Mother-in-law

I hate my mother-in-law.

I know you are saying, "Christina, hate is such a strong word, don't you mean dislike?"

No, I've thought it over and I mean hate. Truly, really hate. It's sad I know, but let me give you the latest example why. I'm sorry if it sounds petty, but it's just the icing on the cake.

To backtrack a little, in February, my lovely MIL threw me a baby shower. She was insistent on being the one to throw is. Made a huge deal about it from the moment she heard we were expecting. So, she asks me for a list of people I want invited and anything else special I would like done. So, I make out a list of my friends and family and a list of games I would like played. She then calls me and questions half of the names on the list, are you sure you want to invite her, you know I don't like her. You get the picture.

Weeks go by, I ask if she needs any help. Nope. Okay. Then my step-mother calls. She's a little confused because when she called to RSVP, MIL told her she needed my step-mother to be in charge of games. Hadn't I given her a list. Yes, I had. I guess she was just planning so much she couldn't get to it. She never mentioned the list to my step-mother, so I rattled it off for her. Set.

Then, the night before my party, MIL calls my friend Linda (one of the ones MIL doesn't like) and tells her she has to get the cake because she doesn't want to make one. What. The. Fuck. Needless to say, I'm a little upset. But, I am also 8.5 months pregnant and chalk it up to emotions.

The day of the party arrives along with all the guests. There are no decorations, no food, no drinks. Nothing. Everyone is a little uncomfortable. It also doesn't help that she is in her sweats and has the heater cranked up to 80 (it's February in California. Not heater weather for those who don't know). MIL pulls me aside and asks is my step-mother remembered prizes for the games, because she better have, it's the thing to do. I walk away without answering her. I didn't want to hit her, and I might have then and there.

The party goes on despite the missing elements. I start to open presents. Halfway through, I have to excuse myself and step outside because it was HOT in there and MIL wouldn't a) turn down the heat, or b) let anyone open a window. Returning, I force myself to finish and that is when MIL jumps up and starts cleaning up and telling everyone they have to go. Sigh.

So, that brings us to yesterday. MIL is throwing a shower for her daughter, who's baby is due in December. I walk in the front door and what do I see. Decorations. Lots of decorations. And food. Lots of food. MIL ordered sushi special, and her daughter a) can't eat sushi and b) hates it anyway. What. The. Fuck.

Then there was the cake. It was huge, beautiful and delicious. I asked MIL where she got it and she goes on and on about this deli on Oakland where she gets all her family cakes. It's a tradition. I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her where to stick that particular tradition.

When I got home last night, I unloaded all my tears and hurt onto dear husband. Bless him for putting up with my new pregnancy hormones. Now, I'm not sad anymore. No, now I'm filled with hate for this woman who has come into my life and looks to be here to stay. Blah.