Update on Things with MIL, Pt.3

Monday morning.  My poor MIL. 

I should pause for a moment and explain that while we were up in Chico for Christmas, MIL and FIL and MIL's mother were all recovering from some kind of bad cold, and were still coughing and clearly not feeling 100% normal, even though they all said were fine.   So now here they had just skipped church and driven down five hours to bring the kids back to us, because of the trouble with FIL's truck, which was not our fault but which necessitated the change in plans and which definitely inconvenienced them more than we would have liked.  Then they were now at our house, a place that MIL already finds stressful and unpleasant for so many reasons.  She still had a bad cough, and she was likely tired from taking care of extra people for almost 2 weeks, and with her back hurting the whole time.  And I am betting she had packed up ALL THE TOO MUCH STUFF for the kids (we had packed up all the gifts and brought them back with us, so the only things needed packing were the kids clothes and their backpacks, which had their water bottles, books for the car, etc.) without asking for help so her back was probably really hurting her by the time they got to our place--and then she and FIL spent the night sleeping out in the freezing cold on foam mattresses in the back of FIL's pickup truck. 

I am sharing all this detail because I really want to tell you this story but not be unfairly hard on MIL. I want to show how much she was working hard to actively show love to us, and how much she sacrificed for it.

Of course, this is all actually their choice, which they insist upon doing, even the sleeping in the truck.  They own a motorhome, but they don't like to drive it because it uses too much gas and is a pain to back into the driveway.  Also, they always want to bring firewood with them, which they can't do it they drive the motorhome. So they don't bring the motorhome when they come to stay with us.  They also own a big van that has seats that fold down to make beds and that has a little kitchenette and closet.  They used to drive that down, hauling a trailer full of firewood.  But then something happened to the trailer so they can't use it to haul wood anymore, and so now they choose to load up FIL's big pickup truck with wood and drive it down instead. We all help empty it immediately after they arrive and then they clean out the truck bed and lay down foam mattresses and turn that into their private space for the duration of the stay.  As you can see, they care so much about bringing us firewood that they gladly sacrifice their own energy and comfort for it.  They spend a lot of time and money and physical exertion buying and then loading and unloading that wood, and then they get to sleep in what must be a fairly uncomfortable bed for their troubles. And they are not young people, either, although clearly they are tough and practical, and I appreciate both of those qualities in them--but c'mon, that must not feel good when waking up in the morning.

They usually don't complain, and insist it is comfortable and quite warm when they have been in there a while, but once in a while MIL lets a comment slip that shows it is really not all that comfortable.  I imagine the worst parts are not having a bathroom and having to move around (and dress!) in a crouch.

And while it used to be that they could get really good wood for cheap, because of all the orchards around Chico, that's not the case anymore, and so there is really no point to them making all these sacrifices for us.  We live in a heavily wooded area, with local orchards too.  But this is just one way they want to show their love, and if they insist upon doing it,  how can we say no?  (I prefer to save my "no's" for things that really matter.) The only problems are A the guilt that I sometimes feel directed at us for all the sacrifice they are making for us because of the wood, which I just try not to allow myself to accept.  And B, the problem of MIL and FIL having likely crappy night's sleep when they are here, and likely feeling like we are not appreciating them, and maybe even on some level feeling cast out from our lives, as we are all warm and cozy in our house and they have to go sleep out in the cold and uncomfortable truck.

I also feel a little guilt because I am really glad they go sleep elsewhere, and I don't care if it's in a truck as long as it is not in my house.  I do not at all want them to be uncomfortable, but really, we all need even just a little space away, a little break from one another during visits, and that is really hard to come by in a house the size of ours!  They come into the house before 7 (which you realize means they come into the equivalent of our bedroom at 7) and then stay (in our bedroom) until often 11 at night.  The only reprieve we ever get from each other's company is when I invent errands to run alone (sometimes legitimate ; ), or when I'm working in the kitchen and don't need help and MIL goes to read with the kids or browse facebook (thank the Good Lord for facebook and touchpads).  You can appreciate how that much time together without break would get a little strained after a while, even for people who genuinely like and are comfortable around each other!  So while we have offered to give them our bed when they visit, or a blow up on the floor, I am very relieved that they always decline, saying their pickup "bed" is perfectly good.

Except we all know it is probably not really, esp. when you are getting older and are sick and cold and in pain!  So that Sunday night DH and I tried to encourage them to swap with us and take our bed while we stayed in the truck, but they were insistent.  They even declined the heater we tried to foist on them, since it was getting down to the upper 30's in the night.  So all this is to say that I think these things are all very relevant to how things went down Monday morning. 

Like the Titanic.

The kids were fast asleep (tired from all the late nights and excitement at Oma and Opa's, and happy to be back in their own cramped beds ; ) that morning when MIL came in the house around 7:30.  FIL was already working on repairing his truck, I was making breakfast, and DH was getting ready for work.  MIL started in on her son there in the living room, giving him a hard time for the beds not being done, and saying things like how our children's little hearts were absolutely crushed when they realized the beds were not done.  I stepped away from the kitchen to defend DH, and MIL immediately rebuked me for entering into a conversation that I was not a part of.  I just took a deep breath, bit my tongue, and resumed work in the kitchen.  But my heart was racing, and I had the weight of certainty on me--I knew we could not just leave it at that.  Once DH was gone, MIL and I  were going to have to find resolution to the conflict that had just reared its head between us.  And it was probably not going to be pretty.  But it was time, and it was necessary, and with God's grace and the power of the Holy Spirit, it might even end up Good.


(Again, to be continued.  I'm writing as fast as I can in the breaks I have--really nice ones today, unexpectedly!--and might be able to post more tonight)