bunch of Arab and Serbian grandmothers are nicer to me than my own MIL, even (especially) with my last name being what it is? My friend asked me to make the candy bags, and get them there, and then she let me do it. She didn’t tell me how. She didn’t make different candy bags at the last minute because she figured I wouldn’t do it. She didn’t say, “Never mind about the candy bags. We don’t need them as fancy as you’re going to make them.” (And for the record, they were a normal degree of fancy.) She trusted me. I got them done. She has one less thing to do and I get to feel more invested in the event because I actually helped.

Any time there is a dinner, someone has to get there early and set the tables. It’s such a normal thing to want to help with that I was halfway finished before I realized, “Hey—look at me, helping set the tables before an event.” It’s something I’ve wanted my MIL to let me in on for years, but MIL makes a sport out of keeping me out. The church ladies actually like me, want my help, and trust me. So, I do support Middle’s bracelet efforts, and she knows that. But tonight I’m showing up for the church ladies who have shown me kindness and acceptance.

Twinkle: Exhausting Bracelet Drama

 Sigh.

First of all, I had to see MIL yesterday at drop off for stupid Hebrew School, which I hate, but what can you do? I think learning Hebrew is worthwhile, but they don’t do much learning of Hebrew there, so all the kids in Hebrew School also have to be privately tutored. It’s actually a huge waste of time for everyone, so why don’t we just skip Hebrew School and do the private tutoring? Yesterday was a three-ring circus, as every day after school is. I dropped Youngest and Middle off, and told MIL that I’d be picking up Youngest in a half hour because she had too much homework today, and when I picked up Youngest I’d be also dropping off Eldest, who works there with the little kids. MIL’s reaction was to say, “I can’t keep up with all the players here.” No shit, MIL. That’s why I have asked you repeatedly to let me in on the plans you make with them, so that I can keep up with all the players here, because keeping up with all the players here is literally my only job.

Middle came home from Hebrew School with an envelope carrying $350. These were, presumably, the proceeds from the bracelets MIL has made and sold. Sigh. I have no idea where this money is from, who paid, if we owe anyone bracelets, what people paid for them. I just have $350 cash, which I guess will be a nice Christmas influx of cash on hand, but, as I said before, I really wanted to make the donations in $100 increments because it’s just easier to keep track of that way. 

I went to an event last night with a couple of friends. It was a Jewish philanthropy event at a certain store we all love in Butchertown, where a jewelry designer from Chicago would be speaking. I heard “wine” and “shopping” and was in, and I heard “Jewish jewelry designer” and thought it would definitely be something to make fun of. I was wrong about it because this jewelry was gorgeous. It turns out this girl is an actual diamond cutter with Jewish Moroccan heritage, and it was fine jewelry that was both classic and modern at the same time. I would wear it, and I’m picky. She spoke about her family’s story, her business, and the antisemitism she has faced since Oct. 7.

All that to say…one of Husband’s cousins was at the event. She told me she’d gotten her bracelets and she loves them! They were packaged so beautifully! I had no idea she had ordered bracelets. MIL took the order, made the bracelets, packaged them, and sold them to her. I guess her payment was part of the $350 in cash I received yesterday?

The most infuriating aspect of this is what MIL is taking away from Middle. She’s sending a message that Middle can’t do it herself, that MIL can do it bigger and better. Husband thought it was sufficient to say to MIL, “You know the bracelets are $5, right?” And “Middle has a certain way she wants the bracelets to look.” MIL has trained him (and his sister, and everyone) to talk to her, and to dance around any issue that might upset her. I do believe she thinks she is helping. If we said, “Please back off and let Middle lead this,” no matter how nicely, she would hear, “Stop helping.”

I have no idea what to do. Husband won’t talk to her and can’t do it effectively when he tries. I make it worse every time I try to have an interaction like this. I want to stand up for Middle but I don’t want to ruin her relationship with MIL over this. Is there a more difficult and impossible woman on earth? I truly believe God put her in my life to help me work on my patience and mercy, and MIL certainly tests me on those every chance she gets.

Tonight there is some pro-Israel event at an evangelical church. Middle is selling bracelets there, and has worked hard between school, sports, Thanksgiving, and everything else to build up her stock of bracelets. What are the odds MIL shows up with hundreds of bracelets that she made herself? I have a dinner for church, so I’m not going, but I know how this is going to go down before it even happens.

Twinkle: Charity Bracelets and My MIL’s Inability Not To Take Over Everything Anyone Does

Middle child had a very sweet idea in the wake of the Hamas attacks on October 7. She’s making “I love Israel” bracelets out of clay beads, and selling them for $5. We cover the cost of materials, so 100% of the profits are donated to the local JCC Israel Emergency Fund. 

It’s a simple business model: she sells from her stock of bracelets, or makes custom bracelets for people who want them. She keeps track of how much people owe and who has paid. Every time we reach $100, we donate it to the Emergency Fund. It’s simple and sweet and Middle Child is leading it. It’s her thing, and we’re on hand to help make bracelets and make the actual donations in her name to the fund, but it is her project.

Or it was, until my MIL found out about it.

MIL just loves it of course. She has to tell everyone about it, and is taking orders and payments faster than Middle Child can make the bracelets. This complicates matters because, with Fun Sink and Mr. Fun Sink taking payments, suddenly there are all these extra adults involved with the money collection, and it’s gotten really confusing. Before, I would see physical cash, or see that people had Venmoed me, and I could make a simple donation when we got to $100. Now I have no idea who got bracelets, who paid, or where that money is. It’s really confusing, and I want to make sure that every $5 donation actually gets donated. I also would rather make donations in $100 increments so I don’t get stuck with a larger one-time donation, but now I have no idea how much we have taken in, or where the cash is. It was working well when fewer adults were taking money and orders.

A couple of weeks ago, Fun Sink told Middle Child to make a sign and set up a table at some Jewish parent mixer. Fun Sink wanted the sign to say, “$5 or larger donation” (something like that). I didn’t love the wording. People know it’s a donation. They can give more if they want to, but the bracelets are $5. I didn’t say anything about the wording, and the next week there was another mixer. Fun Sink didn’t even ask Middle Child to make the sign. This time, Fun Sink made the sign, and she charged $10 for the bracelets. So…what about all those people who paid $5 for bracelets, and suddenly they’re $10? It makes Middle Child look bad. It makes our family look bad. I have no idea who paid $10 for bracelets, or if anyone did, or how I can refund them now, since I don’t know who bought bracelets and who paid what.

Fun Sink also ordered her own beads—different beads from the ones Middle Child uses—and is making her own bracelets to sell for Middle Child’s charity. It’s obnoxious. It was a sweet little project that we were all handling with ease, until Fun Sink had to come in and take over.

I know she means well. I’m trying to give her grace for wanting to help. If she wants to make her own, different bracelets, we’ve decided not to stop her, because it would be hurtful for us to turn down her help. But the whole thing is so annoying. It would have been better if she had said, “Hey—can you show me your technique and materials for making the bracelets so that I can do it in the style you’ve developed? Maybe you could come over one day and we could do it together.” (If she were nice, this could be fun.) But she can’t collaborate, or let anyone else take ownership of anything. She has to take charge. No wonder her children have issues. 

It feels like Fun Sink just wants it to be about the dollar amount at the end of it, so she can go around bragging that Middle Child raised $50,000 or some other huge amount for the Israel Emergency Fund. I don’t think the final dollar amount is what it’s about. That’s part of it, but it’s also the learning experience of taking ownership of a project, keeping track of orders, making the bracelets, promoting the project in manageable ways that are Middle Child’s own ideas. By taking over, Fun Sink is robbing her of valuable lessons, and I just wish she would stop, back off, and let Middle Child learn something from this experience. Instead we’re just reminded of what we already knew: that Fun Sink cannot bear to let someone else be in control of anything, because she thinks she can do it better.

Twinkle: Seven Months Have Passed Since I Burned it All Down with Fun Sink, and I’m OK

It’s been seven months since the fateful text message I sent to Fun Sink, in which I asked her to loop me in on the plans she makes with my kids. There never really was a resolution to any of it, but looking back I think it has been a net positive, because it exposed who Fun Sink really is, and what she really thinks of me. It’s liberating, because I truly no longer care about what she thinks. This is especially convenient as we approach the Christmas season.

We don’t see Fun Sink as much as we did before. I look at it as a natural consequence that she has to face for the way she acted. When I see her, I’m nice to her, and she’s nice to me. But I know how she really feels about me, and she knows how I really feel about her, and we both know the other one knows. When the kids have activities or plans with friends on Friday nights, those take precedence. If Fun Sink wants to schedule a Friday night a few weeks ahead of time to celebrate something special, that’s fine too. I’m not trying to keep any grandkids away from any grandparents, but my kids are onto her too. (More on that in another post.) Just like the consequences that resulted after the way she treated my brother-in-law, she has only herself to thank for seeing my kids less.

