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.
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