The Devil Wears Polyester

I must begin by apologizing profusely to my readers, especially to those who have submitted MIL stories for me to share. While I hadn't checked my email in months, I have finally started wading through it, and I promise to get your stories queued up, and post each and every one. I'm incredibly grateful for my faithful readers and my new followers. I have been enjoying catching up on all the comments I've missed! I had a busy summer, and now autumn has brought many changes to my life. A lame excuse, but that's my excuse, nonetheless. Fortunately, I am fine. Thank you, readers, for your loyalty and concern, but the Devil has NOT got the best of me. Now let's get back to business: bad-mouthing our mothers-in-law all over the Internet.

Kansas Girl submitted this hilarious post about her own polyester-clad Devil.



Now, don't get me wrong, I adore my children - but before I had them, I had some serious fun.

And then when I was 27, I got married and had my first of many (2) children. I had just turned 30 when my daughter was born; it was understood I would quit my job and become a stay-at-home mom. The world was calm and peaceful. I bought a jogging stroller and ran through the neighborhood everyday with baby Alli. Life at 30 wasn't the same as life at 22, but it was relatively nice.

Alas, there came a bump in the road... I was awakened one morning by the sound of the house shaking. The floor split open and flames shot up. I grabbed my baby girl and huddled in the corner as the devil rose from the pits of hell. I'd seen a lot of pictures of the devil - you know, dressed in red, horns, long tail, etc, etc, etc. But the devil that entered my house was wearing a double knit polyester pantsuit and bad wig. Baby Alli and I were informed that the devil was moving in. And we wept. OK, I wept. Oh, how I freakin' wept.

I know everyone has stories about how bad their mother-in-law is/was/can be, but my stories, I'm sure, are worse. The woman never stopped talking! Long, boring, pointless stories - well, I believe in total she had only 3 stories, so, she kept repeating them over and over until you wanted to rip the wig off her head and smack her with it. She liked to look out the window while she talked and one day I realized: I can leave the room while she's talking and she would never notice. And that's what I would do.

What was worse than having to listen to my mother-in-law? Actually having a conversation with her. Here's a sampling of a few:

Me: I'm making chicken for dinner tonight.
MIL: Stop using pepper when you cook, because I'm allergic to it.
Me: What? No, you aren't! How are you allergic to pepper?
MIL: It makes me sneeze.
Me: It seems the whole world is allergic to pepper then.
MIL: I don't like sarcasm - it's not funny.

(Driving out to eat.)
MIL: Did you see that huge dead dog in the middle of the road?
Me: No, that was just a flattened cardboard box.
MIL: I KNOW WHAT I SAW AND THAT WAS A DAMN DEAD DOG DON'T TELL ME I DON'T KNOW WHAT I SAW BECAUSE THAT WAS SO OBVIOUSLY A DAMN DEAD DOG YOU THINK I'M SO STUPID I DON'T KNOW WHAT A DAMN DEAD DOG IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD LOOKS LIKE?
Me: Obviously not, because that was a cardboard box.
(Husband turns car around and we freakin' drive back to the box in the road.)
MIL: Well, that's not what I was talking about. I saw a dead dog and it's gone now.
Me: I'm sure it magically got better and ran away.
MIL: I don't like sarcasm - it's not funny.

Me: I hate to tear myself away from your always entertaining story, but I have to feed the baby.
MIL: Why are you breast feeding my grandchild?
Me: Because I think I read somewhere that if you don't feed a baby it will die.
MIL: I don't like sarcasm - it's not funny.
Me: I didn't know that.
MIL: Baby formula is much better for a baby than breast milk.
Me: What? Where did you hear this?
MIL: When I had my babies the hospital nurse told me I should not breast feed, because it's not good for the baby.
Me: She probably only meant you, because you act like someone all whacked out on PCP.
MIL: What?
Me: That was sarcasm - and it was funny.

Totally Worth The Heat And The Crowds And The Exhaustion

Annual family membership to the zoo: $60

Carousel rides for 3 kids: $5.50

Cotton candy, popcorn, and lemonade: $14

The joy I get from telling The Devil that we already have plans when she calls to invite the kids over to her house to swim: Priceless.

Just Like Poetic Justice

This is fucking great.


I have young children and a rule that no balls are to be thrown inside the house. Too dangerous. Too many chances for breakage or injury or tears. Common sense, right? Occasionally, much to my chagrin, my husband (the Anti-Christ?) can be found tossing a ball back and forth in the living room with one or more children, resulting in nagging and heated discussion about consistent discipline, much to my husband's (the Anti-Christ's?) chagrin. This happened again last week.

Several days later, during a small family gathering in our home, my son, in a moment of unbridled excitement, threw a ball at top speed across the living room, attempting to hit his father (the Anti-Christ?). Guess where it landed instead. Right in the middle of The Devil's bloated, thin-lipped, unsuspecting face.

No bloody nose or black eye for The Devil, but a moment I'll never forget, nonetheless.

"Manipulative Bitch" Has A Nice Ring To It.

I was thinking the other day of ways I could get to The Devil. I mean, really get under her skin.

I've always called her by her first name, although I try and avoid addressing her directly at all. I was thinking that she'd find it very unsettling if, out of the blue, I just started calling her "Mom". I can imagine perfectly her showing up at my door (since I'm no longer welcome in her home, but that's another, very long, post) and me greeting her with a warm smile and a pleasant "Hi, Mom, come on in!" Just picturing the look on her face, and the way she'd be struck speechless for several seconds as she struggled to comprehend what was happening brings me such pleasure! I know she'd find this terribly disturbing and would probably spend days, if not weeks, trying to analyze and understand what this kind of development could mean. I'm sure she'd lose sleep over it. I bet she would call friends and family and ask for advice and opinions on the matter. If only I thought I could actually go through with it. With a straight face.

What do you call your mother-in-law? And what do you call her to her face?