I am so excited for Christmas this year, and I realized a big part of it is that I don’t care if she sees our tree. I. Don’t. Care. I used to be really stressed about it because I didn’t want to damage her relationship with my husband because of the tree that I insisted on, but now the damage has been done—by her—so WHO CARES? She also already knows about the tree. In one of the conversations my husband had with her about how awful I am, she said to my father-in-law, “Yeah…Twinkle had to have a Christmas tree because her mom died and her dad needed somewhere to celebrate Christmas so they just had to have a tree.” She is an awful person. This year I’m Christmas-ing it up, and not the *slightest* bit stressed about what she thinks about it.

I guess, this many months later, I feel like I know who she is. I know she’ll never like me. I know she never even tried. She tells herself that she’s this wonderful, giving, kind person, who opens her home to everyone, but she put me down since Day One, and she still does. She did it at Thanksgiving. She does it every chance she gets, and now when it happens, I know what’s going on, so I don’t let it bother me so much. Or at all.

I do feel bad for my husband. We watched a dumb Lifetime Christmas movie last night starring Terri Hatcher as an influencer who finds love post-divorce with a man who runs a family business chalet resort in Aspen, and in the movie his French mother was so sweet to her. It actually makes me sad, what could have been. I’m a nice person; I get along with everyone —except Fun Sink. If she had just accepted me and treated me with basic kindness, if she had received me with gladness since I make her son happy, if she ever once gave me credit for these wonderful children that Husband and I have raised, it could have been a normal, loving, equal, friendly, mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship. It makes me sad when I see mothers-in-law being kind to their daughters-in-law, in movies or in real life, because I wish I had that. I also can’t BELIEVE it when I see a mother actually accepting and being nice to the girl her son likes. It could have been so different. 

I also know how much it hurts to lose a mother. I don’t want my husband to have any regrets about his relationship with his mother after she’s gone, and I certainly don’t want to be the source of that hurt. So that’s a real concern for me, and it’s something I’d like to figure out before it’s too late. I don’t know how, because she hates me, and keeping my distance from her is an act of self-preservation. That one aspect is complicated for me. 

More on Thanksgiving and Fun Sink’s controlling ways in a future post…

Julep: Friends, I am tired of cooking.

To be clear, it is not just the act of standing over the stove that has worn me out. That alone I don't mind so much. But I am tired tired ... 

... TIRED of deciding what nutritious combination of foodstuffs this whole family is going to ingest in a given evening. Tired of making sure I pick the right components up at the grocery to assemble seven reasonably healthy dinnertime meals every week, tired of figuring out which one I can throw together in the limited window before somebody has to be at Scouts/ sports practice/ piano lesson/ dance class, tired of fielding the complaints from the children. WHY didn't I remember since the last time we ate this six months ago that you don't LIKE ravioli, you only like TORTELLINI.  

Once upon a time, this family had two adults who cooked. One of them was better at cooking planned meals, and the other was the one who could throw together a meal from practically anything. He actually looked forward to it and bragged about his Iron Chef worthy skills. So there were some days a week that I planned a meal and cooked it, and other days that he just nosed around the kitchen and generated dinner. Those days are long since past. Ever since the COVID period where he worked 20 hours a day, he stopped appearing regularly at the dinner hour. Now he's like a special guest star - and his cooking is limited to his particular specialties like chili or grilling steaks, almost always on the weekend so that he can spend hours on it and dirty every dish in the kitchen for me to wash, after assuring me that he'll "get to it later."

Today was a long day at work. I realize it is only Tuesday, but I swear and affirm that somehow I have already filled four whole workdays this week. The last thing I did before leaving the office tonight was document my discussion with an employee for HR, which tells you plenty. When I got outside, my car was approximately ten thousand degrees Fahrenheit, since the deceptively pleasant weather lulled me into forgetting that if I don't put up my sunshade, the western orientation of the parking lot means that I will broil upon entry.

So with this as a background, I called Mr. J to ask if he would be home for dinner. "Yes," he confidently announced. [Reader, observe: nine times out of ten this confident announcement is followed by him getting home well past dinner time.] Great, I replied; what are you cooking?

Mr. J: Well, what do we have?

Me: I have no idea. I am just so tired of figuring out what to eat every night. This week is particularly bad because I have all the easy dinners I could think of lined up for Sitter [who is staying with the kids for three nights while we celebrate our anniversary in New Orleans]. 

Mr. J: I mean, I guess I can figure it out.

Me: That would be awesome. Thank you. I'll see you at home in a little minute. Bye! [I quickly hang up the phone so that he cannot back out.]

Less than one minute later - the phone rings back.

Mr. J: Hey, when you get home, why don't you look in the freezer and cupboards and see what we have. Then you can let me know if I need to stop at the store on the way home for something.

Me: If I have to do that, I might as well cook myself. If you're not home by 6, I'll just find something for everyone to eat except for you.

It's 6:09. Guess what I'm about to start doing. 

Twinkle: Sigh.

 Sigh. 

Today Husband and I went to the football game. We had a nice time. The kids stayed home and Middle had plans to go to a friend’s house to practice basketball drills because she and all her friends have recently joined the basketball team. 

I made plans with another mom to get Middle to and from this gathering. I’m always happy to take anybody’s kid anywhere. I want to help moms and I want my kids to have their friends around, plus there are three of them so when I help out, I’m paying into a larger system of goodwill. Today I called in a favor to a mom I have helped a lot. Not that it has to be so transactional, but I needed help today. She agreed to take Middle to and from this friend’s house. It was all planned. Middle was to be picked up at around 1:30 for a 2 o’clock arrival at the home of the friend who was hosting the basketball meetup.

When we got back from the game, we stopped at a family party where I saw MIL. She mentioned that she had taken my kids to lunch. They were at lunch at 1:25 when Middle mentioned that she was getting picked up by a friend’s mom at some point soon. MIL had no idea about this plan and had to rush back home to get her there for her pickup time.

Sigh.

This is what I am talking about, y’all. Has anyone ever thought of looping me into the plans? Has anyone ever thought, “Their mother probably has a plan for them—let’s ask her.” I can arrange rides for my kids ALL DAY LONG. I can coordinate the logistics until the cows come home, but until my in-laws GO THROUGH ME ABOUT THE PLANS, I will be screwed every time. And what I really feel bad about is this other mom, who I had coordinated with, who was going along with the plan we agreed on, and there were wheels in motion NEITHER OF US EVER EVEN KNEW ABOUT. MIL and FIL took the kids to lunch, and no one thought even to tell me about it or to ask me if there were other factors in play.

The other thing that is super annoying about it is that being nice to me should be a basic prerequisite for spending time with my kids. Sorry not sorry. Go through me. I am so frustrated. 

Twinkle: My Kids Love Me, Leaving MIL Baffled

I love hanging with all my kids. Oldest and Middle will hang with me and want to talk sometimes, and when they do I drop everything, because it doesn’t happen all the time. Youngest, on the other hand, always wants to hang. She’ll talk to me in the pool for hours, analyzing everyone in the 5th grade, discussing the friend groups, or just throwing a scrunchie back and forth. She wants to play cards each night. We’re really enjoying reading Anne of Green Gables together. If I need to run an errand, out of the three of them, she will always be the one to go with me and then want to keep driving around listening to music.

Today when we met up to hand off the kids to the grandparents before the trip to Lexington, she was sad. MIL was baffled. What could possibly be wrong? What could it be? It was a flashback of when they were babies, screaming for me. “She’s hungry.” “Her feet are cold.” “You forgot to put a hat on her.” Only this time it was different, because she can speak. “Are you tired?” Did you not get enough sleep last night?” “Do you not want to go to Memphis?”

My husband stood there dumbly while Youngest clung to me, crying. Middle was getting her pre-back-to-school hair cut (we met at the salon), and Eldest would have done anything to get out of the awkward situation, where Youngest was crying and MIL could not understand what was going on. Finally I said, exasperated, “I think she’s sad that I’m leaving.” It would have been nice if my husband had said it, but I guess it’s too much to ask for for ANYONE to acknowledge that I mean something to my kids. MIL was still incredulous. She can’t comprehend that my kids actually like me, that any child would actually want their mother. They could be (and have been) torn sobbing from my arms, screaming, “Mommmmmyyy!” And MIL will be like, “What could possibly be wrong? It’s definitely that she didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

I’m sure she’ll spend the next two days trying to deprogram my kids from loving their mother.

Twinkle: Memphis Blues

 When will I ever learn, y’all? Will it be this time? Will this be the time when I learn my lesson?

My husband has to speak at a conference in Lexington for the next two days, and I always go with him because it’s fun to go there and stay in a hotel, go to my favorite antique shops, walk around downtown Lexington, etc. In the old times the grandparents each could have done a night with them, but that’s really too much to ask of my dad. We asked my in-laws to hang with the kids, and of course, because nothing is never enough, they said, “Sure we’ll watch them for two days, and then after that we’ll just take them with us to Memphis on Friday morning!”

