Thanksgiving is just around the corner and you know what that means: family time with the in-laws. In-law relationships can be complicated – especially when it comes to mother and daughter-in-law relationships. I’m sure there are plenty of wives out there wishing they could tell their mother-in-law a thing or two this Thanksgiving. I can imagine the comments muttered from across the table …
I don’t remember asking your opinion.
I wish you would’ve taught your son how to pick his underwear up off the floor.
Parenting has changed since “back in your day.”
As a matter of fact, I’d like to tell my mother-in-law some things as well. I always think of her this time of year. You see, seventeen years ago she was fighting an impossible battle against cancer. She was only fifty years old.
I had a mother-in-law for a total of four years. If I had the chance, here’s what I’d tell her at Thanksgiving this year.
I don’t remember asking your opinion.
I wish you would’ve taught your son how to pick his underwear up off the floor.
Parenting has changed since “back in your day.”
As a matter of fact, I’d like to tell my mother-in-law some things as well. I always think of her this time of year. You see, seventeen years ago she was fighting an impossible battle against cancer. She was only fifty years old.
I had a mother-in-law for a total of four years. If I had the chance, here’s what I’d tell her at Thanksgiving this year.
Let me help.
Twenty-some years ago when Curt and I were dating (or even newlyweds), I could barely make green bean casserole. Now I know what it takes to prepare an entire Thanksgiving meal. It’s hard work.
You were an awesome cook. You made everything from scratch. Turkey and stuffing. Homemade rolls. Pumpkin pie. You took care of everything and I showed up just in time to sit down and eat. I never asked if I could bring something. I never offered to help clean up. I was completely content to sit by my boyfriend and let you serve me. Ugh. I’m sorry I did that.
Thank you.
I had a two-month-old baby when you passed away. Now I have three kids and 17 years of experience under my belt. I understand how difficult motherhood can be.
I’m sure you went through turbulent times while raising my husband. Thank you for never giving up on him. Thank you for your relentless prayers. My girls and I are reaping the benefits of your hard work.
Let me tell you about our girls.
It breaks my heart that you never got to know your grandchildren. (And vice versa.) You would absolutely love them. Emily is bright, creative and kind. And you should hear her play the piano. Taylor has a big heart – especially when it comes to babies and little kids. Madison keeps us smiling with her dad’s sense of humor (which he probably got from you). All three play various sports. I know, if you could, you’d be cheering them on.
Twenty-some years ago when Curt and I were dating (or even newlyweds), I could barely make green bean casserole. Now I know what it takes to prepare an entire Thanksgiving meal. It’s hard work.
You were an awesome cook. You made everything from scratch. Turkey and stuffing. Homemade rolls. Pumpkin pie. You took care of everything and I showed up just in time to sit down and eat. I never asked if I could bring something. I never offered to help clean up. I was completely content to sit by my boyfriend and let you serve me. Ugh. I’m sorry I did that.
Thank you.
I had a two-month-old baby when you passed away. Now I have three kids and 17 years of experience under my belt. I understand how difficult motherhood can be.
I’m sure you went through turbulent times while raising my husband. Thank you for never giving up on him. Thank you for your relentless prayers. My girls and I are reaping the benefits of your hard work.
Let me tell you about our girls.
It breaks my heart that you never got to know your grandchildren. (And vice versa.) You would absolutely love them. Emily is bright, creative and kind. And you should hear her play the piano. Taylor has a big heart – especially when it comes to babies and little kids. Madison keeps us smiling with her dad’s sense of humor (which he probably got from you). All three play various sports. I know, if you could, you’d be cheering them on.
I picked up where you left off.
You spent more than two decades praying for my husband. Sadly, you weren’t able to see some of those prayers answered. But I did. And it impacted me in ways I can’t even describe. You’ve given me living-proof that prayer works. I wish you could see the kind of man your son has become. You’d be so proud.
Twenty years ago I wasn’t exactly the praying type. But I’ve changed since you passed away. When you could no longer pray on this earth, I picked up where you left off.
Well, there you have it. Just a few things I wish I could say to my husband’s mother. I know what you’re thinking. But Sheri, you don’t know my mother-in-law. That’s right. I don’t. But is she really that bad? After all, you married her son. She must’ve done something right.
I think when you lose a family member, you gain perspective.
So ... your husband leaves his underwear on the floor. In the whole scheme of things, it just doesn’t matter. Maybe this Thanksgiving we can all rise above it.
You spent more than two decades praying for my husband. Sadly, you weren’t able to see some of those prayers answered. But I did. And it impacted me in ways I can’t even describe. You’ve given me living-proof that prayer works. I wish you could see the kind of man your son has become. You’d be so proud.
Twenty years ago I wasn’t exactly the praying type. But I’ve changed since you passed away. When you could no longer pray on this earth, I picked up where you left off.
Well, there you have it. Just a few things I wish I could say to my husband’s mother. I know what you’re thinking. But Sheri, you don’t know my mother-in-law. That’s right. I don’t. But is she really that bad? After all, you married her son. She must’ve done something right.
I think when you lose a family member, you gain perspective.
So ... your husband leaves his underwear on the floor. In the whole scheme of things, it just doesn’t matter. Maybe this Thanksgiving we can all rise above it.
