MIL Management 101.
I don’t know why I keep forgetting this rule but I do. Every morning I like to wake up slowly sipping my tea and eating in peace and quiet. But when Mama is home this is impossible! My husband smartly takes his shower first…which leaves me in the tiny kitchen tripping over his mom while she insists on making her coffee at the exact same time as I prepare my tea.
Exhibit A. I stand in front of the sink filling the kettle with water whilst Mama reaches across me, grabs the coffee pot and dumps the old grinds in the sink.
Never put clothes in the washing machine to be washed later…Mama will throw some hairy, black sock in there at the last moment and turns the washing machine on, forgetting to add soap of course, and later turns everything grey and hairy!
Never expect her NOT to be hungry. Exhibit A. I made couscous yesterday. She asked me what it was for (this was after she ate dinner). I said to eat whenever we want. She said but we’re going out for lunch tomorrow. I said, that’s okay, it will keep in the fridge and we can have it for dinner tomorrow night. Two hours later Mama’s got her head in the fridge asking if she can have some couscous.
Never, EVER, go out in public with this woman! (See below)
Lunch the Italian way. I don’t think I will ever get used to 4 hour lunches no matter how long I live in Genova. Today, a small group of us went to a restaurant in the storico centre and feasted on mountains of food.
Eating lunch with this bunch (in particular I mean Mama), is a bit of a scary ordeal. We arrived early and half our party wasn’t there yet. Parking in this part of town can be tricky and so it’s not unusual for people to be late. As Mama’s knees shook, her classic impatience ensued as she interrogated the poor waitress about the menu which was right in front of her. The deep fryer was broken and so Mama wanted to leave. Oh boy, here we go! We managed to get her to calm down a bit and luckily the other half of our party arrived just in time to save the drama.
Firstly, I made the mistake of sitting in between her and my husband. As platters of food arrived, piled high with fish, Mama kept sticking her fork, arm, or a plate across my face to offer, take etc. from my husband’s plate. Timed perfectly of course in the precise moments that I was about to put my fork in my mouth.
She talks with her mouth full then starts choking and steals my water (I’m okay with this if it makes her stop choking of course). Both Uncles have got gobs of pesto on their chins and I’m asking myself why there isn’t any wine on our table? A very large glass of wine could be very useful at this moment as I cringe to watch this group eat. I’m thinking to myself at what point should I indicate to one of the uncles that he’s got a large goop of pesto on his chin?
Then there’s my favourite Aunt, Zia O. I asked my husband, why can’t she be your mom? She is stylish and always impeccably dressed. She’s slim and sleek and dressed in matching jewel tones of Gucci and Roberto Cavalli and she smells nice too. How can these two women possibly be sisters??? *Sigh*