We’ll be finished on Friday and they easily could have just left the kids at our house for a couple of hours until we got back to town, but because I never learn, I asked my husband what he thought about going to Memphis, too, and meeting everyone down there.

Please understand two points: I was coming off a beautiful cousins’ weekend with my aunt Mel (she that my MiL so resents) and her side of the family. She is so sweet and kind, loves everyone, loves controlled grandkid chaos, laughs a lot. Even though I’ve been accused of hating family, Mel’s vibe is actually that I wish for with my husband’s side of the family. I don’t hate family at all. I wish for a family that accepts me and doesn’t steamroll me, that can just relax and laugh.

The other point is that I stipulated I was only comfortable staying in a hotel. I thought it was pretty rude to invite ourselves and then descend on my SIL’s house like a swarm of locusts. I told my husband before I ever suggested it that I was only comfortable staying in a hotel. He said, and I quote, “Don’t we have that gift card to the Peabody we’ve been saving?” That sounded great to me. Putting in a little face time with the family. Throwing my in-laws a bone. Retreating to the Peabody.

Then the rest of the week happened. I talked to my SIL, who insisted that it wouldn’t be an imposition at all and we could sleep on her sofa bed. I said, “Maybe; we’ll see.” And then reiterated to my husband that I was not comfortable with this arrangement. She and my MIL have planned all the vegan meals for us. MIL told my kids Memphis was happening before we got a chance to. My husband was working on his speeches for the conference so I barely saw him.

Last night we finally talked about it, and by now I’m sure you’ve worked out what has happened. My husband said that everyone was planning on us all staying with SIL, and MIL and SIL have worked on it and made plans. The trip I agreed to is not happening anymore. I’ve been steamrolled by these people yet again. I’ve gone from the Peabody (or any hotel; it doesn’t have to be the Peabody, but he was the one who suggested it) to my SIL’s pull-out sofa, with no agency or decision-making power whatsoever. Not even a door to close on the family when it gets to be too much. It doesn’t matter what I’m comfortable with, or how I feel about it, because this is what everyone else wants, and they’ve already planned the whole thing. And I was the one who even suggested it in the first place.

When will I learn? I just want to be accepted by them. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. No amount of doing what they want is ever enough for them. And how is my husband letting this happen, when I told him lots of times that I’m not comfortable with it? Will I ever stop trying to get them to like me? 

Real talk: they will never like you. Read those words, Twinkle. Bookmark the page. Remember.

Twinkle: Sigh. I'm Going to Have to Push Back Again.

Last night my husband and kids went with the inlaws to Shabbat in the Park while I was volunteering at the horse racing booth at a certain church picnic. I got the better part of that deal for sure. My husband said it went well, and my MIL did, as predicted, bring a big picnic spread for everyone even though he told her we had it covered. Whatever. I don't care. 

He also said his dad is obsessed with Burger Week. He described his dad going to all these burger places, getting his burger card stamped (or whatever; I don't know how it works). He's in the top 1% of Burger Week participants and he's really excited about it. I think this is cute. It's the coolest thing I've heard about his dad in awhile. It's actually semi-interesting and fun. I would way rather have a conversation about someone's Burger Week experiences—where he got the best burger, the toppings, the different burger styles—than anything to do with the restrictive plant-based diet I usually have to hear about from these people. After many years of dabbling in veganism, I'm sure my FIL could use the iron. 

Forgetting who I was talking about for a minute, I said, "Oh—that's fun. I guess your mom is having fun with it, too?"

Husband: "No, she hates it." 

Of course she does. For a second I forgot that she can't have fun with anything. I forgot how judgy and mean she is. I forgot how she's unable to let anyone derive any joy from anything. Of course she's going to disapprove of Burger Week and of course she's going to roll her eyes at any happiness my FIL gets from it. My bad.

Today Youngest had a birthday party at Top Golf. She started talking about needing new shoes, and indeed she does need new shoes for the start of the schoolyear. 

She said, "[MIL] wants to take me shoe shopping. She told me to ask you when is a good time."

No. 

No, no no. 

That's how this all started. It is not on my kids to "tell Mommy." It will never happen if they are supposed to "tell Mommy," because it's not as if I'm going to text my MIL and say, "Hey—I heard you want to buy stuff for my kids. When do you want to do that?" Reach out. Send me a text. Say, "When is a good time for me to take the kids shoe shopping?" How hard is it? It feels like they're just defying my wishes and boundaries for fun now. I'm going to have to stand up again. I don't want to, but clearly they don't understand my very simple wishes about making plans with my kids. Loop me in. That's all I ask for. And, maybe be nice to me? Being nice may be too much to ask for, and if so, that's fine. They don't have to be nice to me but they do have to go through me to make plans with my kids. I will die on this hill. I'm going to have to stand up again, and I really don't want to. 

And when I do push back, it looks like I'm ungrateful for the generous gesture of a pair of new shoes. I am actually really grateful for that. And, in a normal world, I would be glad that they have a grandmother left to go shopping with. I think that's a really special experience. I want them to have that. I know MIL wants it. I don't want to stand in the way, and it's also helpful that she wants to buy shoes. It's a really nice thing for her to do. All I'm asking is that she go through me for the plans. I really don't understand how this is hard. 

I hate this dynamic so much. I've set a boundary: go through me when making plans with my kids. She has pushed back on the boundary. Now she wants to take my kids shopping, but she doesn't want to respect the boundary. If and when I tell her that she needs to respect the boundary, I look like the ungrateful bitch who isn't thankful for the gift of a pair of new shoes for my kids. I am grateful. But I would rather buy them myself than endure the disrespect. 

Twinkle: In a Normal Family...

MIL texted my husband and me. She wanted to know if we were going to Shabbat in the Park. Actually, no thanks, I think I'll skip this one. She asked my husband, "Do you want me to bring food for all of us?" I was actually going to just let her bring food for all of them—what do I care? But my husband knows I'm sick of letting her control everything, so he helpfully said, "No, Twinkle has food that we'll bring." And honestly, it isn't that big of a deal. I threw a quick little picnic together. I know he was trying to help and keep her from controlling every single thing. 

As I threw together a quick little picnic, I thought about the collaboration it would have been in a normal family. I could have said, "I'm sort of going in a Mediterranean direction. I'll bring the pesto pasta salad. Do you want to grab some hummus and whipped feta?  And she could have said, "Sure! I'll make a caprese salad and bring some fresh cherries." And I could have said, "Great—I'll send plates and cups." And it would have been so normal. 

I really think it's up to the MIL to set the tone when someone marries into a family. The tone she has set is one where she controls everything, so the dynamic isn't one where I could take the initiative like that. (And then recently she has blamed me for "never hosting" and generally not taking the initiative.) In our family dynamic, she doesn't let anyone help (and then complains that no one helps). She decides the menu and it's not a collaboration. She'll do the whole thing by herself. If I ever made a suggestion about the direction a meal should go in, it would be way out of line. It would never happen. This is the tone she has set. If I ever took the initiative (that she blames me for not taking), she would completely dismiss that initiative. She has hosted every Friday night ever since the beginning of our marriage, and we're expected to be there and never invited to contribute...but in her mind I'm the bitch because "I never invite them over on a Friday night." I have never been treated like an equal, and I don't know the rules or expectations here. I didn't know I was allowed to invite them over on a Friday night. I thought it was her thing, especially since she never lets me help or participate. It is just staggering, the way she has treated me, and then she blames me for trying to work within the parameters she has set. 

And then she asks if she should bring all the food to feed my family. She's going to bring an entire separate picnic tonight, even though my husband said no—it will be enough for her and my FIL and my husband and all my kids. She'll do it even though my husband said I had it covered. 

And it's so petty. And so much extra work. It should be a collaboration among equals who want to help each other. Instead she makes everything a dictatorship, and when I try to go out on my own and feed my family, she'll invariably turn it all into a competition.

Twinkle: And Another Thing

My husband finally called me and was sympathetic, so that helped. Talking to him helped me realize something else.

It’s now 10:30. I wanted to get the kilts hemmed today. I need Eldest there, physically, to figure out the length of the hem. I have a few other errands to run. Middle and Yongest are both late sleepers. I think they’re fine staying home by themselves, but Middle doesn’t like it. I can’t leave and run my errands because if Middle woke up in a house without me, my husband, or Eldest, she would be upset. I know she’s 12 and she should be ok with it, but I’m not doing that to her until she’s comfortable with it.

Mr, Twinkle wants to explain all this to his father, how it throws off everything when I don’t know what’s going on. He thinks his father can handle it better than his mom did. CLEARLY neither of them can handle it. MIL has him brainwashed to think I’m a Megan Markle type who hates family. 

They don’t respect me as a mother, and they don’t respect my husband either. They think THEY are the parents and they can do whatever they want. When I said no and tried to draw a boundary, they acted like I was crazy, controlling, and domineering, and on some sort of power trip. 

