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May 8, 2008 / Maleesha Kovnesky

Why It’s Mother’s Day, and not Mother-In-Law’s Day (Part II)

4/6/2008

Since Sharon and I were tag-teaming kid duty, the rest of the drive to Montana was fairly uneventful.   Sharon, thank you so much.  The only other thing that happened was that we stopped at a McDonalds in Columbus, MT for lunch on the last day of the move.  Sharon took Macy to the bathroom to change her.  AJ was hungry.  The restaurant was very busy. 

I asked MILfH if she could watch AJ while I stood in line to order him a kid’s meal. 

She shook her head and said “Actually I’m going across the street to look for souvenirs.”

Don’t ask my why she wanted a souvenir at that very moment in Columbus, MT.  But I hung onto AJ in line and ordered him food, though he kept trying to dart off, which was why I needed the help in the first place.  Kids who have to sit in cars all day have lots of pent up energy.  Oh well.  At this point, I was glad to have five minutes sans MILfH.

We got to Bozeman and as it turns out, the landlord was applying touch up paint to the house.  The fumes were very strong and I didn’t feel good about staying there with a kid, a baby, and heck, myself…who was getting dizzy from the paint.  I decided to take my kids and myself and Sharon to Butte, to stay at my moms. 

“But your mom has cats,” she said.

“Yes, she does,” I confirmed.

“Then I can’t stay.”

YES!  Finally a MILfH repellent.  MILfH sulked off to a hotel and Sharon and I headed for Butte.

Things have settled and the paint has dried, and she is still with us in Bozeman two weeks later.  Since Bozeman is such a hot spot to live right now, finding daycare for an infant has been next to impossible.  Most waiting lists are extended into 2009.  So MILfHis “helping.”  By “helping” I mean sustaining life, which I know is important. 

But she lets the baby sleep ALL DAY, and then Macy is awake and ready to party at night.  She gives ZERO attention to AJ throughout the day, and is content to let him watch TV for hours on end.  She leaves him downstairs while she goes upstairs to read her various Montana travel magazines and books. 

I play with AJ as much as I can between setting up house, getting ready for the new job, unpacking, etc. but the poor kid is sad.  Wasband can barely walk because he had to do 99% of the heavy lifting and it’s made his foot problem flare up terribly.  The whole experience has made me feel very stretched and busy and not a good mom.  But I know it’s temporary, and I am on several waiting lists for daycares.  We also have one spot that we are going to try to take at an “okay” daycare just until one of the good ones opens up.  MILfH HAS TO GO.

She said she would be happy to stay if “she could bring her Dukey.”  Duke is her old, smelly ass dog.  Well, it isn’t my choice because we are renting, and they don’t want dogs from their renters.  She does not seem to understand this.  “Just tell them you are desparate,” she said.  “He’s a good dog and I’ll keep him on the porch during the day and he can sleep in my car at night.”

“I think we’d get reported as animal abusers if we kept a dog in a car overnight,” I pointed out. 

“But he loves my car,” she said.  “Or maybe he could just come up to my room at night.”

“It’s not our house,” I said.  “And even if they did allow dogs, there would be a non-refundable dog fee, and it would increase the monthly rent. 

She said “Well, that would be fine,” she said.  “Then I could stay.”

HA!  Right.   

MILfH is the first one to bed and the last one to get up.  It makes me insane.  That of all things, makes me insane.  I cannot stand lazy people.

The news was on, and there was a story about how people in the military follow orders.
“I can’t understand how those soldiers just blindly follow orders,” she said.

I am a former Marine. I said, “Well, they’re all really trained, and the ones that can’t follow orders get weeded out pretty early.”

Her clever response:  “I guess that’s why I’ve never been able to work.  I just ask too many questions.  Like, why do you have that rule?”

I wanted to say, “No, you’ve never been able to work because you are LAZY.”  But I just smiled my most sarcastic smile and thought of all the people on earth slaving away to make a buck, while my mother in law chooses instead to marry the first (and second, and third) men who happen upon her. 

Her current husband is a real tool.  A real jerk.  They are both jerks to each other, and she is an awful stepmother to his two daughters, of which he has full custody.  She was proudly telling me the other day how she really told off the eleven year old before she left to join our caravan.  Wow.  You told off an eleven year old girl from a really troubled family.  How proud you must be. 

Anyway, she’s been touting the “abuse card” for a while now.  How he’s “very abusive.”  She can never tell us just how he is abusive, because I don’t think she knows.  She probably feels abused.  She did hint around how he pushed her during a fight, which does constitute abuse.  She didn’t flat out say it, but she hinted around enough to where I think they hit each other when times get tough.

“I don’t deserve that,” she said.  “I’m a child of God.”

I DID reply to that.  I said, “I hate to tell you, but even if you WEREN’T a ‘child of God’ you  still wouldn’t deserve that.”

She chuckled with non-understanding.  She has already confessed to “making fun of” Buddhists, Muslims, and other non fundamentalist Christians.  I’m pretty sure she thinks all non “children of God” deserve the smackdown. 

