Every Mother-in-Law Is Someone's Mother

And Other Reasons to Celebrate Mother-in-Law's Day

So King Solomon is sitting on his throne adjudicating cases when two distraught older women (call them Rachel and Monica) burst into the room. Shaking her fist at Monica, Rachel yells, “My daughter Phoebe is supposed to get married to Joey tomorrow, and I just found out that Joey is engaged to Monica’s daughter too!” Monica yells back, “No! Joey is going to marry MY daughter! Your majesty, make Rachel and Phoebe give him up!” King Solomon sighs and says, “Now, now, ladies, calm down. Let’s think about this rationally. How about I chop Joey in half, and each of your daughters can have a piece of him?” Rachel says, “Makes sense to me! Let’s do it! I’ll get the ax!” But Monica, weeping, cries out, “Please no, Sire! Let Phoebe marry Joey! My daughter will get over him. I beg you to spare Joey’s life!” King Solomon nods sagely and answers, “Aha. I understand the situation perfectly now. I decree that Joey shall marry Rachel’s daughter, because Rachel is the true mother-in-law.”

Or how about this one? Q: Why did the mother-in-law cross the road? A: Because she thought it was boundary.

Readers, I have scoured the internet for mother-in-law jokes, and I am sorry to report that these groaners are the best ones I could find. The rest of them are just mean and not even funny. I believe that our culture can do better than these jokes. Too often we treat mothers-in-law as annoying intruders instead of as cherished family members. But every mother-in-law is also someone’s mother. We need a more appreciative and open-minded attitude toward mothers-in-law, which is why we should institute Mother-in-Law’s Day.

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Whee! Three Cheers for Louise!

Of course, it’s easy for me to talk, because my mother-in-law is one of the two best mothers-in-law in the world. (The other is the mother-in-law of my husband, Matt.) Meet Louise:

Photo by my sister-in-law Mel.

I love this photo, because it so perfectly captures Louise’s cheerful, free spirit. Or there’s this one, from Matt’s and my wedding, in which Louise cuts a rug with my dad:

My dad, a fantastic dancer, has just spun Louise out. Look how her skirt swirls!

The first time I met Matt’s family, I was incredibly nervous, but Louise got us off to an excellent start. She hugged me and said, “I’m about to have some sangria. Would you care to join me?” Yes please!¹ Shortly after Matt and I were married, Louise, knowing what a strong feminist I am, called in some favors to get me invited to a small event where I could meet Betty Friedan, and last summer, knowing how much I loved the book Reading Lolita in Tehran, she invited her neighbor Azar Nafisi over while I was visiting so I could meet her too. As the mother of four sons and no daughters, Louise was delighted for the chance to take me dress shopping when I was a teacher and had to chaperone the prom. She bought me a far more glamorous and flattering gown than I would have chosen for myself. When we moved into our first house, Louise rolled up her sleeves and, together with Matt and my dad, painted every room. These stories are typical of Louise’s support, warmth, and generosity, which I have enjoyed for the nearly thirty years I have known her.

Mother-in-Law Life Lessons

I acknowledge that not every mother-in-law is like Louise, though. Abusive mothers-in-law ought to be treated with civility—but also avoided whenever possible. Other mothers-in-law are skilled at passive-aggressive digs. Take my friend’s mother-in-law. Please. She used to go to great lengths to keep my friend out of family photos: When my friend was holding her kids, her mother-in-law would wait until my friend’s back was turned and her kids were peering over her shoulder to snap the picture, to ensure that my friend’s face wouldn’t appear in the photo. You have to laugh at the pettiness.² If your mother-in-law could be played by Jane Fonda, you have my sympathies—and also permission to skip the remainder of this section.

Still with me? Great! Because mothers-in-law offer us the opportunity to let go of prejudices and learn to get along with someone who is different from us. I can’t help noticing that mother-in-law jokes give off Karen vibes. They reveal negative attitudes toward older women who have strong opinions and express them forthrightly. But with some reframing, we discover that many of these strong opinions arise from the profound love and protectiveness mothers feel for their kids. In addition, marriage is the blending of two families and—often—two cultures, and both sides have to adjust to new ways of doing things. That clash of cultures can be upsetting and can lead to conflict, but it can also be instructive and can open our hearts and minds.

