Not Stereotypical

I am hispanic. I have brown hair and brown eyes. My sister has red hair and brown eyes. My dad has brown hair and blue eyes…

You get the picture. We’re people, not stereotypes.

MIL     “Your son has brown hair.”
Me      “Actually, right now it’s strawberry blond. But I bet it turns brown, too.”
MIL     “No, it’s brown. Look.”
Me      “Um, yeah. Looks kinda blond.”

Later:

MIL    “Why is his hair blond in this photo?”
Me     “Um… Cuz it’s blond?”

She still thinks I photoshopped that one.

Litany

(Housekeeping Note: Normally I would have tried to break this up into smaller stories, but I could tell that this Sane In-Law is really feeling the pressure and needs some support from you other Sane In-Laws.) 

For the last three years I have had to put up with a demanding, ungrateful FIL and his psycho daughter and I have had it.  Of course, the MIL was no gem either.  Every time they came for a visit they would stay for six weeks or longer.  My only saving grace was a barn full of horses, so I had a great excuse not to hang with them. 

One year the MIL decided to have a birthday party for the dad, invited all the relatives, then told me her plans afterwards.  As if my input wasn’t valid even though it was my home she was giving the party in. 

Another time I woke up one morning to find MIL had rearranged my front room and kitchen, because she and an other relative were playing cards and couldn’t be bothered to watch the two year old that was running amok.  My husband’s comment was, “Oh, they won’t be around much longer…” 

Well, ha, the FIL is going on and on like the energizer bunny with no end in sight.  The MIL died three years ago and my husband really wanted his dad to come live with us.  I always thought the MIL was the horrid one,  well I certainly got a wakeup call.

We moved out of state about four years ago, and this started six months after that.  Hubby made numerous trips to get things squared away for his dad and during these trips found out a grandson was living, actually sponging off the FIL.  He didn’t have a job, used FIL’s car to get around and didn’t do a thing around the house to earn his keep.  The house was a total disaster and FIL’s financial status was a mess. 

So hubby spent months, literally months, talking to attorneys, getting his dad through bankruptcy (he lost his house and would’ve ended up on the street), getting the move organized and multiple other tasks.  Keep in mind we had just moved, the place we bought needed mega work, we had to build a barn, paint the house inside and out, make repairs and the list goes on, so I end up doing most of this alone cause hubby is dealing with FIL in another state. 

Then during all of this the SIL decides she has to be with her father and wants to move
also.  So she comes up on one of the many trips FIL and hubby make and what a piece of work she is.  Doesn’t offer to help, just sits around and does NOTHING.  The only saving grace is the dad has a 38 foot motor home and they stay in there. 

After that trip, which hubby has to drive FIL back and forth in the monster motor home, I told hubby I do not want SIL here again.  So finally after eight months of going back and forth, flying, driving and whatever, the FIL is being driven in the motor home once again to stay. 

Hubby calls me a couple of times and I can tell something is up, but he keeps insisting all is well.  Well, I am sitting outside on my ATV talking with a neighbor when I see the motor home approaching.  I’m glad hubby is home safely and he pulls into the driveway.  Oddly enough, another car pulls into the driveway as well and I turn to my neighbor and say, “I wonder who that is?”  The neighbor gives me a funny look and says, “Isn’t that SIL?”  I am livid, so much so that I drive off on the ATV claiming I need to check the irrigation water at the far end of the property. 

When I return, everyone is out of the motor home talking with our neighbor and I give hubby a look to die for.  He tells me SIL decided to come then and there and he didn’t want to tell me ’cause he didn’t want me to be upset while he was gone.  Oh come on, what kinda lame excuse is that?  I am angry and rightly so,  I should have some sort of say as to who lives on my property and who doesn’t.  At least one would think so.
 
And the real tragedy on all of this is that hubby and I were really getting along the best we ever had been before all this happened.  We were becoming closer and enjoying our “Dream Place” until the in-laws came.  Anyway, SIL ended up staying here for three months, three long and horrible months. 

Like I said they stayed in the motor home until we could get a modular put on the place for daddy dearest, but it was right outside my door.  After a week of her being here she decided to adopt a dog.  Now keep in mind, there are two adults (I use that term loosely), one dog and two cats in that motor home.  Granted, it’s a big one, but come on.  Common sense would dictate, wait until her place becomes available to adopt a dog and ask the people you are staying with if it’s okay.  Neither of which she did. 