We’ve already heard the story (she doesn’t know we know) about how she got drunk and threw a beer bottle at her husband’s head a week after they moved into their new house.  He called the cops on her, and she fled the scene in her CR-V.  She headed for the safety of the Christian retreat up near their house, Rainbow Valley Ranch.  The gate was closed, which is why she left the vehicle and jumped the fence and started scampering across a field, which is where the cops tackled her.  I guess abuse works in both directions.  I’m sure she thinks those police were probably Jews.

The time came to fill up the new refrigerator.  Part of the deal of MILfH coming up to “help” us included me cooking her stupid meals for her.  Fine, I get it.  But I am not a grocery store runner. 

The first trip to the grocery store (she had already been to two) for us was exciting.  As we walked out the door, MILfHsaid “I need some Millstone French Roast.  And I need special margarine, it’s in a green and yellow container.” 

Fine.  Whatever.

I went to the grocery store and I did look for these special items, I really did.  But the Smith’s only carried a couple brands of coffee and while they did carry Millstone, there was no French Roast to be seen.  So I went to the dairy section.  As it turns out, every brand of margarine in America comes in a yellow and green container.  So I didn’t buy that either, as I know I would have purchased the Wrong Kind.  And MILfH would have taken this personally.

She seemed insulted that I returned with nothing for her.  “I tried,” I said. 

A later attempt at a grocery store run yielded another request.  “Will you get me some cheese?”

“Sure,” I said.  “What kind?”

“Vermont White Cheddar.”

FINE.  I went to a new, very nice Rosauers.  The dairy aisle had your run of the mill cheeses, four kinds of cheddar…but none of them white, or from Vermont.  I headed for the deli area, cursing up a storm that I was wasting minutes of my day searching for specialty cheese for the laziest woman I know.  I could have said no, but I’m holding it all back.  I want a peaceful house and it’s already tense enough with a mother in law living in it.  I finally found a block of “natural cheddar from Vermont.”  FOUR NINETY NINE FOR A TEENY WEENY BLOCK OF CHEESE.  Whatever.  I threw it in the cart.

I got home and unpacked the groceries.  “Did you get my cheese?”

“Yes,” I said.

“How much was it?”

“Four ninety nine,” I said. 

Her jaw dropped open.  “Are you serious?  For Cracker Barrel?”

My eyes have started to do a funny thing when MILfH talks.  They jerk around, like I am about to have a seizure, or perhaps a stroke. 

“You didn’t say Cracker Barrel,” I said.

“I didn’t?  Oh, I thought I did.”

“Nope,” I said.  “You said Vermont White Cheddar.”

“Yeah,” she said.  “From Cracker Barrel. I swear I said that.”

I know that this visit from MILfH, while semi-helpful, is shortening my lifespan by several years.  I wanted to stick the fancy Vermont White Cheddar somewhere where the sunlight would never hit it.

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10 Comments

Leave a Comment
  1. wpm1955 / May 11 2008 9:08 am

    I forgot to say, the real question should be, are you children SAFE with this woman, and it doesn’t sound like they are.

    Something very serious happened to my child with a maid who wasn’t taking care of her properly when I was at work, and it took my daughter almost a year to recover from it. Think about that before it’s too late.

    Madame Monet

  2. wpm1955 / May 11 2008 8:48 am

    Well, I live in the Middle East and people think having a maid is like being waited on hand and foot. In reality, it’s generally just like you describe above.

    My Middle Eastern husband won’t confront the maid about not getting the dishes clean when she washes them, or numerous other things just because help is getting hard to find here, too, and HE doesn’t want to LIFT A FINGER to help with housework!

    Madame Monet
    Writing, Painting, Music, and Wine
    winewriter.wordpress.com

  3. maleesha / May 9 2008 7:51 am

    Sadly, there is a part 3, 4, and 5.

  4. Allison / May 9 2008 7:50 am

    Oops. I meant “say” not “saw”. No more commenting in the middle of the night.

    I wish you would have said that…that would lead to a Part III most certainly.

  5. maleesha / May 9 2008 6:50 am

    She said that a lot, actually: “I like animals more than people. I get along better with them.”

    I wanted to say, “that’s because they can’t talk or reason and have no chance of escape.”

  6. Allison / May 9 2008 1:37 am

    And when I saw actual people, I mean her grandchildren.

  7. Allison / May 9 2008 1:37 am

    Pure evil (that may be a little harsh…but than again, she seems to care more about her dog than she does actual people).

    If my mother-in-law were still alive, I would go kiss her feet right now.

  8. maleesha / May 8 2008 10:12 pm

    I can get that much! I can. But seriously, because of your comments, someone found my blog by doing a Google of “how can i kill my mother-in-law.” Move on people, nothing to see here like that. Just cheese, and lots of it.

  9. Ian Thomas Healy / May 8 2008 8:47 pm

    Did you know for only 2000 pieces of Vermont White Cheddar, you can have someone professionally rubbed-out? 😉

    I know some people. LOL

    Ian

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