Dear MIL - You are not my friend.

Dear MIL -

You are not my friend. We don't hang out together. We don't go for coffee together. We don't even like each other that much. You talk down to my husband and treat him like crap. You know nothing about him, and it's painful to see just how much bitterness and resentment you hold.

I understand that he wasn't planned. I understand that you had a shotgun wedding when you found out that you were pregnant. What I don't understand is how, 27 years later, you haven't figured out that it wasn't his fault. Your lack of care in using a reliable method of birth control is not your son's fault. He is not your only child. You were happy when you were first married. Stop blaming him. It is not his fault that you had an affair 15 years later.

Somehow, though, he managed to watch your example and grow into a stellar man. It took him a while, I'll grant you that. He was living in your basement (which, by the way, he volunteered to do for his grandmother. He was the first person to say, "She can have my room if she moves up north. I'll sleep in the prone-to-flooding unfinished basement with the crickets." Your other children would not have, nor did they, volunteer.) until he was 24. College wasn't right for him, and he ended up in a string of dead-end jobs he hated.

Still, by hook or by crook, he learned to be caring, open, honest, and loving. Just not with his own family. He learned early on that he couldn't talk about his emotions, fears, dreams, and hopes. He was in a relationship for seven years with a girl who didn't deserve him. From 14 to 21, he was cheated on, talked down to, and treated like a pet. And not even a particularly loved and valued pet. He saw your marriage to his father and thought that it was normal to go through life without being loved and valued and appreciated. It's not normal. It's not healthy. You had seen them together. Why didn't you ever tell your son that he deserves happiness? Your example nearly led him into a loveless future. When I came into the picture and adored and worshiped him, you thought it was an act. You thought that I must be looking for something from him. That is ridiculous. He has never had a thing to offer me beyond a friendship and love so strong that I would kill for him.

He went into debt at a young age, and I understand how he could have made those mistakes at 18 years old. He didn't have a solid financial example. When you thought that the man you had an affair with was going to take you away, you stopped paying bills. He was never taught how to handle money, because no adult in his life ever bothered to sit him down and explain that you shouldn't live beyond your means, bills get paid on or before the due date, and you need to keep your checkbook balanced. For most of our relationship, I was the one earning the money. When he lost the job he loved at a major retail chain, I was the sole breadwinner. I was working at a MCDONALDS, for god's sake! We lived an hour apart. And still... STILL! He never asked you for a dime. Why? Because I was there to pick up the slack. I would pay for my car insurance, and the rest of my money was ours. I bought him bread, eggs, and ramen so that you couldn't say that he was unemployed and eating all of your food.

I was 17 years old, and he was 21. For the next 5 years of our relationship, I was the one keeping our finances afloat. When we were both laid off from good jobs within a week of each other, I swallowed my pride and I made sure that we could eat. I went to my sister and asked to live in her basement, because otherwise we would be homeless. We never asked for a penny from you. At his graduation from basic, we sat in the hotel lounge with a pad, a calculator, and his LES. We worked out a budget that includes saving $700 a month, and when he gets a promotion, we will be saving more. I bought a $300 car so that we wouldn't have a car payment.

We don't need your financial advice. We are doing very well, no thanks to you. My father taught me everything about the value of money from a young age, and I'm the picture of responsibility.

Oh, but I talk to much, right, "mom"? Can't get a word in. Funny how that works, though. I love my husband very much. I married him because, in my eyes, the sun wouldn't set and the moon wouldn't rise without him. When I haven't seen him in 2 months, I have a lot to say. He does, too. And when he's talking, I sit there like a little girl listening to her hero. Because he IS my hero. I never interrupt him. I will sit for hours while he talks about ancient Chinese history. I will sit for hours while he tells me stories about basic. And if I go off on a tangential monologue for 5 minutes when he asks me a question? Rest assured, he knew I'd do that. And he's smiling at me because I'm making him happy. He's asking me for more details, because he loves the sound of my voice and he wants to hear it as much as he can before he leaves for god-knows how long. He knew I talked a lot the day we met. He knew it before we fell in love. He knew it before we started dating. He knew it before we moved in together. He knew it before we were married. And he certainly doesn't expect it to change.

But you'd love nothing more than for me to bow down to you. Never. I will never again accept your treatment of my husband. I thought that his being a Sailor would change things. I thought knowing that he went through battlestations would prove how much of a man he has become. I thought knowing that he did this for the family he hopes to create would be enough for you to stop treating him like a child. I thought that seeing us with our heads together in a hotel lounge with a calculator, working out a frugal but doable budget to prepare for your future grandchild would do it.

I'm loathe to compare siblings. But your son is now a Sailor. He is married to a responsible (if talkative) young woman. He is planning for his first child. He is paying down his debts (also worked into our budget, separate from the savings) slowly but surely. He is a man. Think of what your other child is doing right now. Realize that your other child is exactly the product one would expect you to have made.

