Mother-In-Love
My mother-in-law's 70th birthday, the other day, was not, for me, a cause for great joy, nor grief. But my ambivalence about it was distracted by many, many things that kept us busy as participants for a big party, the planning of which was initiated by another, more favored daughter-in-law.
Mommy, being the ultimate drama queen (for which I attribute the redeeming value of 'colorful' to her otherwise being the occasional in-law from hell), must have had an inkling about preparations being made, but declared everyday of the two weeks leading to her birthday, that the last thing she wanted was to celebrate. And then, as is typical of her, she'd badger her life companion, who everyone in the family called Tita (Aunt), if there would be, for instance, a string quartet or a surprise number by her grandchildren to who, for all her faults, she earns the right to be called perpetual Grandma of the Year. In other words she knew, resisted vehemently, seemingly, but kept dropping hints about what she wanted to happen in that party. How dramatic. Most days, I call that schizo.
Her birthday came and the party was splendid. It was a reunion with old familiar faces who have, over the years, persisted on being a part of this woman's life. There were tearful moments brought about by a collage of photographs that showed the dearly departed, like Daddy and her two best friends. And then there were her not so dear, and hardly departed ex daughters-in-law (who probably could not stand the mother as much as the sons, ahah!) among the family pictures, captured over the years of Birthdays and Christmases that were permanently consigned to memory but were temporarily outed from the vault at the time. There was much laughter and cheer provided by the grandchildren who sang, and danced. And the cutest portion of the program, I'd have to say, was the poetry reading by my little girl who wrote something for her Lola.
So, this morning, two days after, I get to receive all these beautiful flowers and fruits, coming from my mother-in-law's house, which, according to her, are spillage from an overflowing show of love and affection from friends and relatives which she says she barely has remaining space for in her condo. And then I think of the many probable reasons why people deem to send her the kind of flowers that they do. And as I look at all the flowers that deck my home now, courtesy of her, I realize that her gesture of sending them over here is not about her lack of space. It's really all about who she is and what she does, which makes me realize that I'm really happy to have her around on her 70th year. And I guess I'll feel the same even on her 80th.
Filed Under: Life
Mommy, being the ultimate drama queen (for which I attribute the redeeming value of 'colorful' to her otherwise being the occasional in-law from hell), must have had an inkling about preparations being made, but declared everyday of the two weeks leading to her birthday, that the last thing she wanted was to celebrate. And then, as is typical of her, she'd badger her life companion, who everyone in the family called Tita (Aunt), if there would be, for instance, a string quartet or a surprise number by her grandchildren to who, for all her faults, she earns the right to be called perpetual Grandma of the Year. In other words she knew, resisted vehemently, seemingly, but kept dropping hints about what she wanted to happen in that party. How dramatic. Most days, I call that schizo.
Her birthday came and the party was splendid. It was a reunion with old familiar faces who have, over the years, persisted on being a part of this woman's life. There were tearful moments brought about by a collage of photographs that showed the dearly departed, like Daddy and her two best friends. And then there were her not so dear, and hardly departed ex daughters-in-law (who probably could not stand the mother as much as the sons, ahah!) among the family pictures, captured over the years of Birthdays and Christmases that were permanently consigned to memory but were temporarily outed from the vault at the time. There was much laughter and cheer provided by the grandchildren who sang, and danced. And the cutest portion of the program, I'd have to say, was the poetry reading by my little girl who wrote something for her Lola.
So, this morning, two days after, I get to receive all these beautiful flowers and fruits, coming from my mother-in-law's house, which, according to her, are spillage from an overflowing show of love and affection from friends and relatives which she says she barely has remaining space for in her condo. And then I think of the many probable reasons why people deem to send her the kind of flowers that they do. And as I look at all the flowers that deck my home now, courtesy of her, I realize that her gesture of sending them over here is not about her lack of space. It's really all about who she is and what she does, which makes me realize that I'm really happy to have her around on her 70th year. And I guess I'll feel the same even on her 80th.Filed Under: Life
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