Guest blogger mom-on-the-edge: This year, over Thanksgiving, my in-laws treated me like an outlaw.
Well, my mother-in-law to be specific.
My crime? Being on the verge of divorce with her beloved son. He could do no wrong so, of course, it had to be me. I was the bad wife and I needed to be punished.
In the past, she would kindly consult me on the menu, offering up alternatives if need be. They have discerning tastes, like fancy food. I'm more simple. This year, they served a pancetta and lamb ragout and even the guacamole appetizer had blue cheese in it. I ate white rice and plain chips.
My husband and I were spending the night. When I asked his mom what her plans were for the next day, she said she was going on a shopping adventure with his sister and his brother's girlfriend. I waited for an invitation. Nope. Maybe she'd ask me to join along tomorrow...
The three women were chattering about in the kitchen, excited to use their family and friends coupon at Kiehl's. They talked about where to have lunch ... and then they waved good-bye as they left.
When his mom returned, I tried to engage her in a friendly conversation. "I have to go pack," she said. "Where are you going?" "We leave for Mexico in the morning." I was stunned. His mom never planned anything last minute and she would always call me two, sometimes three times a day fretting over every little detail. We were friends and I was there to listen. Nope. Not this year.
Her son and I were the first to get married. The first to have a grandchild, a son no less to carry on their family name. I used to be treated like a Queen. Now, I was seen as the Queen Bee-yotch.