If we did try to explain to them that it threw off the day, it would raise two questions in their minds: 1) why are the kids sleeping so late?; and 2) why doesn’t Twinkle think they can stay alone while she runs errands? “Gawd! She’s so controlling and she just HAS to be in charge of everything and baby them!” As I said, I do think they can stay alone. If I tried to explain all that to my in-laws, to get ahead of their criticism of me and my parenting for letting my kids sleep so late and not putting them in situations they’d find uncomfortable, my in-laws would 100% say, “Why was she so WORDY in her explanation? It didn’t need to be two paragraphs long! She could have said it in one sentence!” They criticize situations they know nothing about, and then call me crazy when I try to explain myself.

I cannot do anything right and they don’t respect me and they never will. They assume the worst of me on every single thing I do. And they clearly don’t want to respect my boundaries, and they don’t think my feelings or opinions matter. It’s a terrible feeling to know all this, and to have tried to speak up, and know that none of it mattered. I blew it all up and set a boundary for nothing.

Twinkle: Sigh. All that Drama Last Spring for Absolutely Nothing. Sigh.

The kids are finally home from camp. It's summertime, and the livin' is easy. I mean it's actually sort of hard because they all have friends and conflicting agendas and things they want to do, and I'm trying to squeeze in all the pool days and family movie nights, and then you throw in fall sports practices, necessary errands, back to school tasks like getting kilts hemmed and getting school supplies and ordering textbooks. It's actually a lot, but I'm so glad to have them back. By "the livin' is easy" I just meant I have relaxed my own standards of general household cleanliness and competency in order to enjoy it all with my kids before the start of school. 

So. The house is not that clean. There's an Amazon box by the front door. There's a pool bag on the chair. There's a wine glass from last night's viewing of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark on the table next to my spot on the sofa. And there aren't many rules about when to go to bed and when to wake up. And I'm forgiving myself for all of it. We're relaxing everything and just having fun before the regimented schedule kicks back in.

That's why I was unpleasantly surprised this morning at 8:30 a.m., when I was enjoying my morning coffee in a house full of sleeping teens and preteens, to hear a knock at my door, and to see my in-laws' car in the driveway. The dog was going wild, threatening to disturb the peace of the morning and wake everyone up. I was in my PJs, sitting in bed, not ready to answer the door. And I wasn't going to either. The knocking did not stop. They weren't going away.

Finally my eldest came to my door and informed me that she was going driving this morning. She forgot to tell me. My husband forgot to tell me. My in-laws forgot to tell me. Everyone forgot to tell me that this was happening.

This is exactly the type of situation that so set my MIL off last April when I sent her that fateful text that said, "Hey—can you please loop me in on the plans so I know what's going on with my kids?" And she got all mad about it and had a long list of grievances about how awful I am. And everything blew up. And now, here we are at the end of July, after all of it, and no one thought to tell me about the plans.

I just cannot deal with these people. I am filled with both blind rage and laughter, because I am still living in bizarro world with these absolute inconsiderate assholes who think they're right all the time. How hard is it to send a text, "Hey—[Eldest] and I are going driving in the morning. See you at 8:30." I would have at least washed my face and brushed my hair and moved the Amazon box by 8:30.

Sigh. Off to text my therapist.

Julep: To Scout Camp ... or not

 As originally planned, the Julep Family Summer Schedule had the Bear spending nine days camping with the Boy Scouts in upstate New York over the 4th of July. He and the other boys his age moved up to the "big Scouts" in March. Every year the troop takes a really cool week-long adventure to one of the many, many amazing Scout reservations around the country, and Mr. J and I were excited for the Bear to take part. 

As y'all know, Bear went to sleepaway camp for 2 weeks in North Carolina last year, and he managed the "away from home" part just fine. As an introvert, though, he was pretty tired of other people by the second half of the second week. He didn't talk to any of us for 72 hours after he got home. So I thought this nine-day trip was going to be perfect ... until I went to the mandatory parents' meeting on Monday night and realized that only one other boy from his grade was going. That boy has an older brother who is in the year ahead of Bear.

I hate for him to miss out on this trip, but as I sat in the parents meeting and thought - this won't go well. The one other kid from his grade is, if you'll pardon my French, a real lickass. He tags along after his brother and his brother is a jerk. 

There are a couple of good eggs in the class above Bear and he gets along with them well. He also gets along fine with the older boys in the troop ... just as he did earlier in June with Horse's boys out in Colorado. But since he was in kindergarten and went to summer care at St Somewhere, he's had conflict with a couple boys in particular in that grade. 

My current working theory is, those boys are mostly older brothers. They are used to bossing younger boys around, and they like to assert their authorit-ah. Well, that does not work with my kid. Bear bends the knee to nobody. He's also not socially adept enough to recognize that they are messing with him and walk away before it gets ugly.

Mr. J and I really don't want the Bear to sour on Scouts this early. So now we are re-planning the next couple of weeks. And by we, of course, I mean I.

WWJD?

** I started this post days and days ago. I honestly can't remember what more I was planning, so I'm popping it up now and moving on to the next one.

Last week we took a family vacation to Colorado. Good times had by all, though it was a little on the soggy side. We got to spend 3 days with my good friend Horses and his family, which was lovely. He continues to be his conservative non-MAGA-nut Oxford-shirt-wearing self, and his wife is still a crunchy granola earth lady, which is funny to see but they are evidently still very happy together. Only two of their three boys (ages 15 and 13) were home during our stay, but both of them were so sweet and kind to my tweenage children, it's clear that they are being raised right.

We had also planned to spend a night or two with one of Mr. J's oldest friends, Books, who lives in Colorado Springs. I had told her months in advance that we were coming and what the dates were ... but I discovered the week beforehand that Mr. J had failed to have any follow-up conversations with her, even though he had consistently assured me that we would stay at their house. Turned out that they were not receiving guests. Now, these folks did spend two nights at our house less than a year ago, but apparently their house is very small and she works from home. et cetera. Sure, fine, whatever. There are hotels in Colorado Springs, it's fine. Books did want our families to get together one evening, though. They didn't invite us to the house for dinner - they picked a (fairly pricy) restaurant. Separate checks, natch. 

It's been a long time since she lived in Louisville; apparently the Southern hospitality has worn off. I promise I don't mean any of this b!tchy. 

Books has a daughter who is 2 years older than my Punkin. They hit it off when the family came to Louisville last year, and once again got on like a house afire on this trip. Punkin went back to their house after dinner so they could get swimsuits and Books's Daughter came and swam at the hotel pool for a while and Books caught up with Mr. J. Books is considering returning to the Louisville area in the next year - her job is now fully remote, Colorado is really expensive, she still has family here, and also Books's Daughter had a really hard time in school last year. Colorado Springs is very evangelical, and although Mr J and Books grew up attending Catholic school together, their family is not religious at all. Apparently BD was subjected to a lot of bullying last year.

Punkin has gotten very into emailing her people (so far, my mom, my sister, and her school-year babysittter) -- and at first I thought it would be so sweet if Punkin and BD stayed in touch by email. But after the first conversation with Punkin, I have failed to follow up with Books to get contact information for BD. The fact is, I am hesitant. 

While BD and Punkin were at the house, BD was showing off her room and told Punkin a particular item was a gift from her ex-girlfriend. BD then told Punkin that she is "bi." Punkin brought this up to me at breakfast the next morning with some anxiety ... she asked me if I thought it was OK for people to be bi, and I told her that of course it's OK, some people are made differently and God knows what He's doing when He makes people even when He doesn't use the standard pattern. For instance, one of Horses's boys is deaf. There's nothing wrong about being deaf and there's nothing wrong about being gay or bisexual. 

That said ... I give a side-eye to a 12 year old who (1) already has "ex-girlfriends" and (2) wants to tell my 10 year old about them. What's this kid processing? 

 

Twinkle: Evading the Cookie Police

 Youngest and I got smarter tonight.

We all came in late from seeing the Little Mermaid. Youngest and I lingered in the lobby while everyone else went upstairs on the elevator (mostly because I didn’t want to be on an elevator with Fun Sink.)

Youngest noticed the cookies all packaged up, and she felt she’d had too many Milk Duds at the movie so cookies weren’t a good idea, but she thought they might be nice to bring everyone for the road trip tomorrow. We grabbed some, put them in my pockets, and headed upstairs to the cousins room. 

Fun Sink was ready and waiting on the other side of the door. She came in immediately when she heard us come in, thinking she would bust us. Sorry, Fun Sink, nothing to see here. She left, then came back a couple minutes later. Still nothing to see. 

I was just saying goodnight to my kids at that point, and she found another reason to come in, a hairbrush or something. Still nothing to see. I discreetly put the cookies behind the tv and told the kids they were for the drive home. 

Imagine being that person, the person who thinks she is the cookie police. It must be miserable.

