I feel guilty for saying this, but I should be sainted. Beatified? I'm not Catholic, so I'm a little hazy on the terms. I have just spent 27 hours straight, alone with B's mother. She got here on Friday night to help us move. And B doesn't get here till Sunday. Now, I love Mama B. Really, I do. I'm not just saying that. As far as boyfriends' mothers' go, she's pretty cool. While I'm slightly bitter that B is more spoiled than the leftovers I abashedly pulled from a tupperware in our refrigerator this afternoon, overall I think she did an excellent job raising him. And she brought me bronzer as a peace offering. I'm easily appeased.
So if I love the woman, why am I going slightly crazy? I think it's because your significant other's mother is the one woman - no, person - who has the inherent ability to render you devoid of all agency and power. What am I going to say to her? No? Do you want to go to Denny's? Sure, sounds great. How about we sneak around the back of the grocery store and take some wire cutters and take some of those great boxes to help you guys move? Don't worry! I'm sure by now that cop we saw back there earlier will be gone. Okay, sounds great, let's go. We can have the leftover Mongolian barbecue for breakfast tomorrow! Mmmhmmm. And I pray to God she didn't pack the toaster oven. The knives are packed though. I will make peanut butter toast with my bare hands and eat it in the bathroom before I tell her that the thought of eating our dinner leftovers for breakfast makes me slightly nauseous.
Usually I get annoyed at B for so shutting down all his mom's ideas, but I've kind of taken for granted that I get to be the neutral party, the angel child. Now, I would give anything to have him here to say that Denny's gives him a tummy ache. Or that foods containing Thai spicy sauce are generally unfit for breakfast consumption. Or that most things you secretly do behind a store involving wire cutters are a bad idea.
And in all of it, I think the breaking point is that she made me watch P.S. I Love You. I'm not a huge chick flick fan anyway, but I had actually made a thoughtful decision not to watch this particular movie, because I thought it seemed a terrifying combination of a tear-inducing story line (dead Irish husband sends letters from the grave), and good acting (I saw Hillary Swank in Million Dollar Baby). It was everything I expected, complete with Gavin DeGraw crooning through the credits. And to my credit, I made it till five minutes from the end till I cried. Have I mentioned that I'm ready for B to come back?
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