The Vine: April 9, 2003
Hi Sars,
Quick one: When you post a Q&A to the Vine, do you also email the Q end
to give them your answer personally? Or do they need to read the Vine
daily to catch the reply?
Thanks,
A Questioner
Dear Questioner,
I send out a form email notifying them that their letters appear in that day’s Vine; that’s it. I do have a pretty big backlog, so sometimes the email addresses aren’t valid anymore, and in that case, petitioners have to follow the daily column to see if their letters made it in.
Dear Sars —
I think you are one of the wittiest and wisest women around, so I need to ask you for some advice. I am talking marriage with Mr. Right, and life is going just fine. The problem is my future mother-in-law (betcha never heard that one before).
My future mother-in-law (let’s call her “M”) is a piece of work. Very old-fashioned and clingy, very scatterbrained (in a nice way), very dependent on others, very sociable, but given to great mood swings, nagging, butting in, and telling embarrassing stories about everyone. I accept her because (a) I have no choice, and (b) she deserves credit for making my future husband the man he is today. Thanks to her antics, he has developed great reserves of kindness and patience, plus he’s developed a personality completely opposite of hers — thoughtful, independent, practical, level-headed, stable — that is part of the reason I love him so much. We don’t see her that often, but I know that she will always be a part of our lives.
Here’s the deal — we aren’t going to have kids. M already has one grandchild, through her daughter, but I know she hopes we’re going to give her another. I’m 34, Mr. Right is 29, and I plan to have my tubes tied before the wedding. How do we tell M this news?
The advice I get from my friends and family is all over the place. Some think I should mention the tubes being tied, and tell her before I have that done, or tell her after. Some think I shouldn’t mention that part (but that leaves us open to years of her asking us if we’ve changed our minds). Some think we shouldn’t say anything, and just smile patiently whenever she asks us about kids. My mom is insistent that we tell her something, because she fears that M might make my life a living hell if Mr. Right and I don’t make this clear before the wedding. I think M’s quite capable of making my wedding a living hell by complaining about our decision to everyone in attendance.
Mr. Right just wants to do whatever will get the point across and will result in the least amount of nagging, pleading (with us to change our minds) and histrionics. I want to do it in the kindest way possible that conveys the finality of our decision.
Thanks,
Our Cats Will Take Care Of Us In Our Old Age
Dear Cats,
You’ve got two questions in one here — how to tell M about the decision in the first place, in a way that will discourage discussion (read: histrionics), and how to time the telling in the second place.
My first instinct is to advise you not to tell her until after the wedding. If you really believe she’ll drag that particular item of laundry out in front of the guests, it’s probably the smart play not to tell her until after that danger is irrelevant. On the other hand, she’ll raise holy hell if she finds out after the fact, so I guess you and M. Jr. need to decide which is the lesser of those two evils and go with it, but my priority with these things is generally just to get it over with and get started dealing with the aftermath as soon as possible.
Whatever you decide, I would have M. Jr. handle it, even though it’s your tubes getting tied, because it’s his mother. Let him take the lead on deciding when and how to tell her, and when the time comes, let him deliver the bad news — remove yourself from that situation completely. If she wants to talk to (read: harangue) you about it later, that’s fine, but I have a feeling that both of you sitting her down and announcing that you’ve taken medical steps to prevent kid-having is going to go over like a metric ton of bricks.
And take a look at yesterday’s letter about the decision not to have children, because you and M. Jr. do need to make it clear to M that this is your decision and not subject to a floor vote.
Hi, Sars —
I’m an old bat in my fifties, but I truly enjoy Tomato
Nation — where were you thirty years ago when I needed
you? Never mind — you were probably not even in utero…
Despite years of being barraged by well-meaning
non-smokers, either I seem to be growing less tolerant
of their unsolicited input or they are becoming more
and more rude. I make every effort to be polite,
always asking if my smoking would bother them, making
an effort to keep my smoke from drifting into their
faces, et cetera. On the other hand, they seem to be
becoming more confrontational.
A couple of weeks ago,
I was taking my dog for her evening constitutional;
I’d left the house with a lit cigarette and hadn’t
proceeded 100 feet when one of the twinkies in my
neighborhood decided to take a break from her power
walking to talk with me. After a few minutes, she got
a disgusted look on her face and said, “I have to go
now — I can’t stand your smoke.”
Excuse me…we were outdoors, it was breezy, and I
didn’t even initiate the conversation with you, you
simple twat. Initially, I kind of blew it off — this
is someone I don’t care for anyway, and if my smoking
keeps her away then I will merrily keep puffing. On
the other hand, I’ve observed that other non-smokers
don’t think twice about commenting about the smell of
smoke, giving dirty looks, or waving their hands in
front of their faces as if they were being attacked by
a pack of Nile-virus-ridden mosquitoes. It’s tempting
for me to respond with, “My God! Did you bathe in that
cheap perfume?” or “Are you deliberately wearing that
outfit to offend my delicate sensibilities?” However,
I consider remarks like that to be extremely rude.