And now look at your son. He grew into a phenomenal man, because he understood the difference between and a good and a bad example. He deserves the respect of every American. He can't even get it from his mother.

We are not friends. We are barely allies.

I will not be your friend on facebook, you harpy.

Love,

Your DIL.

((No, I didn't send this to her. I told her off in person and I think that's enough. She still wants to be my FB friend, for some weird reason. I've made my own special privacy setting so that she can't see anything, though. I have nothing to hide, but I don't need her knowing how I think. She'll never understand or like me. Why give her potential ammo?))

All I have to say is: been there done that..... I have some serious MIL issues also!!! Hang in there!

I wish you would write a book. You write so well.

My MIL and I don't get along either... It's bad.

I'm glad that he was able to break the cycle and become the man he is today, that you married. Good for him. Good for you! You guys sound like you have a super strong marriage!!!

My main hobby is writing, actually. I'm still working on the outline for my novel.

"My Cousin Sarah's Shotgun Wedding" is about a shotgun wedding that doesn't get to take place, because the groom-to-be is murdered. Half of the book is spent trying to find out whodunnit. The second half is the main character trying to hide that her own husband killed her cousin's fiance, and trying to cope with being married to the mob. The groom-to-be had gambling debts and was killed by the mafia.

I'm still trying to decide if I really want to write that. I've got lots of short stories because I'm in an on-line RP group and I've been writing the same character for years.

Argh, I hate it when adults try to be my friend on myspace when we're not friends. It's obnoxious... Don't make me ignore your friend request and cause drama. Just... don't.

That was written very well. I don't particularly like either of my MILs (my husband is adopted. I have 2 ) but our relationships aren't that bad. I can only see one treating us like crap in the future (she has treated him like crap his whole life) but I can't imagine having to tell her all that.
I think you should've sent it...

NikkoKitty wrote:My main hobby is writing, actually. I'm still working on the outline for my novel.

"My Cousin Sarah's Shotgun Wedding" is about a shotgun wedding that doesn't get to take place, because the groom-to-be is murdered. Half of the book is spent trying to find out whodunnit. The second half is the main character trying to hide that her own husband killed her cousin's fiance, and trying to cope with being married to the mob. The groom-to-be had gambling debts and was killed by the mafia.

I'm still trying to decide if I really want to write that. I've got lots of short stories because I'm in an on-line RP group and I've been writing the same character for years.

Argh, I hate it when adults try to be my friend on myspace when we're not friends. It's obnoxious... Don't make me ignore your friend request and cause drama. Just... don't.

The novel sounds like a good idea! Your writing style is an eye-catcher.

I go through randomly and delete myspace/facebook people. I don't know why people who knew my name way back in high school need to be my friend.... Pfft.

Jeannette wrote:

NikkoKitty wrote:My main hobby is writing, actually. I'm still working on the outline for my novel.

"My Cousin Sarah's Shotgun Wedding" is about a shotgun wedding that doesn't get to take place, because the groom-to-be is murdered. Half of the book is spent trying to find out whodunnit. The second half is the main character trying to hide that her own husband killed her cousin's fiance, and trying to cope with being married to the mob. The groom-to-be had gambling debts and was killed by the mafia.

I'm still trying to decide if I really want to write that. I've got lots of short stories because I'm in an on-line RP group and I've been writing the same character for years.

Argh, I hate it when adults try to be my friend on myspace when we're not friends. It's obnoxious... Don't make me ignore your friend request and cause drama. Just... don't.

The novel sounds like a good idea! Your writing style is an eye-catcher.

I go through randomly and delete myspace/facebook people. I don't know why people who knew my name way back in high school need to be my friend.... Pfft.

Dude me too!!! but most of the time they will friend request me again. Damn stalker people!

Thanks! I've been writing since the old AOL chat room RP days. Anyone remember those?

::She walks into the room, taking a look around. The furniture is worn and ratty, but it was the first Inn she had found in days, and it looked like home.:: May I get an ale, sir? Your strongest, it's been a rough week. ::The traveler removed her cloak, her mousey brown hair a mess on the top of her head. She had been riding for days, and hadn't had the time to keep herself looking presentable.:: My horse is easily spooked. Tell your stable hands to be gentle to her, please.

I started writing like that when I was 12. I evolved over the years to slightly more normal fiction, but I still roleplay on many forums, so I'm used to collaborating. Writing alone is strange to me.

I actually walked out on lunch on graduation weekend when she was telling him how to handle 'his' money. He looked at her, then looked at me, and said, "No, mom, OUR money. She's my wife. And even if she wasn't, everything has been 'ours' since day one."

MIL: Well, you should put your money into a credit un-

Me: We made the decision that we would do that after basic. I am not working right now because I don't know where I'm going to be living 2 weeks from now. We couldn't afford to wait for a debit card for a credit union to show up, so we used the same exact bank account I've had since I was 16. We made it a joint account, and we'll open a NFCU account when he gets to A-School and we can talk the details out together.