Twinkle: Sock Woes

My MIL loves to talk about how little my SIL is. It’s a major topic of discussion, and it’s weird. We can all see that she’s short. The family talks about it so much that my niece aspires to be little just like her mom, because being little is weirdly glorified. My niece is a very cute but normal-sized 8th grader, but she’s always talking about how little she is. It’s sweet that she wants to be just like her mom (although the family would probably think that part of it was weird since they don’t seem to care about the bond between mothers and their children). I just think it’s weird that in this family, my SIL has made being a short person her whole personality, and everyone else treats it like it’s just the ultimate quality that everyone wants and only my SIL has. Who would want to be that weirdly small? Why is something that is immutable, that you can’t choose or change about yourself, the ultimate quality to care about?

We have to relive the moment years ago when my SIL was on a plane and the flight attendant referred to her husband as her “daddy.” There was the time she played softball and was the smallest one. Every time there’s something tiny, my MIL has to compare it to my SIL. We have to relive these stories again and again. My BIL extols the tininess of her feet. Meanwhile everyone acts like my kids are giants when they’re just normal height. This family talks about height, and who is tall and who is short, all the time. And the subtext is always that short is better. No wonder my niece aspires to it.

My feet are actually smaller than my SIL’s and my neice’s, but I have never made a big deal about it because I’m not weird. Even though for 16 years I’ve been hearing about how small SIL’s feet are.

So this morning my niece complemented my shoes and I thanked her but mentioned my ankle socks didn’t come up high enough in the back and I was afraid my shoes would rub agains the back of my ankles. My niece said she had some socks that would come up higher and they’d “definitely fit me because [she] wears a 7.” She said this as if my feet would obviously be bigger than hers, but I wear a 6.

I put on the socks. The heel is halfway up the back of my leg and the socks look ridiculous, because of the uncomfortable truth that my feet are smaller than my SIL’s and neice’s. I’m grateful because now my shoes won’t rub up against my ankles, but it’s just annoying. In a normal family, we could all laugh at the weird way my socks are too big, but in this family we can’t because my SIL is the only one who’s allowed to have small feet and hers have to be the smallest out of everyone’s, even though they’re not. If the tables were turned and she were the one wearing socks that were too big, we would never hear the end of it and my MIL would have to point it out and laugh about it all day and for the rest of our lives. “Remember those socks that [SIL] wore in St. Louis?” We would never hear the end of it. I wish I were exaggerating. It is exactly the stupid sort of thing they would make a big deal about, if it were my SIL.

I know it’s such a dumb thing to notice or complain about. This family is just so weird. Everything is backwards. They don’t value mothers but they do value my SIL’s smallness, above all else. 

Oh and my niece told a story about the ride here. She said Fun Sink gave my FIL a “savage burn.” They were going over a bridge that said “weight limit” and Fun Sink said FIL better get out of the car. I actually think that is a mean thing to say. Also my FIL is really a small man; no one could ever accuse him of being fat. He eats really, really healthy, to an annoying degree. It’s just like Fun Sink to take a cheap shot that’s actually mean, and not even true, and think she’s making a funny joke.

She is just an unhappy person. I know this sock thing is not my strongest argument against my family. I know socks are boring. My point is it’s part of a weird pattern of commenting on people’s sizes. 

Twinkle: St. Louis Blues (But Not Really)

In the name of trying to smooth things over with my husband’s family, I agreed to go to St. Louis. It’s a major inconvenience and it’s kind of awkward with my in-laws, but I am trying. I’m really trying.

The day went well overall. Fun Sink really wanted us to go tour some Anheuser-Busch farm, but I didn’t want to support it because of the whole Bud Light thing. Sorry not sorry, but Dylan Mulvaney mocks women and I just didn’t want to support it. She kept pushing and pushing us to go, but we held firm and told her to go without us. She waited for us at the hotel, thinking she could strong-arm us, but we turned the car around when we saw their car at the hotel. We drove to Wash U to walk around. 

Dinner at a bbq place was fine. The kids went for a night swim. All was going well. And then I really messed up, y’all. I messed up big time, and she is not happy. 

It all started when I walked down to the lobby of this Hampton Inn to get a shower cap, and saw that it was “cookie hour.” I grabbed a couple of cookies for my husband, and thought about taking some to the kids, but I knew Fun Sink wouldn’t like that, so I didn’t do it. Because I’m trying here. 

When I got back upstairs, my youngest was in my room (visiting from the cousins’ room down the hall). I said, “Hey—come with me and I’ll take you somewhere fun.” And we went to cookie hour. I thought it would be our little secret.

We sat in the lobby while she ate her cookie and gave me sage advice about not worrying so much what Fun Sink thinks. When it was time to go upstairs, she wanted to grab cookies to take to everyone. She wanted to return to the cousins’ room a hero, bearing cookies for all. How could I say no?

I carried the cookies upstairs discreetly. When we got to the room I handed them to Youngest and she passed them out to all the cousins, who were delighted. Everybody was having fun and eating cookies and it was just a cute moment and a nice memory.

Until Fun Sink walked in.

She smelled the joy and cookies a mile away and came from her adjoining room. She immediately surmised the situation, and she gave me the most DISGUSTED look. Like just absolute disgust. It was hands down the dirtiest look I have ever received. Pure disgust, and she was not trying to hide it. 

I quickly kissed my kids and the cousins goodnight and got out, laughing all the way down the hall.

A few minutes later Youngest came down the hall knocking. She said Fun Sink gave her a disgusted dirty look, too. Youngest just shrugged and threw up her hands, and said, “It was cookie hour.”

It’s just funny at the point. Who is she to say when my kids can and can’t eat cookies? She’s no one, that’s who. She is not the ultimate authority, and that’s what she hates. It kills her that she’s not their mom. She also hates that I being fun and joy and all the kids love me. She hates that I can make decisions about my kids that she disagrees with, and she can’t do anything about it. 

She’s really missing out on fun and sweet memories with her family, because she can’t just lighten up. She’s missing out on a relationship with me, too. I’m sure she saw this as me trying to undermine her (I found out later that my FIL wanted to take the kids to cookie hour, but she vetoed it.) She looks for the worst, she assumes bad intentions from me. It’s her loss. 

St. Louis is actually sort of fun. I get to be with my kids and my niece and nephew, and we’re having fun! And I’ve once again angered Fun Sink by simply existing.

Julep: Return of the Blog

 First of all, I really want to thank Twinkle for resurrecting the blog. I have not had such fun in years as the evening I spent re-reading our history. We are hilarious and I can't believe we let this lapse for so long. We're back, baby! 

Secondly, I have continued to mull over the Twinkle family saga since we talked over cocktails on Tuesday night. I know I said some of this on Tuesday, but of course, the margaritas and wine were also flowing ... so excuse me for repeating myself. 

Fun Sink is so, so, so mad because this whole episode has been a torpedo to her long-term plan to make Twinkle irrelevant. I am convinced that she has been biding her time for YEARS, telling herself that as soon as the girls are old enough, she can cut Twinks out and engage directly to mold them into the self-critical, miserable young Jewish women she thinks they should be. But -- in addition to being batshit - her plan has two critical flaws. 

(1) She moved too fast and showed her hand. I said on Tuesday that she should have waited until the girls were old enough to drive etc., but Dibbs rightly pointed out that once they can drive themselves, they won't want to hang out with her. She was right to start reaching out at this age to build the connection. But what she should have done was to stay below the radar for now. When Twinkle asked to be looped in, she should have done it perfectly, exactly as asked. And then she could have had all the opportunities she wanted to tell them not to eat anything tasty and stay away from goyim and feed them nasty untrue nonsense about Twink's understanding of family dynamics.

(2) She's overlooked the power of personality. The Twinkle girls love their mama, because she's lovable! And fun! Whereas Fun Sink is, indeed, a fun sink. If asked to decide who they want to grow into, what likelihood that the Twinkle girls choose Fun Sink?

... we already know what happens when someone is presented Fun Sink as one alternative and Twinkle as the other. Exhibit A: Mr. Twinkle.

Mr. Twinkle is the key here. All his life, his mother has made her affection conditional on her approval. Even though he has opted for fun and glamour and good times instead of dour joylessness, he still struggles. He's still trying. 

Twinkle, I think you need to be up front with your girls that this is hard for you, but it's really hard on Daddy. You're asking them to help you keep the peace with Fun Sink so that Daddy's life can be a little easier. I'd offer up some conversational starters like " I hope you know that Daddy and I will love you no matter how you choose to live your life. You don't have to earn our love, we love you just because you're ours. I don't know if you've ever noticed this, but Daddy tries really hard to earn his parents' approval. They do love him, and they mean well [Ha!] but feeling judged is hard for him." Then I'd let them talk. Your girls are smart and I bet they have observed plenty already. If you offer them the opportunity to air what they have seen, and compare notes with each other, you're in business. When she starts pulling that sh!t on them, they will be perfectly aware of what's going down and they won't fall for it.

