Peace on the small levels
This weekend, something very stressful will be happening for me. My in-laws are coming to town, and of course we'll be spending time with them. Now, this doesn't have to be a scary thing. My mom and her mother-in-law get along very well and frequently visit each other.
Now, we're getting along better than we did when my in-laws told their son, in front of me, not to marry me and that we'd be divorced within 5 years. Not the best beginning, I'm afraid. And I do my best to understand that part of it is a fear that they've lost their son. But it still hurts.
And I'm aware that I will never be the sophisticated, worldly type that they dreamed of for their sons. I still don't wear black to weddings. I prefer eating at little hole-in-the-wall local places to eating at the $50 a plate places frequented by lobbyists and politicians. For starters, at the little places, there's a wider variety of people. And the pasta is better.
But it's not about whose choices are better, is it? It's about learning to appreciate each other. It's about not putting my poor husband in the middle of a tug of war that he would inevitably lose. So tonight, I wear the clothes I have that I think are the closest to what they would like me to wear without buying anything new and I eat at a restaurant with an upscale atmosphere. And I worry about whether she will like the card I made for her with a very pop art theme, and the glass bracelet I picked out for her in a trip with her sons. And I muddle through, hoping that we all want peace badly enough that we can spend a weekend together amicably.
Now, we're getting along better than we did when my in-laws told their son, in front of me, not to marry me and that we'd be divorced within 5 years. Not the best beginning, I'm afraid. And I do my best to understand that part of it is a fear that they've lost their son. But it still hurts.
And I'm aware that I will never be the sophisticated, worldly type that they dreamed of for their sons. I still don't wear black to weddings. I prefer eating at little hole-in-the-wall local places to eating at the $50 a plate places frequented by lobbyists and politicians. For starters, at the little places, there's a wider variety of people. And the pasta is better.
But it's not about whose choices are better, is it? It's about learning to appreciate each other. It's about not putting my poor husband in the middle of a tug of war that he would inevitably lose. So tonight, I wear the clothes I have that I think are the closest to what they would like me to wear without buying anything new and I eat at a restaurant with an upscale atmosphere. And I worry about whether she will like the card I made for her with a very pop art theme, and the glass bracelet I picked out for her in a trip with her sons. And I muddle through, hoping that we all want peace badly enough that we can spend a weekend together amicably.
posted by Plain Foolish | 10:04 AM
2 Comments:
Okay, I take it back about the pasta. The mushroom pasta was really really good. The owner was even a sweetie about getting me an antipasto plate without the least hint of peppers. And we all ate together like civilized people.
Only, as we left the restaurant, the bar television was blaring news about a shooting in Seattle. Oy. So much progress and yet so little.
Well, sometimes you just have to take the inch, right?
Hope the visit went well.
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