For example, Louise and I are quite different. I am excessively organized and like to plan out everything in advance, while Louise is relaxed and spontaneous, hence the nickname—Grandma Whee!—my kids bestowed on her when they were little. One day when we still lived in DC, Louise and I were running errands, and we got lost in Virginia.³ I immediately panicked and wailed, “We are NEVER getting home!” But Louise just shrugged and said we’d figure out where we were eventually. (She was correct; attentive readers will note that I am not currently stuck in Virginia.) “Wait,” I thought. “When you take a wrong turn and get lost, you don’t have to freak out? You can just roll with it?” This was a useful message for me!

Louise and I also come from different cultures. I was born and raised in Minnesota among the reserved and taciturn descendants of Scandinavian immigrants; my culture is Guess Culture. Louise is an East Coaster whose motto is “The answer to the question you don’t ask is no”; her culture is Ask Culture. These two cultures were first defined by Andrea Dondari in an online discussion:

In some families, you grow up with the expectation that it’s OK to ask for anything at all, but you gotta realize you might get no for an answer. This is Ask Culture.

In Guess Culture, you avoid putting a request into words unless you’re pretty sure the answer will be yes. Guess Culture depends on a tight net of shared expectations. A key skill is putting out delicate feelers. If you do this with enough subtlety, you won’t even have to make the request directly; you’ll get an offer. Even then, the offer may be genuine or pro forma; it takes yet more skill and delicacy to discern whether you should accept.

Most in-law conflicts are caused not by one party’s malice or malfeasance, but rather by good intentions muddled up with cultural differences on both sides, like those between Ask and Guess Cultures.⁴

A final story illustrates this point. Louise has a talent for architecture and interior design, and on her first visit to our new home in Prague, she noticed that I had arranged the living room furniture at one end of the room, leaving a large empty space facing the glass doors to the back yard. This setup was admittedly not very feng shui, and Louise suggested that I rearrange the living room furniture so that the sofa would face the glass doors and the view of the back yard. (I had arranged the furniture in such an eccentric way because our elderly basset hound, who was plagued by bladder stones, needed to go outside frequently, and we had scant seconds to get her outside before the deluge. We needed an unobstructed path to the door.)

Of course, Louise was merely proposing a more attractive arrangement, but because I come from Guess Culture, I interpreted her suggestion as something she must have been ruminating and fretting over—something of tremendous importance (otherwise why would she bring it up?)—and thus a demand that I would have to fulfill. And then I ruminated and fretted. Matt had to run interference and point out that his mom had just offhandedly tossed out the idea as it occurred to her, with no obligation or criticism implied. Readers may be laughing at my overwrought reaction, but this episode helped me to understand that it’s a sign of love to share wisdom and insights, and that regardless of whether we accept or dismiss advice, we can appreciate the good intentions with which it is offered.

Really? Halloween?

Anyway, I think Mother-in-Law’s Day should be on Halloween. Yes, really. This may seem like a backhanded compliment, given that Halloween is associated with witches (case in point, when the topic of his mother-in-law comes up, a friend has been known to whistle the Wicked Witch of the West theme under his breath). But in fact Halloween is an apt choice. The timing is convenient, because Halloween is almost exactly six months after Mother’s Day. Halloween also symbolizes what our relationships with our mothers-in-law ought to be: It’s when witches are not malevolent hags but beloved sweethearts. It’s when we defang the vampires and declaw the monsters that haunt our nightmares. We invite them in and give them treats.

H/t my friend Kelly, who posted this meme on Facebook.

It’s when we open our doors and hearts to each other. It’s when entire neighborhoods forget their differences and come together for a playful celebration of generosity and creativity. It comes just before All Souls Day, when we remember the generations that have preceded us.

Halloween is also Louise’s birthday, and she has always loved sharing her day with trick-or-treaters. The year she turned sixteen, she thought she would try a traditional sweet sixteen, so she planned a fancy tea party. Afterwards, she said the party just didn’t feel like her, and the next year she was back to her usual Halloween-y birthday festivities. Halloween is coming soon. Wouldn’t it be fun to spend part of the day treating our mothers-in-law to gifts of candy, lunch or coffee, a phone call, or maybe even a party? Happy birthday, happy Halloween, and happy Mother-in-Law’s Day, Louise! I love you!

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How about you, readers? What have you learned from your mother-in-law? And what has she learned from you? Are you a mother-in-law? What has your experience been like? Please share your thoughts in the comments!