And is it a trained dog? Of course not, it’s digging up my newly planted gardens, jumping into my newly dug pond and harassing cattle.  Plus I find out from the real estate agent who sold her place that SIL trashed the house.  It was so bad inside that the cleaning people had to wear gas masks, and there were bags and bags of cat poop in the back yard. Her dad footed the bill for moving up here, and the dad stated he wasn’t going to leave without her. 

I find all this and more out after the fact. Then I discover that she lied to the real estate that found her place here.  After three months I told hubby to get her gone NOW.  He talks to her and tells her to leave.  She runs to FIL and cries that mean old big brother to tossing her out and daddy dearest comes to talk to hubby and tells him SIL isn’t leaving. 

What a fricking mess!!!  So, she ends up staying like I said for three months.  Finally she’s ready to move but all her stuff and her dad’s stuff is in storage and has to be moved to the house.  Hubby goes to do the dirty deed and after one load calls me for help.  SIL isn’t helping at all, and his dad isn’t much help, please would I help.  If I had been smarter, I would have just said no.  But I go to help and sure enough SIL isn’t doing a thing to help out.  She’s not even at the storage facility.  We haul her stuff over to her new place and start hauling stuff into the house, does she lift a finger then?  You guessed right, not one finger.
 
Well, I take that back, she pointed with a finger where she wanted stuff.  I say quite loudly, “Is there some reason she can’t help out moving her own stuff?”  On the last trip back there’s a huge dresser that weighs a ton and I tell hubby,that’s it, you call that low life sister of yours and tell her to get her butt down here and help or this thing is staying right here.  She tells hubby she just get someone else to move it.  Well, why didn’t she do that in the first place?

So, now I have moved two house holds in less than two years.  But of course, we still have FIL to move, so that makes three.  In the mean time do you think any thing is getting done on the home front? NOPE, hubby is depressed, I am angry and depressed and on the verge of leaving and our Dream Place has become a nightmare…

Oh, and we mustn’t forget that SIL was so hot be be with FIL that she came to visit about once a month until the dad moved into his place.  Then she was here nearly every day hauling stuff away that pops didn’t want.  When that was done, she went back to her monthly visits.

Mustn’t forget that when she finally moved out of the motor home hubby told her to clean it thoroughly.  HAH, the place smelled so bad it gagged me and had to be really cleaned to get the smell out.

Not once through all of this has FIL offered to make amends; say thank you for putting up with all this; treated his son, his son’s wife or his son’s property with respect and dignity.  Now FIL is in rehab, as he recently fell and broke his hip, and has called his son EVERY DAY wanting something.  Doesn’t care what time of day, what his son might or might not be doing, doesn’t seem to matter.  I went with hubby once to the hospital and once to the rehab place and not once did FIL thank hubby, or acknowledge his son as a good man, just “I need…,” “I want…,” and I truly cannot tolerate FIL. 

Hubby needs to stand up to the man soon because I am starting to lose all respect for him.  I don’t care how old or young one is, people need to earn respect in order to get it and FIL acts like the world is owed to him on a silver platter and that just doesn’t jive for me.  He is a mean and hateful old man, who is deceitful and manipulative  and doesn’t deserve the sacrifices his son has made for him. 

Hubby and I have never in our 20 years had arguments like we have had over the last three years.  We’ve had the occasional spat, the usual disagreements that couples have, but never like this.  And every time we seem to be getting back into rhythm with one another,something happens.  I am really tired of it all, bone weary tired and don’t know what to do about it.

Because I Said So

My MIL says stuff to make it true. And once she says it, it’s true. And that’s that.

1) SIL (PCOS, took Clomid) is 4 weeks pregnant. We’re shopping at IKEA
with my six-month old and MIL. My husband (her son) and I are infertile (MF {Male Factor} and elevated prolactin level for me) and did IVF to get our son.

Soooooooo, my MIL is saying how great it is that SIL is pregnant and how we now have DS.

MIL:     “Well I don’t think either of you are infertile. You’re pregnant (to my SIL) and you have DS (to me).”
Me:      “We both are infertile. Saying we aren’t doesn’t make it true. Neither of us can have kids without medical intervention.”
SIL:      “Saying that doesn’t make us feel good, Mom.”
MIL:     “Yeah but OtherSIL said she was infertile and then she had twins.  None of you are infertile.”