Any snappy comebacks, Sars? Normally, I’m pretty good
at zinging, but I think the deliberate rudeness of
these clean-lungers sort of short-circuits my normally
nimble brain.
In a haze
Dear Haze,
Thirty years ago, I was just ex-utero, but short of “strongly advising” my mother to change my diaper with the odd well-timed howl, I wasn’t much good in the wise-counsel department back then.
And now to your question. It’s my experience that certain non-smokers — not all of them, by any means, but certain among them — take advantage of the fact that smoking is pretty much an indefensible habit in order to harass and sneer at the smokers in the crowd. We already know that cigarette smoking smells bad and has deleterious health effects; we can read. But these certain non-smokers like to remind us of these things anyway, because in their minds, they occupy a moral ground quite a bit higher than that staked out by the stinky nicotine addicts.
And that’s rather rude of them, but to point out said rudeness is rude also. A simple “I’m sorry” should do it. You aren’t, but why give her the satisfaction of responding to her bad manners with your own?
Hey Sars,
This isn’t an immediate problem so much as it is a constant, seemingly
endless source of irritation that requires a fresh perspective. I’m all
perspectived out.
First, quick background: I’m almost 30, I’m married
(same-sex, although that’s unrelated to the issue), I did extremely well in
college (and loved it) and law school (meh), and I have a good job as an
attorney. The spouse and I own our house and we’re doing all the responsible
stuff that comes with adulthood. The endless source of irritation: my
parents. Not in the typical “my family annoys me” way. No, my problem is
that my parents inhabit a completely different reality than the one in
which the rest of us live. (By the way, five bucks says that if you print
this, my oldest friend and probably my spouse will call me at work and say,
“Hey! You wrote to Sars!”)
Anyway, let me give you some examples of Reality versus Bizarro World. If I
have a conversation with my parents and later go back and ask about specific
statements they made, they will completely deny having made those
statements, or in the alternative, they will insist that their meaning was
different from the normal, everyday meaning associated with the statement.
I’m not talking about the occasional conversation where two people disagree
about what was said. This is more like a weekly occurrence. For instance,
my parents have been extremely rude to Spouse. I’m talking flat-out bitchy
mean, such as saying that her family is white trash (actually, they’re
pretty affluent and non-trashy). When I call them on it later, they deny
having said that, or claim that they were “just joking” (even though the
tone was NOT a happy, joking tone), and act all insulted and hurt that Spouse
and I (and other witnesses) misunderstood. There have been a lot of these
little barbs, but I’ll just leave it at that one example. (Calling them on
it immediately is difficult, because we’re usually in public and I don’t want
to make a scene, and also because I’m usually flabbergasted at the
statement. But I have called them on it immediately before. They use the
“just joking” or “you’ve misunderstood our point” route.)
Let me be very clear that my parents’ alternate reality didn’t pop into
existence when Spouse came along. This has been a life-long irritation for
me. So much so that when I was a child, I would write down things they said,
immediately after they said them, and ask them to sign the paper,
acknowledging their statement. That’s just weird, isn’t it? But there was
no other way I could be guaranteed that they wouldn’t “forget” or
reinterpret things. (They rarely signed the papers, by the way, and I
eventually gave up on that tactic.)
So, the problem: because they live in a different reality, it is impossible
to talk to them about certain things. For instance, they get upset when
Spouse doesn’t come with me on lunch or dinner outings with them (she does
come most of the time, but sometimes she just can’t take it). If they
weren’t living in Bizarro World, I could easily explain to them that Spouse
still feels uncomfy around them due to the past (and, to a certain degree,
continuing) bitchiness. Then they could talk to Spouse about this and get
everything aired out. But I can’t tell them that, because in their version
of reality, they were never the least bit unpleasant to Spouse. Thus, they
become hurt and offended and blame Spouse, and the cycle begins anew.
Again, this isn’t a Spouse-specific problem; it’s simply the latest version
of an old problem.
A corollary to living in Bizarro World is that my parents are always right.
About everything and anything. Recently, they asked Friend if he ever went
sailing. He said yes. They said that he must not have gone sailing while
growing up (in the Chicago suburbs). He casually mentioned that Chicago sits
on a vast body of water called Lake Michigan and you can, in fact, sail on
the lake. Immediately they started backpedalling, pointing out that while
yes, Lake Michigan does technically count as a place where you can sail,
they were actually talking about the rest of the Midwest. Satisfied that
they were right, they ignored further proof that the Midwest has lakes where
sailing is possible. Why can’t they just say, “Oh right, forgot about Lake
Michigan,” and move on? I don’t know.
