ANTHROPOLOGY 101: In-Laws and Perceptions...

Saw this on MSN today:
http://lifestyle.msn.com/relationships/articletkt.aspx?cp-documentid=11618162&GT1=32023

It amuses me in all aspects, as a Son-in-Law, a son and a parent.

As a Son-in-Law it amuses me because I've seen and heard it endlessly since my marriage. If I say yes on any given topic then my in-laws are compelled on some level which is practically mystical in nature to respond in the negative sense -- almost without regard to how ludicrous it may make them look in light of the conversation at hand. They tend to be people of vast contradictions who are willing to say virtually anything which pops into their brains just so long as it is NOT whatever I say or think or do -- particularly my Mother-in-Law.

Don't get me wrong; my MIL is a kind-hearted soul. It's merely that on some level which only she can perceive, I seem to be a right git.

I've literally switched sides in an argument with my Mother-in-Law just to watch her spin her wheels ala Starsky and Hutch, whipping her red and white-striped Logic Vehicle in an abrupt, tires-squealing-until-they-smoke circle in order to maintain her stance opposite me, the old 180-degrees.

Once I actually did this repeatedly in the same conversation, watching and listening in perverse glee as she changed her stance again and again until she finally accused me of merely attempting to aggravate her by switching sides. When I asked why she noticed this and yet continued with her own conversational sleight-of-hand she sniffed, declared the conversation finished and left the room.

When my in-laws came to our home the first time and saw a lightly stocked bar my MIL sniffed (I realize that's the action I usually ascribe to her and I promise, I'd illustrate her differently if she did any differently) and said "Well, I see someone likes his alcohol!"

I casually replied "It's my bar but Kristin is the one who keeps stocking it," [a blatant lie]; and with surprising rapidity the conversation was finished, the matter not only somehow settled but swept neatly beneath some form of social carpet.

Guilt with my in-laws is like alcohol with Baptists: If you're drinking it's Sin; if they're drinking it's invisible.

The point is that I see exhibited in loads of parents the unfathomable preconceived notion that no one, no person out there, is good enough for their child.

It's no wonder that the human race is in this deplorable condition; everyone alive has married down since the dawn of Time!

The real winner, the coup-de-grace, the bit which finally made me realize there was no chance of ever A) getting in with these people or B) making them see reason, was when my wife pointed out how much everyone believes my son looks like me, while my MIL, bless her soul, still insists to this day that she cannot see it. According to her my son looks like everyone else including the pastor of her church, yet doesn't look like me in the very least. The idea that I actually had genetic input is unthinkable; my son is, without a doubt, the product of Immaculate Conception in its purest virginal form.

I once threw her for a serious loop when I insisted my son looked nothing like me; her face actually contorted in pain as she short-circuited and then exited the room without a word...

In the end it is to laugh; there's simply nothing else to do. I'm along for the ride and little else in this particular relationship, occasionally called out to lift heavy items or kill large insects.



As a Son it amuses me because I honestly doubt my parents ever felt this way, or if they did they never allowed me to see in the slightest. In fact, I'd dare to say that my parents experienced a bizarre range of emotions, a gamut so paradoxical as to be confusing; on one hand they were so indifferent to my nuptials that it was more of an inconvenience for them when I actually GOT married than if I'd merely stayed single because they were forced to dress up and travel to a nearby city. Meanwhile, on the other hand, the fact that I actually managed to get married at all was a relief in the "well, at least he might not die alone" sense.

At two different points in time my mother (step-mother, but more my mother than anyone else) both remarked that I was happier than she'd ever seen me AND later remarked that she didn't see what the big deal was.

I don't know if anyone else out there has been through this; probably someone, but I don't know them. You probably don't, either.



Finally, as a Parent it amuses me because quite hypocritically, when people look at my son and giggle about their similarly-aged daughter perhaps dating my wee Jack-the-Lad as they each grow up, I smile accomodatingly and secretly wonder whether said daughter will be good enough for him. After all, he's quite the specimen, at least in my admittedly-biased view.

And that, my friends, really and truly makes me point a self-deprecating finger and laugh uproariously, the deep, abiding and supper-shaking belly laugh, the sort which makes the tears stream and the nose run until one is a helplessly quivering mass of chuckling sobs heaving insensately on the floor.

So maybe, for me at least, there's hope as a future In-Law, eh? My future Daughter-in-Law may prove luckiest of all on some fateful day far off -- because I just might manage to meet the girl and not only see her wedded to an individual whom I love dearly and hope to see become a fine man, but I may have the wherewithall to look back on my own realization of the silliness of In-Law-style condescension and instead merely accept her into the family for who and what she is as a person.

If, that is, she... *sniff*... proves adequate.