All of MIL’s kids will need Artificial Reproductive Assistance if they want kids of their own. Face it, MIL!

Fender Bender / Binger

The scene: me at my older SIL’s house less than two weeks after her son was born with my 6-month old son visiting.  My other SIL was also there and my BIL was resting in the bedroom.  My FIL calls to say he’s coming over.  When he arrives he has obviously been drinking (he’s an alcoholic and addict so this is no surprise) and he says something to the affect of “I rubbed some paint on that white car out front”.  My two SIL’s think he’s joking and explain that the car is my older SIL’s but I am driving it because I was having car trouble this week and she let me borrow it. 

We talked for a while and then out of no where he says something to the affect of “now I really rubbed up against that white car out there but I have insurance”.  At that point my SIL got concerned and asked if he was serious.  He said he was and said he would take care of it.  Mind you, my SIL is also recovering from a c-section and should NOT be up and moving around much at all.  We get out to the car and basically my FIL pulled to close to the car and rubbed up against the back fender, taking off paint and breaking the tail light.  My SIL starts yelling at him about driving drunk and threatens to call the cops.  He claims he has insurance, wasn’t that drunk, and that she should calm down.  He gives her the insurance info while she’s still yelling at him and decides it’s now time for his departure.  Of course he tears out of the addition, squealing his tires as fast as he could go with children running up and down the sidewalks. 

Sadly that should be the end of the story but of course my FIL had NOT paid his insurance premiums.  The last time they were paid was when the older SIL paid them for him.  He has no money, has declared bankruptcy, and my SIL had to pay her deductible to have her car fixed.  Yes, that is my FIL.  He’s a heck of a guy.

Yes, I Have Plans Tonight – I’m Going Home With Your Son

This story is a quick and painful one.  My husband’s father is an addict and alcoholic.  Of course the entire family knows this and I knew it when I married my husband. 

We were at my husband’s grandmother’s house on Christmas Eve for our first married Christmas celebration, having just said the blessing over the food and were standing in the kitchen, getting ready to eat.  That was the point my FIL leaned over to me and said “got any plans later tonight?”  I just looked at him and said “Yes, I’m going home with your son”. 

At least he dropped it after that.  Oh yeah and his nickname for me that year was “Big Boobs B…..”.  It was a lovely Christmas.

The Waffle Tantrum

When my husband and I lived on the West Coast, we were pretty close to the airport. We lived in a high-traffic area, so the drive wasn’t always quick, but we had convienet access.

Needless to say, when my MIL went on a trip to the East Coast, she asked if we could pick her up. My MIL is a morning person, so imagine our surprise when her flight arrived at 2:30 a.m. But since my husband and I are very much evening folks, we just decided to stay awake until it was time to pick her up, then sleep after that.

As is typical, we picked her up on that day and exchanged pleasantries. She mentioned how good waffles sounded. I mentioned that I could make them for breakfast in the morning. (You know, later in the morning, after we slept.) We get to the car, and are on our way. Then, we ask her if she needed anything. “Well, I am kind of hungry.”

Husband: Okay, there isn’t much open. Shall we get you a hamburger or chicken sandwich or something?

MIL: No. I really want waffles.

Husband: Well, I am not sure there is a place open that serves waffles right now.

Me: Oh, there is a Denny’s!

MIL: No, I won’t eat at Denny’s.

Me: But they probably are the only place open that has waffles.

MIL: No. Denny’s is not acceptable.

Husband with exasperation: Well, then tell us something else you want. There isn’t a place that sells waffles that is open right now. This isn’t like the area you live in, where things are open 24 hours!

At this point, my MIL became possessed by a toddler. She threw a literal tantrum in the back of the car, screaming, “I WANT WAFFLES! I WANT WAFFLES! I WANT WAFFLES!!!!” My husband and I gave each other a look that said, “You’ve got to be kidding me?”

I finally thought of a 24 hour place that I thought served waffles. When we got there, it turned out they only had pancakes. Not one to make a scene in public, my MIL said that pancakes would be ok. Which was a good thing, because at 4 a.m. her son wasn’t ready to drive her any place else.