Always, always bring it back with grace. Who can get mad about that? We worry about Daddy. We are sorry for Fun Sink because she doesn't seem to enjoy her life very much. Let's do what we can for her while preserving our own awareness of who we are. 

Twinkle: Transcript of the May 11 Call Between My Husband and Fun Sink

Husband: Um. OK. So I know you were pissed about that text because you didn't invite us to Shabbat right after that, so I wanted to talk about it.

Fun Sink: I...Uh...Well. It was not...we were going out that night. Or dad went out; I was sick. So. That's when Dad went to Faye's. But you know. I wasn't happy. [bitter laughter] You know I'm not her whipping boy.

Husband: Yeah. I mean, so...so did you think it was too harsh? Or did you just think that you don't feel like you need to go through her and can just go to the kids?

Fun Sink: [Husband's Name], I didn't go through anybody. [Eldest] texted me because she wanted some things to take on that trip, and asked me if I could take her shopping that day, which was Monday, and she wanted some things to leave on Tuesday. When she texted me, I said, "Did you clear this with your mom?" And thats when [Twinkle], I guess, went off on [Eldest], because then she said, "Well, maybe you better check with Mommy on this," or something. So...I didn't instigate any of that. But she can't just say, "Hey, can you check with me?" She's got to...uh...send two paragraphs, like I don't know she's their mother?!

Husband: Well...I didn't think. I honestly didn't think the text was harsh, but from the reaction that I gathered, you know, you did. I do think that all she was trying to convey was that she did want to be the point person for anything with uh—

Fun Sink: And two sentences could have done that. 

Husband: I mean maybe she was trying—

Fun Sink: I feel like you—

Husband: Yeah. Go ahead. You feel like what?

Fun Sink: silence, sniffling

Husband: You there?

Fun Sink: I'm here.

Husband: What were you going to say? You feel like what?

Fun Sink: [voice cracking] Nothing. It doesn't matter.

Husband: It it matters. I mean I feel like we ought to be able to talk about it because, obviously I love you; I love [Twinkle]; I want y'all to have a better relationship. She just wants to be included as part of the family. I know you want to be able to, like you, know, see the kids when you want to see them. I feel like we can talk about it. Maybe this isn't the best time because you're at school, but, you know, it puts me in an awkward position. I want you all to have a better relationship—

Fun Sink: I've tried—

Husband: She does appreciate—

Fun Sink: For fifteen years I've tried.

Husband: Well—

Fun Sink: [voice cracks with emotion] In her 3000 posts on Facebook and Instagram, there is not one of me or anything that I ever do for those kids, [more emotion] and I love those kids beyond anything you could imagine.

Husband: I know you do. She knows, she knows how much the kids love you, and she wants you to be with them. You know, I...I...I understand you saying that there's no public expression of appreciation, but I feel like I have thanked you on posts before. I feel like she thanks you in person when you do things for the kids.

Fun Sink: No she doesn't. She never thanks me for anything. Not for a gift, not for anything. 

Husband: Well I'm sorry. We'll try to figure out a way for you all to get through it.

Fun Sink: [Husband's Name] I've tried for fifteen years to make her a part of our family, and for her to understand what it's like to have an extended family, because I know she didn't grow up that way. And I know that she didn't want anything to do with [her father's] family. I get that.

Husband: Wait, what? Wait, wait, wait. Say that again. That she didn't want anything to do...she didn't want us to have anything to do with his family? Or she didn't want to?

Fun Sink: [her mother] did not want to have anything to do—

Hubsand: Oh [her mother] didn't—

Fun Sink: with [her father's] family. And that's the way [Twinkle] grew up, with that as a role model. And...

Husband: Yeah, I never knew that. 

Fun Sink: What do you mean you never knew that?

Husband: Like, [her mother] would go to [her father's] side of the family stuff. I mean I don't don't remember her ever saying...

Fun Sink: [sarcastically] Oh she and [my mother's sister in law] were real close.

Husband: I have no idea. I have no idea. But regardless I feel like, uh, you know, I know you feel like you've done your best to include her, and I know you've done things to include her, I...you know, I...I think there are times where she doesn't necessarily feel included. 

Fun Sink: Such as?

Husband: So, like, I think she would love to help set up for Passover. She has said to me many times, "Why doesn't...you know, why don't I get invited to set up for Passover? It's my thing. Like, I can help with the tables; I can help set up." And you always, you always say you don't need help, and you end up doing it, I guess with [cousin]. And you know, but sometimes [sister-in-law] comes over and helps set up, and I feel like that's one, that's just one example where I think it would be nice if she could, like, help you set up. I know you talk about how difficult it is to pull it off now. Like, let her help with that.

Fun Sink: You know, [dramatic pause] I understand your situation. That's all I can say. So...I don't want you to be in the middle of this, and...

Husband: Well, what does that—

Fun Sink: And I don't want hard feelings because... [sniffle] just...

Husband: Well what do you mean you understand my situation? Just that?

Fun Sink: That you're caught in the middle and I don't want to to be that way. [emotion]...But...

Husband: Well, let's just see what, you know, try to work through this stuff over time but, you I know, I...I...I...I don't know. I mean, I'm sorry that, uh, you don't feel appreciated, but, but I don't think that post was necessarily intended the way you might have taken it. I don't think she was trying to be mean about it, I think, I mean you're right. It could have been done in two sentences, maybe, but I think she was just trying to explain it. But...

Fun Sink: Well.

Husband: But, I understand and I, you know, I love you both, and I know how much you love the kids and so. And, I don't know. I don't want it to end up being this passive aggressive thing where if you're, if you do feel upset about something that you just keep it in and don't talk about it. It's better if we all just talk through it, or at least you and I talk, and I talk to Hunter if you all can't talk directly about it. 

Fun Sink: [crying] Well, I think that, uh, you know, it's probably me and I just need to go to a...counselor or somebody, because... [voice cracking with emotion]

Husband: I mean. I don't know. If you want to do something together, we can do like family therapy together if you want. I mean I don't think that's a bad idea; I think it could be helpful. You know, I think...I think, I know, I didn't realize in this situation that, that, that [Eldest] reached out to you and that you then told her to ask, um, [Twinkle] about it. I didn't understand the, like one of the things that [Twinkle] mentioned to me just because, since we're talking about it I kind of want your view on what actually happened, but when we were at Grandma's for her birthday, I think I was in the kitchen, and [Twinkle] afterwards was really upset and was crying at home, saying that you said "Pretty is as pretty does," multiple times and so, like, I don't know was that, like, a slight against her?

Fun Sink: Nooooooo.

Husband: So what?

Fun Sink: One of the kids was saying something, I don't even remember what they said, and I said, "Grandma always said, 'pretty is as pretty does.'"

Husband: Ohhhhhh. Ok. Yeah. Ok

Fun Sink: I was not—

Husband: See I mean that, that again. It's just a situation where people are taking things the way they might not have been been intended, so I don't know. I mean I'm. Look, I think it's helpful for us to talk and not keep things in side

Fun Sink: Honey. [bitter laughter] I have fifteen years worth of inside that you'll never know.

Husband: I'm sorry to hear that.

Fun Sink: [bitter laughter] Its...you know it's...I know you have to go so anyway.

Husband: What time is it? 

Fun Sink: Huh?

Husband: What times is it? Oh yeah. Yeah.

Fun Sink: Alright. We'll see you later.

Husband: Alright we'll see you tonight. Love you. Bye.

Twinke: Part VII—MIL Has Moved On! Back to Normal!

 This has happened before, enough times that it's a pattern. 

MIL freezes us out over something insignificant. We have our mandatory period of penance in which she won't speak to us and plays dramatic emotional games with us. Then it gets so bad that we give in to whatever she wants, there's a detente, and she moves forward normally as if nothing has happened.

We're now in the last phase, except I can't move on. 

At this point I think it would be helpful to review the timeline:

April 17. I send a text message that she doesn't like, asking her to include me on plans with my kids.

Radio silence from Fun Sink

April 23: "PRETTY IS AS PRETTY DOES!!!"

Radio silence from Fun Sink

May 10 Husband calls FIL to feel out the situation. FIL says he thinks the texts were "harsh," sides with Fun Sink. Tells husband to call Fun Sink.

May 11: Husband finally works up the courage to call Fun Sink. Tears. False accusations of family dysfunction in my family. Play happens evening of May 11; Fun Sink tries to act normal.

May 12: I get a friendly text about the trip to St. Louis. Fun Sink tries to get the girls over there for Friday night dinner, but it doesn't happen.

May 15: I meet with the rabbi; he gets a whole new view of Fun Sink.

May 17: Husband and I talk about St. Louis and I try to do the gracious thing and help my husband by agreeing to St. Louis. Husband calls parents to discuss plans for St. Louis. He fails to convey properly my act of selflessness and my feelings about all of it (or maybe they just chose not to see it; who can even know at this point?). Husband inexplicably tries to redirect inlaws to a different plan.

