Tenacious B
Well, here we are in Missouri. Everything is in half-ass mode. We're kinda set up here at the shop, we have about 1/2 our stuff unpacked in the 7/8 done house (still needs a shower curtain, caulk, a bathroom door, baseboards, window casings, etc.), and most of our stuff is here.
The only thing really working, at 100% capacity, is my mother-in-law, Beth. On my last nerve.
She has this quirky thing about challenging my (not so much Kevin's) parental authority on many levels. Every frickin' day. She did this, in freakish abundance, when we lived here before. This was back in 2000-2002, when Stevie was brand new and she was living out her misguided fantasy of being the 'wise ol' grandma' to our 'bumbling-kid new parents'. I'll save you a really long-ass story, but you should know that it was definitely a problem that marred our (hers and mine) relationship, and the memory of it--and the possibility of it happening again--has been my biggest source of anxiety about moving back. Think about that--I've just left a secure job with many benefits, put a house that I love on a tepid market, moved away from family and friends, and started a business with nothing more than a few hundred dollars left in the bank...and SHE is my biggest source of stress.
It can be little things. I go to change Marky's wet diaper. She says, "He doesn't need a diaper change right now." This has happened twice already, and we've been here 7 days. This happened after he got yet another diaper rash within 2 days of being here (and being cared for by her and my father-in-law) because they don't change him often enough. In fact, Mark ALWAYS gets a diaper rash when they babysit.
It can be more serious. I tell Stevie that he's coming to the shop with Daddy and me so he can see all the stuff we've done and check out his little space with the paper and the markers and the what-not. He says OK. I say go get your shoes. He realizes that the only shoes available require tying. He can't tie his shoes and has built up a lot of anxiety over this fact. He suddenly says "Um, I'm just going to stay here". Knowing exactly why he changed his mind, I say, "No, you're coming. Just get your shoes and I'll help you." He says, "I don't want to go! Why do I have to go?!" I say, "Stevie, just get your shoes. You're going to like what we've done."
Then she says...are you ready for this? "He doesn't have to go if he doesn't want to."
And this I've heard before.
I say, "Uh, actually, yes he does. The reason for his change of heart is his shoes."
Sure enough, he stomps to the car but, when he sees the now-functioning office in the shop, with his little stuff, he is delighted. He grabs the pad and a colored pencil (that I, in my wisdom, have set aside for him) and goes around making a list of "improvements" to the shop. He has so much fun that he doesn't want to leave. When Kevin heads to the shop the next morning, he asks to go. Funny how I know my own kids, huh?
"He doesn't have to go if he doesn't want to." Can you believe that shit?
The worst one was yesterday, when we were out shopping with the kids. She plunks Marky into the shopping cart and takes off. I say, "He needs his belt on" (the little strap that helps secure kids in the cart. She puts it on. In the course of 45 minutes at Lowe's, Marky, the 1 1/2 year old, gets fidgety in his cart seat. She chalks this up to the belt. So then we go next door to get some groceries. She plunks him in his cart and takes off. I say "He needs his belt on".
Then SHE says...are you ready for this? "He doesn't need it." while she rolls away.
Momentarily stunned that yes, this is really happening again, and what the fuck am I doing here, and stupidly trying to keep the peace, I say "Well, you need to stay right in front of him".
And now I'm pissed at her and at myself for putting my kid's safety aside to keep the peace, and for being in this situation in the first place (how many of you out there--esp. you grandparents--would do this crap?), and just for having to deal with her in general.
This morning when I had a chance, I said, "Beth, will you do me a favor? Will you just strap him into the carts when you take him shopping?" Was that a little smile of embarrassment on her face? Surprise? "Sure" she said. And I felt better. But not totally.
When all this kind of stuff went down before, I vented to friends and family and they always said "You're just going to have to be the better woman here." Well, that's true. But I'm also going to have to be a manager. I was talking to Flip about her management duties and made the comment that managing is all about learning how to treat people to get the best out of them/make them better. I know--stunning insight. This is a management situation. And a tricky one (or else so simple that I'm not seeing it.) I have to manage my mother-in-law. And I can't fuck it up or it might be unbearable, because, unfortunately, I can't just fire her ass for insubordination. (That'd be so awesome!) But she's on my list, and I'm going to have to harden up to deal with her. And doesn't it suck that I have to do that? But, as I wrote that last sentence, it almost fully sunk in that, yes, I do, and just shut-up and deal with it.
Dangit.
The only thing really working, at 100% capacity, is my mother-in-law, Beth. On my last nerve.