Are you finding that this letter is tiresome, tedious, et cetera? It’s like that
all the time. It just saps my strength, to the point where I can’t even
muster the energy to participate in conversations with them. I’ve halted
things mid-discussion because I can’t stand the circular, irritating nature
of the conversation. I’ve literally said, “Please, let’s stop talking about
this because it’s going nowhere.” I’ve actually hung up (politely, not just
slamming down the phone) when they wouldn’t stop arguing with me about some
minor, utterly unimportant point. You know, like sailing opportunities in
the Midwest.
Can you see any way out of this? I’d like it if my parents and I inhabited
the same, or at least similar, realities. I’d like to be able to talk to
them normally and easily (and I can’t even tell them that, because when I do,
they don’t understand why I can’t, because they don’t remember any of the
past issues, blah blah blah). I’d like it if things were mostly settled
between my parents and Spouse. I can’t keep expecting Spouse to take the
high road or dodge parental encounters. Mainly, though, I’d just like to
have actual conversations with my parents. Any advice?
Thanks,
You Love Lima Beans. No, I’ve Always Hated Them. No, You Love Them. No,
I’ve Told You For Twenty-Plus Years That I Don’t Like Lima Beans. But You
Always Ate Them! No, I Didn’t. [sound of my head exploding]
Dear Lima,
Your parents won’t change. You can’t make them see reason. You have to accept those facts as facts, once and for all, and start behaving accordingly, in a fashion designed to minimize your own feelings of annoyance and guilt. I would suggest 1) spending less time with them, 2) caring less about their versions of events, and 3) learning phrases like “this conversation is over,” “this subject is closed,” “that’s not what happened, but let’s just move on,” and “whatever.”
I understand that you want to have a genuine relationship with your parents, one that’s not based on their weird non-reality or on scuffling Kurosawa-style over past conversations — but it’s just not going to happen. It’s disappointing, but it’s time to give up hope.
Don’t engage them. Don’t get into discussions about what did or didn’t happen last week or ten years ago or whatever — when it starts verging into fantasyland, just say something to the effect of “yeah, let’s not” and change the subject, and if they won’t, just leave. Don’t do it to try to teach them a lesson; it’s not about them learning that their behavior has consequences. Do it because life is short and it’s not a lesson they’ll ever learn anyway, if that makes any sense.
I seriously need an objective view, because I’m trapped between an emotional
rock and a hypersensitive hard place. While I think I know the cold answer
to the problem, I need to find a resolution that will not destroy my family
and my own happiness.
Briefly, I met a nice man a couple of years ago and we had been planning for
a year to move in together. The problem was that my 25-year-old daughter was
living with me in a small apartment, and there wasn’t room for the three of
us. Her boyfriend had come to stay with us for a while; they planned to
move out together, and my boyfriend would move in.
My daughter moved out; she ended breaking up with her boyfriend and has
since been struggling to support herself. In the meantime, my boyfriend
moved in, lost his dotcom job, and has been struggling to support himself.
She resents the fact that he’s now living with me, essentially rent-free,
while she is scrambling to find money for rent and bills each month.
Whenever she is around, she snarks at him constantly, and they’ve developed a
real hatred for each other. She because she’s decided he’s a leech, and he
because she is rude and barely civil to him.
She’s becoming more desperate and is now insisting that I tell my boyfriend to
move out so she can rightfully regain her place in my home. If I had my way,
both my daughter and boyfriend would be self-supporting, find their own
places, and leave me alone! Okay, not really — I love and adore both of them and
wish they could get along. However, I feel that as a 49-year-old woman, I
have a right to live with the man I’ve searched my whole life for, and as a
25-year-old woman, my daughter needs to suck it up, find some better-paying
jobs, and support herself.
I want to tell my daughter this, but to be honest she frightens me. She
becomes hysterical, cries, and threatens to kill herself. I’ve offered to
help her cover her bills for a couple of months, although it will be quite a
hardship for me to do so. My boyfriend is looking for work and has picked up
some consulting work here and there, but not enough for him to move out on
his own.
Can you think of any kind of compromise I can work out to make
everyone happy, or am I just dreaming that such a thing is possible?
Down and out in Santa Monica
Dear Down,
Not to dismiss your daughter’s threats entirely here — I don’t doubt that she’s miserable on some level — but I suspect that she wails and moans and threatens suicide because it’s a successful manipulation tool. It’s time to call her bluff.
Tell her what you told me. Do it nicely, but point out that it’s time for her to grow up and treat you and your boyfriend with a modicum of respect. You love her, and you’ll help her out if you can, but she’s over 18 and she no longer has The Right to dictate who lives where — or to throw bratty tantrums when she doesn’t get what she wants. Either she starts showing you and your boyfriend some manners, or she can stop coming around.
Your daughter can shift for herself and act right. Stop expecting any less from her.
Tags: etiquette kids the fam