Feeling misunderstood, I sent a text trying to convey grace to inlaws and honesty about my true feelings:

"I felt like the St. Louis plan was sprung on me because [Husband] didn't mention the initial plan after discussing it with you all. I was sad about missing out on the time with the kids before they go to camp. I really miss them when they're gone, so finding out they would be gone for three days during those two weeks felt like a lot. 

I thought it was a good solution to join you all in St. Louis. If that works for you all, I'd love to move forward with that plan. Just let us know! Thanks!"

Radio silence.

May 18: Husband meets with therapist Megan. Pointlessly.

More radio silence.

That brings us to...May 19. Day 2 of the field hockey tournament. They didn't show up on Day 1, which was a blessed relief. 

So last night, May 19, we're at the field hockey tournament. I was laughing in the bleachers with my dad and some mom friends (including Julep, whose daughter is also playing in the tournament), when some sister drama broke out over a field hockey stick. I left to go fix the sister drama, and when I returned, Fun Sink and FIL were in the bleachers talking to my dad. I guess I wasn't expecting them to show up since they didn't the night before. I'm not going to sit in the bleachers with them like everything is normal, and I'm certainly not going to subject Daddy to an awkward situation. I got Daddy out and we watched the game from a closer location.

Aside: [Youngest] played a great game and scored her first ever goal! And this was only the second game she has ever played!

So, throughout the night, it was clear that Fun Sink was trying to make things normal. She was extra nice to Daddy—for once she didn't yell out loud, Tourette's style nonsequiturs about rabbis or Shabbat or other Jewish stuff, which she normally does, to let my dad know that she is definitely Jewish and weird about it. She was smiling; she was trying to be sweet the way she does; she was definitely on her best behavior. During [Middle's] game, she even made her one of characteristic comments about how big the other team's girls were. "They must be feeding those girls HORMONES or something!!!" I mean we can't all be 80 lb anorexic anemic vegans with schoolmarm haircuts like my SIL, but that is Fun Sink's gold standard for how a girl should be. I think it's incredibly rude to comment on the size of individuals or teams, especially 6th grade girls. Also, the other team was cute, blonde, and normal. And they're also the best team in town so they crushed us, and it was because they practice all the time and work hard. It had nothing to do with growth hormones.

The games went well, and I avoided Fun Sink as much as I possibly could. When I got home, there was a response to my heartfelt St. Louis text! A friendly (for her) response!

Fun Sink: "It will be a mini family vaca. [SIL] will join us. We will discuss details later. Thanks!

OK. 

So everything is normal and we're all going to St. Louis. 

No acknowledgement of my valid feelings on the matter. No acknowledgement of the past five weeks' silent treatment on her part. Everything is totally normal! We can forget all that unpleasantness I perpetrated with my unreasonable and demanding initial request to be included on communication, and the almost five weeks of emotional abuse that followed. Moving on! All that is ancient history! Now we're forging ahead with a fun family vaca to St. Louis! We never have to speak of all this unpleasantness (caused by me) ever again.

Since she's ready to move on, if I were to say "um. No. We're not finished here," I know how it would go, and I would be seen as the jerk who holds grudges and perpetuates drama and is actually the real problem here. 

This family has been gaslighting me since '06.

Twinkle: Part VI—Husband Explores Mommy Issues in Much-Needed Therapy Sesh

My husband is going to therapy today, to discuss the text message and the sh*tstorm that followed. I thought it might be a good idea if I came along. 

My husband used to have this therapist, Rick, who would let me join in on sessions. The sessions with Rick were related to my husband's work stress, but I went along sometimes and it was fine. The sessions mostly consisted of Rick talking about himself, about how rich and influential and high society his family was, but how he had eschewed all that for the life of a humble mental health worker. Covid happened, and my husband drifted away from Rick. We do overlap socially somewhat with Rick; he's nice, but it's kind of weird that he knows our business.

So...now my husband goes to Megan. This is a new development because he was feeling stressed with work this winter. I thought Megan might let me join a therapy session, like Rick did. Since my husband is a shit communicator and definitely won't be able to convey what is going on to her, I thought this might be a good idea, because we need help. 

Megan said no. 

Megan doesn't do joint therapy sessions. 

Megan only sees couples if the other half of the couple brings their own therapist along, and the other therapist has to be someone who works in her same practice.

Megan feels that allowing me to join today would be "unethical."

Megan believes that since she and [Husband] have already developed a therapy relationship, I might feel ganged up on.

And to that I say, WAKE THE FUCK UP, MEGAN.

My husband and I are on the same page on this issue. We're not at odds here. We both know his mom is a self-righteous bitch, and now Megan has revealed to us that she is one, too. Does Megan actually believe that she and my husband could make me feel any more ganged up on than I have felt in sixteen years of marriage? I assure you that whatever ganging up on feeling I would have experienced in that therapy session would have paled in comparison to my daily interactions of being ganged up on that I endure with my husband and his insane family. 

WHO DOES MEGAN THINK SHE IS? Between the two of us, Megan and I might have been able to begin to help [Husband] sort some of these issues out, but now it's going to take ten times as long because he won't adequately be able to communicate the problem. I don't care how much time Megan and [Husband] waste, because insurance pays for Megan, but we sort of need help today. Now. Three weeks ago. Last week. Yesterday. We need help.

Thanks for nothing, Megan. 

Twinkle: Part V—Trying Hard, Doing It Wrong, and Getting Zero Credit and All the Blame. Again

My husband and I talked last night. I was and still am just...stunned...at the way this plan for St. Louis was communicated and received. I was trying to swallow my pride, be the more gracious person, and help to repair the relationship going forward. (The very relationship that I did nothing to damage, other than send an ill-received text message about wanting to know my kids' plans.)

I decided to prove my good faith by sending another casual yet friendly text message, which attempted to convey my real attitude toward the whole thing. I could have mentioned a few points: that this all started with a text message in which I made a reasonable request; that the the three (now four) weeks of silence were uncalled for; that it was hurtful when MIL didn't speak to me at GMIL's house other than to yell "pretty is as pretty does" in my direction, that the lies my MIL told about my family and me as she cried to my husband about how hard she had tried were incredibly hurtful.

I mentioned NONE of that. In a good-faith, honest, and gracious effort at reconciliation, here is what I said:

Hi—I'm not sure that what [Husband] and I talked about regarding St. Louis was properly conveyed.

I felt like the St. Louis plan was sprung on me because [Husband] didn't mention the initial plan after discussing it with you all. I was sad about missing out on the time with the kids before they go to camp. I really miss them when they're gone, so finding out they would be gone for three days during those two weeks felt like a lot. 

I thought it was a good solution to join you all in St. Louis. If that works for you all, I'd love to move forward with that plan. Just let us know! Thanks!

I don't want to go to St. Louis, but I'll do it if we can move past this absolutely bonkers episode and have things be halfway normal. I hate this plan, but I love my husband. If he thinks this is a way forward, I'll do that for him. I don't even see it as giving in; I honestly see it as a lesson in humility and grace that I can learn from. I see it as a stumbling point in my marriage that can sanctify me to be more loving to difficult people that I am stuck with.

Also, I see that text messages may not be the best way to talk to these people. I tend to prefer texts simply because they often take my actions and words the wrong way, so at least if it's there in writing, I have some proof of what I said. 

I was actually scared to wake up and look at my phone this morning, for fear at what I had done wrong with this attempt to lighten the mood casually, and also capitulate to their demands, in a way I could live with. They haven't responded, which tells me I have erred. Gravely.

Twinkle: Part IV—I Am Tired. So Tired.

 So today my husband called his sister. He presented the Nashville plan. She agreed that it was a good idea, and she said it would be fine with her if this was the plan, but it wasn't something she wasn't going to stick her neck out for. I wasn't someone she was going to stick her neck out for. 

He reminded her that we had her back when she moved to Memphis. She said she knew, but she couldn't back us up on this one. It was too risky, and she and BIL didn't want to deal with the fallout with Fun Sink. So that hurt.

Tonight he was finally going to call his parents and talk about St. Louis. We talked about what he was going to say. I was firm that I didn't want them to go, but I asked my husband what his perfect solution would be. I asked him what solution he thought was best going forward. I really tried to listen to his perspective, and be open to his ideas.

He said he thought that if I agreed to let the kids go to St. Louis, it would open up a productive conversation that I want him to have with them about all the issues: communication, my family, my role in the family as a mother, etc. I decided to swallow my pride and be gracious. I decided to agree to let them go to St. Louis, but I wanted it to be presented from the lens of my perspective: that I'm sad when they go to camp, that three days out of those precious two weeks are a lot, that I made a reasonable request, was then frozen out for three weeks, that no one communicated the plan to me, but I was willing to do the gracious thing in the interest of going forward and moving the family past this.