She has this quirky thing about challenging my (not so much Kevin's) parental authority on many levels. Every frickin' day. She did this, in freakish abundance, when we lived here before. This was back in 2000-2002, when Stevie was brand new and she was living out her misguided fantasy of being the 'wise ol' grandma' to our 'bumbling-kid new parents'. I'll save you a really long-ass story, but you should know that it was definitely a problem that marred our (hers and mine) relationship, and the memory of it--and the possibility of it happening again--has been my biggest source of anxiety about moving back. Think about that--I've just left a secure job with many benefits, put a house that I love on a tepid market, moved away from family and friends, and started a business with nothing more than a few hundred dollars left in the bank...and SHE is my biggest source of stress.
It can be little things. I go to change Marky's wet diaper. She says, "He doesn't need a diaper change right now." This has happened twice already, and we've been here 7 days. This happened after he got yet another diaper rash within 2 days of being here (and being cared for by her and my father-in-law) because they don't change him often enough. In fact, Mark ALWAYS gets a diaper rash when they babysit.
It can be more serious. I tell Stevie that he's coming to the shop with Daddy and me so he can see all the stuff we've done and check out his little space with the paper and the markers and the what-not. He says OK. I say go get your shoes. He realizes that the only shoes available require tying. He can't tie his shoes and has built up a lot of anxiety over this fact. He suddenly says "Um, I'm just going to stay here". Knowing exactly why he changed his mind, I say, "No, you're coming. Just get your shoes and I'll help you." He says, "I don't want to go! Why do I have to go?!" I say, "Stevie, just get your shoes. You're going to like what we've done."
Then she says...are you ready for this? "He doesn't have to go if he doesn't want to."
And this I've heard before.
I say, "Uh, actually, yes he does. The reason for his change of heart is his shoes."
Sure enough, he stomps to the car but, when he sees the now-functioning office in the shop, with his little stuff, he is delighted. He grabs the pad and a colored pencil (that I, in my wisdom, have set aside for him) and goes around making a list of "improvements" to the shop. He has so much fun that he doesn't want to leave. When Kevin heads to the shop the next morning, he asks to go. Funny how I know my own kids, huh?
"He doesn't have to go if he doesn't want to." Can you believe that shit?
The worst one was yesterday, when we were out shopping with the kids. She plunks Marky into the shopping cart and takes off. I say, "He needs his belt on" (the little strap that helps secure kids in the cart. She puts it on. In the course of 45 minutes at Lowe's, Marky, the 1 1/2 year old, gets fidgety in his cart seat. She chalks this up to the belt. So then we go next door to get some groceries. She plunks him in his cart and takes off. I say "He needs his belt on".
Then SHE says...are you ready for this? "He doesn't need it." while she rolls away.
Momentarily stunned that yes, this is really happening again, and what the fuck am I doing here, and stupidly trying to keep the peace, I say "Well, you need to stay right in front of him".
And now I'm pissed at her and at myself for putting my kid's safety aside to keep the peace, and for being in this situation in the first place (how many of you out there--esp. you grandparents--would do this crap?), and just for having to deal with her in general.
This morning when I had a chance, I said, "Beth, will you do me a favor? Will you just strap him into the carts when you take him shopping?" Was that a little smile of embarrassment on her face? Surprise? "Sure" she said. And I felt better. But not totally.
When all this kind of stuff went down before, I vented to friends and family and they always said "You're just going to have to be the better woman here." Well, that's true. But I'm also going to have to be a manager. I was talking to Flip about her management duties and made the comment that managing is all about learning how to treat people to get the best out of them/make them better. I know--stunning insight. This is a management situation. And a tricky one (or else so simple that I'm not seeing it.) I have to manage my mother-in-law. And I can't fuck it up or it might be unbearable, because, unfortunately, I can't just fire her ass for insubordination. (That'd be so awesome!) But she's on my list, and I'm going to have to harden up to deal with her. And doesn't it suck that I have to do that? But, as I wrote that last sentence, it almost fully sunk in that, yes, I do, and just shut-up and deal with it.
Dangit.
posted by lulu | 11:40 AM
2 Comments:
I'm sorry that things with the M-i-L are rocky from the jump, but I'm sure you'll find a way to make it work out.
(Just keep telling yourself that you are awesome and those are YOUR kids. She's had her chance . . .)
Thanks for the post. We're thinking about you and I weep a bit every time I walk by your darkened office. (The name plate is still up to taunt us all.)
You made my day by choosing to write, keeping us all in the loop, assuaging my guilt for not holding up my end, and giving me a timely heads-up regarding extended family protocol. This could prompt an entire post, and my wheels are turning. Long story short, your inner gyroscope is telling you when to speak up and right the ship, and all of you are breaking new ground...rummaging my mind for a title for your memoir of leaving central swingstate to build your dreams at Hot Waffles...
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