Moms

I'm 22 and out on my own for the first time in my life. I have a low paying job and the world's smallest apartment. It was a good time. The oddest part was not having to report to anyone. One night after work a few co-workers and I decide to grab a cocktail or twelve before heading home - it seemed unnatural to leave work and not tell someone I wasn't going straight home. So, I called my mom.

Me: Hi, Mom, I'm just letting you know I'm not going straight home.
Mom: What??
Me: It's ok. A few of us are going out to grab a margarita at Chi Chi's and then I'm going home.
Mom: Why are you telling me this?
Me: [pregnant pause] I'm not really sure. But I promise to be careful.
Mom: Well, Ok then.
Me: I won't be out late.
Mom: I. Don't. Care.

Yes, I was a little hurt. She's my mom and she should care. I'm just sayin'.

Now, don't get me wrong, I adore my children - but before I had them, I had some serious fun. And then when I was 27 I got married and had my first of many (2) children. I had just turned 30 when my daughter was born; it was understood I would quit my job and become a stay-at-home mom. The world was calm and peaceful. I bought a jogging stroller and ran through the neighborhood everyday with baby Alli. Life at 30 wasn't the same as life at 22, but it was relatively nice. Alas, there came a bump in the road...

I was awakened one morning by the sound of the house shaking. The floor split open and flames shot up. I grabbed my baby girl and huddled in the corner as the devil rose from the pits of hell. I'd seen a lot of pictures of the devil - you know, dressed in red, horns, long tail, etc, etc, etc. But the devil that entered my house was wearing a double knit polyester pantsuit and bad wig. Baby Alli and I were informed that the devil was moving in. And we wept. Ok, I wept. Oh, how I freakin wept.

I know everyone has stories about how bad their mother-in-law is/was/can be, but my stories, I'm sure, are worse. The woman never stopped talking! Long, boring, pointless stories - well, I believe in total she had only 3 stories, so, she kept repeating them over and over until you wanted to rip the wig off her head and smack her with it. She liked to look out the window while she talked and one day I realized: I can leave the room while she's talking and she would never notice. And that's what I would do.

What was worse than having to listen to my mother-in-law? Actually having a conversation with her. Here's a sampling of a few:

Me: I'm making chicken for dinner tonight.
MIL: Stop using pepper when you cook, because I'm allergic to it.
Me: What? No, you aren't! How are you allergic to pepper?
MIL: It makes me sneeze.
Me: It seems the whole world is allergic to pepper then.
MIL: I don't like sarcasm - it's not funny.

(Driving out to eat.)
MIL: Did you see that huge dead dog in the middle of the road?
Me: No, that was just a flattened cardboard box.
MIL: I KNOW WHAT I SAW AND THAT WAS A DAMN DEAD DOG DON'T TELL ME I DON'T KNOW WHAT I SAW BECAUSE THAT WAS SO OBVIOUSLY A DAMN DEAD DOG YOU THINK I'M SO STUPID I DON'T KNOW WHAT A DAMN DEAD DOG IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD LOOKS LIKE?
Me: Obviously not, because that was a cardboard box.
(Husband turns car around and we freakin' drive back to the box in the road.)
MIL: Well, that's not what I was talking about. I saw a dead dog and it's gone now.
Me: I'm sure it magically got better and ran away.
MIL: I don't like sarcasm - it's not funny.

Me: I hate to tear myself away from your always entertaining story, but I have to feed the baby.
MIL: Why are you breast feeding my grandchild?
Me: Because I think I read somewhere that if you don't feed a baby it will die.
MIL: I don't like sarcasm - it's not funny.
Me: I didn't know that.
MIL: Baby formula is much better for a baby than breast milk.
Me: What? Where did you hear this?
MIL: When I had my babies the hospital nurse told me I should not breast feed, because it's not good for the baby.
Me: She probably only meant you, because you act like someone all whacked out on PCP.
MIL: What?
Me: That was sarcasm - and it was funny.