Daughter-In-Law Versus Mother-In-Law: War of the Roses

You’ve probably heard that marriage can be likened to a rose, which blossoms only when tended carefully and lovingly.

And being the tending, loving and caring gardener you are, the roses are blooming—but not without a lot of blood, sweat and tears. When you and the Hubby fight, you diligently work out your differences and learn how to communicate better.

But, what if those heated exchanges aren’t necessarily with the Hubby? But about his family and more exactly his mother?

If marriage is like a rose, then the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship is surely the thorns.

I’ve recently seen my share of thorny mother-in-law/daughter-in-law stories. His mother is demanding, critical, intrusive. She mopes around and always wants his pity. His wife is cold. She excludes me from functions and minimizes my role.

What always surprises me is not how often the Hubby chooses mother over wife—but that he’s entirely clueless when doing it. Seeing his wife as the stronger and maybe even the more reasonable party, he asks that she give mother some slack. That’s my mother. That’s how she is. Just accept her. Thinking he is protecting his wife by diffusing the situation, he unfortunately leaves the wife feeling terrible for disrespecting the family matriarch. She feels abandoned and rejected without the Hubby’s support.

So if I could offer simple tips on building healthier mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationships, I would say:

Hubbies, Prune baby Prune.
Encourage roses to bloom by attentively trimming those sickly shoots and letting healthier ones grow. What works beautifully in my marriage is when the Hubby listens to my concerns, complaints and hurt feelings without having to agree or endorse them. And vice-versa, delicately drawing boundaries with his mother on what is acceptable criticism and behavior.

Mother-in-laws, Lay down a THICK layer of mulch over those weeds.
Being mother-in-law sadly doesn’t include the same freedoms as being a mother. So step back, abstain from unsolicited advice, and quite simply bite your tongue.

Daughter-in laws: Offer A LOT of sunshine.
Let mama shine by upping the respect to the 1000th degree. Remember, she raised this fabulous man you call Hubby. So be (overly) attentive, gracious and inclusive.

Cosmic Mess Makes Good Fertilizer

By Mundoo using the Creative Commons License

I recently came across a piece in Scientific American regarding the galaxy cluster Abell 2744, which astronomers have dubbed Pandora’s Cluster because it contains so many unusual phenomena. In order to produce a complete image of Abell 2744, astronomers used an arsenal of telescopes to explain Pandora’s strange and messy features. Well, it turns out it's actually the result of a simultaneous collision of four separate galaxies clusters.

I had my own strange and messy collision recently. On route to running weekend chores, the Hubby and I exchanged some brutal words. A routine car ride abruptly became a He Said/She Said shit storm that shattered and tattered feelings, egos and trust. And like a mature adult, I capped off our marital eruption with the silent treatment.

The Hubby and I have our differences. We come from different backgrounds, have different perspectives, different communications skills. Given these differences, I have always focused on unveiling our own histories and abnormalities, or as lead researcher Julian Merten put it, “how different types of matter interact with each other when they are smashed together,” for the sake of pointing out the wrong.  So what does our recent cosmic pile-up say about me and our relationship?

I acted stupid.

Following our blowout fight, I disengaged, went my separate way, let my ill feelings fester. The Hubby repeatedly tried to apologize but I refused. Yes, I was angry, hurt and frustrated. But honestly, I behaved stupidly. I have to fess up to my own foolish tendency— to blame others for my own unhappiness.

It’s contagious.

It’s easy to point the finger at people that did me wrong. To engage in ongoing, petty dramas and hold on to silly grudges.  Really, if I search hard enough, I can find somebody or something to blame. This is not to say he was faultless. Sure, he was wrong. But how is holding on to anger going to solve anything? All it does is isolate us further from each other. Interestingly, Pandora’s complex collision appears to have separated out hot gas and dark matter so that they now lie apart from each other, and from the visible galaxies. This puzzling arrangement may be telling astronomers something about how dark matter behaves.

Entertain me.

Why collide, explode and separate? Because it’s familiar, comfortable and hell of a lot easier than changing. Change is hard! Unfortunately, Life is a stage that requires its actors to be front and center, not in the far back seats. Because at the heart of change is connection, intimacy, love. Change implies constantly evolving to connect with each other on deeper levels. To see past all our differences, messes and abnormalities, and to focus on a stronger energy.

Love.

So yes, there will be many, many, many more collisions and without a doubt unusual and stupid phenomena in our future. But I will keep believing in those invisible, cosmic threads out there in the universe that connect us all.

A Butt Smacking Good Time

Making my way to the kitchen, I walk past the Hubby sitting on the couch reading the paper. I move in slowly, ease my pace slightly, and subtly place the butt into eye view. Three-quarters into my turn, I feel a swift smack. We have contact and all is good.

Equivalent to a hug, smooch or holding hands, nothing says I love you like having my bottom slapped. In the kitchen, running upstairs, getting in the car—all fine opportunities for a good smack.

Photo by ilmungo using Creative Common License.

Why the behind? Like most Latinas, I have been bestowed with a rather round rump. The object of shame for many years, it has been ridiculed, hidden behind baggy t-shirts and sweaters, and treated with fad diets that failed to diminish the derrière.  And like the ugly duckling that transformed to a beautiful swan, Cinderella’s rags to a ball gown, my badonkadonk has too changed from a thing that taunts to one I flaunt. 

And though I enjoy receiving the Hubby’s other conventional means of affection, the booty slap is surprisingly the most loving. And before anyone suggest that it’s degrading, I’d like to enforce that the act is 100% consensual, done privately, and one I completely encourage.

So rather than condemn, I’m going to lose the baggy sweats and low(er)-body confidence for my sexiest accessory—confidence—and praise all my God-given assets.