On Point

The laws of mothers-in-law

By: Linda McCarthy
   This past weekend my mother-in-law turned 80.
   After 12 children and 50 grandchildren, the woman looks better than I do. I guess she could be a poster child for clean living. I’ve known her for 31 years and have never once seen her drink, smoke or swear.
   Except for the 12 days she spent in the delivery room, she has never missed a day at mass. I remember when there was a blizzard and the roads were impassable; she walked. The parish priest was a bit surprised when he heard the rectory doorbell ring at 6:05 a.m. He was running five minutes late.
   Raising nine sons and three daughters brought its share of challenges. She remained the picture of dignity and grace through complaint calls from the neighbors, the school principal and the local police.
   She cooked for an army every night and never denied a drop-in dinner guest. The laundry she did on a weekly basis could clothe a small nation, but the piles were always clean, folded and waiting for someone to claim ownership. Despite the massive foot traffic, her house was and is still spotless.
   The most admirable attribute of my mother-in-law is her ability to withhold judgment. From the day I started dating my husband, she never interfered with our relationship, although I’m sure she had her reservations.
   Now it’s my turn. When my son got engaged, I decided to be just like my role model. So far I’m not doing too great.
   I can only handle three kids and not very well at that. If it snows, even a couple of flakes, my first instinct is to roll over and go back to sleep.
   I keep a bottle of Southern Comfort by the phone so I’m ready when I get the inevitable phone calls from neighbors, the school principal and the local police. I need two weeks notice if someone wants to invite a dinner guest. My laundry pile could clothe a small nation, however, the citizens would have to agree to wear everything dirty and wrinkled.
   My kids step over things rather than pick them up so my house is like an obstacle course. Now, factor in the three dogs that bark incessantly, chew things apart and drag food off the counter and you’ll know why, if my door bell rings, I drop to the floor and pretend I’m not home.
   I’m most lacking in my ability to stay uninvolved and neutral, even though I vowed to my future daughter-in-law that I’d stay out of the wedding plans unless consulted.
   So far, I’ve picked out dresses for her, made her gift registry list and provided unsolicited tips on how to wear her hair. I told her the best time of year to get hitched and suggested several places to have the ceremony. I’ve chosen invitations, favors and the cutoff age for invited guests. They haven’t set a date yet, but I’m already checking my calendar.
   Through it all, my son’s sweet fiancé remains the picture of dignity and grace. I guess it skips a generation.
   Linda McCarthy resides in Robbinsville with her husband and three children.