The Tidbit

We sometimes think we are the only ones who are making sacrifices to accommodate other people, and when that makes us feel grumpy and put-upon, it helps to remind ourselves that other people—including mothers-in-law!—also make sacrifices to accommodate us. Louise, like all mothers-in-law, had some adjustments to make when her sons got married. She is an excellent cook of meat dishes—brisket, roast chicken, chicken-liver paté, chicken soup, and salmon are her specialities. All that talent and expertise is wasted on me and my sister-in-law Mel, because we are vegetarians. No matter. To make us feel welcome, Louise has learned to cook delicious vegetarian dishes for us. And now, whenever I visit Louise in DC, exhausted and bedraggled after a nine-hour transatlantic flight, she greets me with my favorite beer (Dogfish Head 60-minute IPA) and her wonderful homemade ratatouille.

Beer buddies!

Louise’s Ratatouille

I have adapted and rewritten the recipe below from an original recipe by June Xie on Delish⁵ in an effort to make it more like Louise’s recipe. Her recipe, like all great family recipes, isn’t written down anywhere and has “just been a habit—it probably came from the NYT cookbook long ago. My version is really easy because things are chunked, browned, and tossed together, covered, and allowed to do their thing of melding flavors.” The beauty of ratatouille is that you can start it in the morning and let it “meld” all day. This hearty dish is perfect for fall. With a salad, some cheese, and crusty bread, ratatouille makes a delicious and filling meal.

Ingredients

2 medium eggplants, cut into small cubes

kosher salt

1/4c olive oil

1 yellow onion, finely minced

1 clove garlic, finely minced with 1/2tsp salt to make a paste (Note: the original recipe calls for 8 cloves of garlic, which is far too much for me, but if you love garlic, go wild!)

minced bell pepper (Louise says, “I used a combo of small red, yellow, and orange peppers because I don’t like green peppers”; I agree—plus, the ripe peppers lend a lovely sweetness to the dish)

2 small zucchinis, cut into small cubes

1/4c olive oil (this repetition is intentional—eggplant requires a lot of olive oil)

1 beefsteak tomato, prepared as follows: Cut it in half, squeeze the goo and seeds out and discard, and chop coarsely

1tsp sugar

1 400gm/15oz can crushed tomatoes

plenty of salt and pepper to taste

basil, oregano, rosemary, and thyme—fresh if you have it; otherwise dried is fine

Method

1. Place the cubed eggplant in a colander, toss with salt, and let it sit at least half an hour, then blot it dry on paper towels.

2. Meanwhile, in a large pot over medium heat, heat the olive oil and then sauté the onions, sprinkling a bit of salt over them to help them purge their juices. Add in the garlic and some freshly-ground black pepper and sauté briefly (don’t let the garlic brown). If you are using dried herbs, add them at this point.

3. Add in the peppers and sprinkle a bit more salt over. Cook, stirring frequently, until peppers begin to soften. Then add in the zucchini, a bit more salt, and repeat.

4. When the vegetable mixture is softened, remove to a large bowl.

5. In the same pot, heat the remaining olive oil and dump in the eggplant cubes. Cook, stirring frequently until the eggplant turns golden and translucent. Remove to the vegetable bowl.

6. In the same pot (last time, I promise!), dump in the diced tomato, sprinkle the sugar over, and stir until it breaks down and becomes pasty. Then add in the canned tomatoes and heat through. If you are using fresh herbs, add them at this point.

7. Dump all the vegetables back into the pot, stir, and check and adjust seasonings if necessary. Cover and continue to cook the ratatouille at least half an hour or, on very low heat and stirring occasionally, all day. Regardless of how late your daughter-in-law’s flight gets in, this dish will come out perfectly.

1. I later learned that my father-in-law, like my husband, was a teetotaler, and Louise was eager for a drinking buddy. Count me in!

2. I experienced similar pettiness from the Iranian mother of a college boyfriend, who never once called me by my name. This wasn’t a pronunciation issue—my name is a common one in Iran. When she wanted to address me or get my attention, she would refer to me as “American”—and she did not mean it as a compliment. I have wondered what her relationship with her daughter-in-law is like.

3. People who don’t live in DC can’t possibly comprehend the terror and bafflement we Maryland-DC types experience when driving in Virginia. The seemingly random tangle of roads is entirely inscrutable to us.

4. Here is a fun and informative article, with links for further reading, on Ask and Guess Cultures.

5. Louise sent me a PDF of Xie’s recipe, but unfortunately, I can’t post a link, because Delish is a member-only site.