Monday, March 12, 2012

Mother in Law

On the road in Palm Beach…
And I am humming the Eddie K. Doe song,  "Mother-in-Law”. It makes me laugh but in truth it’s a dilemma for a recovering woman. Here I am, every day, praying for God’s will and to surrender my will and to see God in everything and to be kind and caring and generous and gracious and then I want to kill this woman!
It feels tricky too because I am torn between just going along and getting along and the other part of my recovery which is taking care of myself and saying “No”, and “No, thank you”, and “I would prefer…”
We struggle with food—she’s a fabulous cook—but I am trying to eat more healthfully. Her feelings are hurt if we don’t clean our plates. I’m tempted to put a baggie in my lap and sneak my dinner into the trash. But being reduced to that version of codependence is my wake-up call.
Yesterday I had this revelation: If she told me that her feelings would be hurt if I didn’t try her favorite cocktail I’d be thinking, “Oh well, you gonna feel bad.” I wouldn’t take a drink to please a hostess so why eat to please one?
But there is another side to this too: I am a mother-in-law as well. Visiting my mother-in-law makes me much better when the shoe—or the quiche—is on the other foot.
I’m counting my blessings: my mother-in-law does not drink and she’s in good health and she lives in a very beautiful place. But I’m heading to Nordstrom where the shoes are not booze and the fragrances are not cake and I can find a souvenir to take home to New York!

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