MIL: Puff, you-

Me: This is ridiculous. He's 27 years old and married. He's a SAILOR now. We have made our choices as a team from the day we met, and he is not going to make any decisions that have baring on our future alone. You treat him like he's still that 19 year old fuck up, and he's not. You've done nothing but talk down to him the entire time I've known him, and I'm never going to watch you do it again.

And I walked out of the restaurant. Puff agreed that I did the right thing, but even if he disagreed I wouldn't have minded. He's a pushover and lets himself get screwed and treated like shit all the time. I won't let someone treat my husband poorly, whether he came out of their vagina or not. I can't sit by and watch it happen anymore. It's been years of this, and I'm so over it.

To make his life easier, though, I apologized for walking out. Funny... she didn't apologize for driving me to it. She can't ever be wrong. I'm willing to pretend to be wrong even when I'm doing the right thing, just to make Puff's life easier. And I NEVER back down from a fight. That's just how much I care about him.

Lo and behold, the Thursday after graduation, she wants to be my friend on FB. I either made her respect me, or she just wants to see all of the pictures from graduation that I put up. Whatever. She's restricted. Haha.

AH I love your writing!

"...whether he came out of their vagina or not..." I'm tearing up over here at work.

I've been wanting to turn my life into a novel for the longest time but could never figure out the context. You're genius!

Oh GOD, just the freakin' Cliff's Notes on my life story is novel worthy. I wish I were kidding. Here's a quick run-down. My family history factors into my life heavily, so you'll get some of that, too.

My father is an old man, and yes, this is all true. He really did have the time to marry all of these women.

My father got married at 19 to his HS sweetheart, in 1952. 6 months later he found her in bed with his best friend, so he took the stereo and left. They got it annulled. Then he married another woman a few years later. She had an infant daughter from a previous marriage, and my father adopted her. They had 2 children together. My dad was miserable with her, and they got a divorce when the youngest turned 18.

My father is a bailbondsman. He met my birthmother because she was a client. Her former fiance had died of a heart attack and left her a strip club. The town wanted to get it closed down but had no legal recourse for doing so, so they hired a plant to get a job at the club. The plant, of course, offered to sell favors to an undercover cop. The plant then told about how my mother (my sweet hippy mother who had no freakin' clue how to run a strip club and had inherited it a few months prior) was the madame of some crazy prostitution ring. When she was arrested, she and my father fell in love. They were married and she was pregnant with my older brother before the trial even started.

All of the other strippers denied it, wrote letters to the judge, went on the stand... But they wanted it closed down, so they found my mother guilty. They sent an innocent pregnant housewife to prison. Smooth moves! My brother was born in custody.

When she got out, they had me. Everything was perfect for a few years. My dad owned his 2 pubs and had a successful business, and my mother was a SAHM to 2 precocious munchkins.

Then she started getting sick. Really, really sick. For a long time, nobody knew what was wrong with her. After all... Housewives don't get AIDS! That's for drug addicts and gays! Her former fiance, the one who owned the strip club, was an intravenous drug user. He shared needles. Unwittingly, he signed the death sentence for the love of his life. Even in my darkest hours, I will not and can not blame him for what happened. He would never have hurt my mother on purpose. They weren't even married yet and he left her everything. That's love.

So, my mother started dying.

My father was at his bar one night working. Remember that first daughter, the one he adopted? She comes in with a friend from work. After a back injury, this friend was now fighting for disability benefits and was unemployed. Instead of talking about her problems, though, my father opened up about his wife being sick, and needing someone he could rely on to watch my brother and I. My older sisters helped when they could, but toddlers are a full time sort of deal.

Since the friend was unemployed, they decided that it would be an awesome idea to have her babysit for my brother and I. I still remember a few little things about those days when she would watch us. She was the first person who could brush my hair since my mother went to the hospital. She was the first person to make us a HEALTHY meal. She was the first person to help us pick up our toys and show us that with a little bit of rock'n'roll, any task is fun.

This new babysitter was amazing. My brother and I loved her dearly. She took us to the hospital to see Mommy! She washed our clothing! She read to us! She got down on the floor and played with us!

One night while we were all at the hospital together, my dad took my brother and I to go get food. When we came back, my birth mother was smiling. I don't remember this, but there were a ton of people there that night who do. My birthmother wanted my dad and the babysitter to try to fall in love with one another as much as they both loved us. She wanted them to get married and protect the little lives that they all loved so much.

3 months after my birthmother's passing, and with her blessing, my father and the babysitter were married. So, my stepmother is my oldest sister's friend, and our former babysitter. The problems that all came later aren't as interesting as the happy ending, so I'll leave it here.

Scary part? This is the Cliff's Notes version.

I'll have to sit down later on and read this! I'm at work.

Seriously... this is the Cliff's Notes. If I were to get into my childhood, my stalker, and all the other shit that happened after I was a toddler... Woooo! It gets crazy!