Bean Madonna

Creating and establishing relationships with your in-laws is most likely one of the trickiest experiences of adulthood - especially for women.

It has been my experience that women serve the emotional synapses of family structure - and not only do we struggle with the responsibility to maintain all these relationships on an even keel, we have to remain a constant for our husbands (or partners) as the tie between mother and son is severed even more.

Despite all her insane and ridiculous behavior, there was a few moments during this week's visit that I felt compassion for my MIL. That's right - I felt some kind of mothery weird bond thing perhaps that seemed like it could develop into more friendly feelings down the road.

I can see how hard it is for her to let go of her children - and I looked from the MIL to my sleeping daughter and instinctively knew that one day, I would be in a similar position. I understand her need to desperately cling to whatever she can with Handsome, to try to remain on some level of importance with him - to try to retain some sense of control.

I *understand* it - emotionally. I think.

So back to the warm feelings:
I felt kind of bad for her this week when the In-Laws came into town to assist with the closing on our new house, and the mixture of pride they felt for their son's success and sadness that he has his own life apart from them had them in tears.
Literally.
It was a little weird.

Of course, there were a few cups of champagne tossed in there as well...which tuned into a bottle of wine and martinis at dinner...which turned into MIL yelling at the waiter that she wants to have SEX with her husband tonight...AND....AND....
and that she has secretly baptized the Bean already since she was "worried about her soul".

That would probably be the point at which I stopped feeling any compassion. Or tolerance. Or hope.

God Help Us All if that really happened. God Help Me for feeling like I might be able to have a real relationship with this woman. God Help the Bean for having such a crazy grandmother.

If Mr. Ecko can perform a baptism on a stranded island, what's to say that my MIL didn't use toilet water or something in the restaurant to bless my Bean?

Perhaps I shouldn't have ended my therapy sessions just yet.