This is not what he conveyed at all. Of course.

I really think the lack of communication is a HUGE part of this family's problem. It's not the only problem—Fun Sink is still a judgy bitch who assumes the worst of everyone, thinks she knows best, and has to control everything—but communication is a huge part of the puzzle.

The way he communicated it to them was not "this is Twinkle's perspective, but she's willing to compromise because she wants to be gracious and heal the family." Instead MIL was like "is there a problem with St. Louis?" And my husband was like, "Twinkle really doesn't want them to go; can we stay here instead and do a night in Nashville instead?" And then they reluctantly agreed to give in to my unreasonable demands, because they will do anything to promote family harmony. Anything. After all, she has tried so hard. SO. HARD. I'm the crazy person, issuing crazy demands again. They are the poor longsuffering martyrs who will do anything—anything—to appease their son's unreasonable wife.

Sigh. 

I am exhausted.

Twinkle: Part III—Recent SIL History

 Yesterday my husband finally talked to his sister. She was sympathetic; she gets annoyed with Fun Sink, too.

A few years ago, SIL's husband got a job here. They were going to move here. He was living with my inlaws while the kids finished the schoolyear in Connecticut. She came down on weekends to look for houses and schools. It all looked like it was going to work out...until my SIL's husband got a better job, in Memphis, where his family is from. 

So instead of them moving here and all of Fun Sink's dreams coming true, they moved to Memphis instead, essentially choosing his family over hers. It's a shame because I love my niece and nephew. My niece is the only person in this extended family who truly gets me and appreciates my whole fun and frivolous outlook on life. I would have loved to have her live here, but I'm so glad she's a little bit closer than she was when she lived in Connecticut.

I think it was a combination of the Memphis job being better, the terrible schools here (you basically have to go private in this town), the fact that my BIL's family is lovely, and I think that Fun Sink's controlling tendencies also played a role in it. 

After they announced that they were moving to Memphis instead, my BIL was still living with them. Fun Sink was terrible to him. She really damaged her relationship with him by the cruel way she treated him, and in doing so she hurt my SIL and damaged that relationship, too. She can't get out of her own way and just let people live their lives...and the irony is that maybe if she could, they would have actually wanted to live here.

During all this, my husband and I had my SIL's and BIL's backs. Our attitude was that they have to live their own lives and make the best decisions for their family. We were nice to them about it. We defended them to Fun Sink. We tried to minimize the drama for their sake to help Fun Sink move on.

So yesterday SIL's advice was...get this. She thinks I should offer to help plan the trip to St. Louis. I'm sure Fun Sink, who has never so much as let me set the table for a family meal would LOVE to let me help plan the fun grandparents' weekend in St. Louis. This would accomplish nothing; I don't want to help plan it. I don't want it to happen. All I want is for them to ask my permission for things like this, and I'd like to be treated like a human being, worthy of basic respect, going forward. 

My husband brought up to SIL how Fun Sink never lets me help set up for holidays when the rest of the family is invited to help. SIL said that maybe Fun Sink thinks I'm just offering to help because I think I have to but not because I really want to. I want to explore this more because I think this is a huge reflection on Fun Sink's own psychological makeup. And also...ever hear of assuming the best intentions from someone? But we'll have to unpack that another day because there is just not time for this digression right now.

After my husband and I talked about it, I suggested this plan for the grandparents weekend: two nights here, one day and/or night in Nashville. We can meet SIL in Nashville on both the front and back ends to get her kids here so she doesn't have to drive the whole way. It's a shorter drive for everyone. The family still gets to see each other. I get to feel like I have some say in the situation. I don't have to send my kids away for three days during the short window before they're going to leave for a long stay at camp. We'd present this to Fun Sink as a united front of parents who get to make decisions about their children's plans and lives. 

So while we were talking about it, I had my husband send a quick text proposing this plan to SIL and BIL. He laid out the details, I chimed in that we'd help get their kids to and from here so that their drive wasn't too long. 

No response.

We had our back when they moved to Memphis, but they want no part of having our back now.

Now you're all caught up. We'll see what happens today...

To be continued...

Twinkle: Part II—Mothers Day

So after my husband and Fun Sink talked, and she was able to cry and get in her talking points about how crazy I am and what a bad family I'm from, she felt that everything was back to normal. We saw her at the play. 

Oh. Another thing she said in the weeping phone call was that I have never thanked her. Never. Not once. Ever. This is also not true. I am PROFUSE in my thanks to her. I'm so profuse that she has a standard (annoying) response every time I say thank you: "our pleasure." The fact that she has a canned response to my thanks is proof that I say thank you A LOT. 

OK. So at the play I thanked her for being there. After the play I sent a few pictures to the family group chat and again thanked her for being there. She seems to think everything is normal now, so she then sent a big itinerary for St. Louis to my husband, my SIL, and me. (Again. Communication. My FIL and my SIL's husband weren't on there. Every adult affected by the trip should have been copied, too). No one answered her text; my SIL knows there's trouble; she wants no part of it. My husband knows I don't want them to go to St. Louis but is terrified to speak up. I'm certainly not going to be the one to transgress over text again by breaking the bad news.

This brings us to Mothers Day. I peaced out and went to a nice hotel with some school moms on Sat. night, which gave me an excuse to miss brunch with her on Sunday. The kids said she said, "Ask mommy when I can take you all shopping," which tells me she has missed the entire point of all of it.

She sent a very nice Mothers Day present to me. It is a really pretty piece of blue and white Chinese porcelain, exactly my taste. So weird. She has never cared about my taste before. I sent her a text to thank her, letting her know it is exactly my taste. She sent a nice text back about how when she saw it she thought of me, and she knows Mothers Day is a hard day because of my mom. (Yeah...and you're making it even harder, Fun Sink!) I think this is what her "trying SO HARD" looks like. And, I do like the gift. It's on my dining room table right now and it looks really pretty. But I also can't be bought off with Chinese porcelain. The nice gift doesn't change the fact that she lied about my family and tried to manipulate my husband with her tears over a text message that she didn't like. A text message in which I simply asked her to let me know what my kids' plans are.

I'm glossing over it here for the sake of time and of recording a completely ridiculous, convoluted story, but I have been emotionally just a wreck during all this. I cried the whole night of "pretty is as pretty does." I was shaking with anger when I heard about the phone call where she accused my mother of never wanting to go around my father's family, and saying I'm the same way. I have been so deeply hurt and upset by all of this. There is no going back to normal after what she said. 

My husband is busy with work, tired of the whole thing, terrified of her, and would like to avoid it. I can't move on. St. Louis cannot happen, because you can't just treat me like this and then announce to me that you're taking my kids on a trip. Also, for the hundredth time: NO ONE ASKED ME. My husband can't seem to tell her this, and I'm afraid she's going to start booking visits to attractions, and then it's going to be worse when we tell her it's not happening because she will have spent a bunch of money on it. Either that, or I'll have to suck it up again and just let her take my kids to St. Louis because no one can stand up to her. That's looking more and more likely, because no one will speak up. It can't be me, because I don't have enough (any) authority in the family, and she would just cry and twist it the way middle school mean girls do. It has to be my husband. 

I need help. I need reinforcements.

That was what led me to call the rabbi.

I met with him on Monday. I could have called my priest; I'm sure he would have had advice about loving her and praying for her (which I have also tried to do), but it was more fun to let the rabbi know how truly awful she is. They work closely with the whole Jewish Sunday School program. The rabbi is a young, recently married guy. He LOVES me and has been waiting for me to reach out to him for his rabbinical services since he moved here more than a year ago. So he was happy to meet with me, and it went well. He was like, "First of all, (intense eye contact), I believe you." Classic post-#MeToo moment. He had the classic response of my choices: either I can vent to him, he can help me with solutions, or he can refer me to a professional counselor. It was good to get his take on it, and I accomplished the real goal of letting him know what an actual monster she is. She would die if she knew. She would be mortified. But I was just seeking the much-needed counsel of a respected clergy member. 

Things are getting convoluted, so let's follow the timeline one more time.

April 17. I send a text message that she doesn't like, asking her to include me on plans with my kids.

Radio silence from Fun Sink

April 23: "PRETTY IS AS PRETTY DOES!!!"

Radio silence from Fun Sink

May 10 (I forgot this part): Husband calls FIL to feel out the situation. FIL says he thinks the texts were "harsh," sides with Fun Sink. Tells husband to call Fun Sink.

May 11: Husband finally works up the courage to call Fun Sink. Tears. False accusations of family dysfunction. Play happens evening of May 11.

May 12: I get a friendly text about the trip to St. Louis. Fun Sink tries to get the girls over there for Friday night dinner, but it doesn't happen.

May 15: I meet with the rabbi; he gets a whole new view of Fun Sink.

Allow me to reiterate that all this is over a text message.

Next time I'll fill y'all in on a little bit of SIL history in recent years, and relay how she fits into the ongoing saga...

To be continued...