The Forest For The Trees, on the stupidity and mean pettiness of my Mother in Law

God. I don't even know how to start this, or if I should..I wanted this blog to be about parenting for a better World, not griping about my Mother in Law, who I'll just call "Beast". But the reality of it is that she IS a big part of my life whether I like it or not. I want to first present a disclaimer, that the Beast and her husband did give me a wonderful gift, my Hubs, (although I cannot for the life of me figure out how he not only survived his childhood but also became a wonderful fucking human being) and also, they really, really love my boys. So that's the disclaimer. I've given credit where credit is due. And that's it. Those are the two good qualities about her which I can be thankful for.

Now back to reality. The Beast has been a thorn in my side, a pebble in my shoe, since day one. I really don't have enough room in a THOUSAND blogs to detail every thing this woman has done to make my life incredibly unpleasant. How she cuts me down in every regard to my parenting, housekeeping, and cooking. So I'll just recap yesterday and let you imagine the rest. Imagine this, times infinity.

SO. Beast and FIL show up yesterday morning bearing bags of oranges and strawberries, you know, because I'm so incompetent that I don't keep fresh fruit in the house. (BTW, we've been eating oranges, tangerines, mangoes, blueberries, and grapes since last Sunday when I had an awesome produce pick-up). So they show up and announce "Oh, we brought the boys some fresh fruit, we'll just cut some up for them to eat for a snack" and I am holding Stealth Ninja and I say, "You know what? Stealth Ninja has had some bad canker sores because we've been feeding him so much citrus..let me just check them out before he has any more." I get him to stick out his tongue and am alarmed at how big the sores seem under his tongue, and I quickly decide I'm going to take him to the DR.'s to make sure it's not something serious. As I'm getting SN's shoes and socks on and jacket, I'm listening to snide remarks about how Beast always washes the grocery cart handles and washes her hands before and after the store, blah blah blah. FIL says "You can't just run to the Dr. for every little thing you know." (This from the man whose idea to cure the ills of the American Public School system is to give everyone a "45...with real bullets." Really. I'm not even making that up, I wish I were.) I just roll my eyes, kiss Hubs goodbye, and leave.

When I return (it was Hand-Foot-Mouth, likely brought on by the boys' recent GI bug) the two older boys are literally being hand fed pieces of strawberry and cut up oranges (who the fuck CUTS UP pieces of oranges for a 4 and 6 year old?) Beast and FIL are actually, literally, each stationed by a boy feeding them fruit. GAH, but whatever, I say hello, and tell them about what Stealth Ninja has etc, and Beast says, "Oh, poor baby, let's give him some fruit.". Ummmmm................

Are you really that effing stupid? Oh wait, don't answer that. I say "Well Beast, fruit is probably not the best thing for him right now, too acidic, and in fact I think my feeding him so much fruit all week may have really exacerbated his sores." And. She. Says. "Oooohhh, one little piece won't hurt..."

So I calmly (another disclaimer here, and anyone who knows me or has seen me in action around Beast can testify, I struggle, but I DO, stay extremely calm and polite when I'm dealing with her, I really, really, do) say, "No, really, I'll make him some toast." To which FIL says: "Toast? Are you crazy? Toast is too sharp."  Okay. In my head at this moment, I am killing them both, my hands are around both their necks and then I smash their two bobble heads together.

Anyway, eventually they leave, I thank them for coming over and have the boys give kisses and hugs (well, not Stealth Ninja because Hand-Foot-Mouth) and HALLELUJAH !!!!!!! they are gone.

So this morning I'm in the kitchen, putting dishes away, just started a load of laundry, making the boys some Belgian waffles, and Hubs strolls in and sees the waffle maker and says "You boys are so lucky. Lookit Mom making you waffles while doing everything else. Oh, honey, you shoulda heard my Mom talk about the house yesterday. Said she couldn't "See the Forest For The Trees" in this house because of all the "stuff", like how the fridge is always full of food, and the counters always have stuff on them. God."

SAY WHAAAAAAAAAAAA?!
Are you even fucking mother fucking kidding me right now with this bull shit!? Now, I am not a perfect person. But when it comes to the condition of my home, which I strive to make warm, clean, and CHOCK FULL OF MOTHER FUCKING LOVE, I am God damned Mary fucking POPPINS.  And Mary fucking Poppins is not amused.

So. Here I am. I have absolutely reached my limit. Oh, I could once again just let it slide, roll of my back, chalk it up to the fact that she is so fucking stupid (like, STOOOOOPID) that she doesn't.even. KNOW what "Forest for the Trees" even fucking means, that she is just so completely miserable that she can't be happy that her grandsons are well fed and loved, that we live in a house 1/4 the size of hers, with 3 YOUNG BOYS, that a full fridge means we are giving them lots of variety in their diets, that the clutter on the counter is called appliances and cook books which I love to use to make delicious mother fucking FOOD for her grandsons, that she has NEVER been in this house when all the beds weren't made, floor was vacuumed, sink was empty and SHINING, bathrooms swished and swiped (google FlyLady to see what that means) and me, cheerily trying to see the best in her, actually mother fucking defending her when Hubs or his brother start picking on her at family dinners. I am done. So. Done. So, Beast, in the off chance that I actually get the balls to ever say this to you, from now on,

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