Frustration, Thy Name is FIL.

As you probably know, I have a great relationship with my parents. While my mom wasn't thrilled that I'd applied for a job while I have only one year left with the boys before they go to school full-time, she knew that it was a job I was really interested in, and that I'm really not actively pursuing any other opportunities at this time. She also knows that if this job doesn't pan out for me, I'll go right on living my life.

They've also been enormously helpful as we've been trying to clean up our financial situation over the last several years. When Beebie was three, R got laid off from his job and then I got laid off from my job four months later (both due to the Dot Com implosion). We lived on unemployment, WIC, public assistance, food pantries, and my parents' generousity. They helped pay our rent, COBRA and paid for various other things, including a car since between us we did not have reliable transportation. And they encouraged us, never making us feel that we were at fault for the situation we were in.

R didn't let on to his parents that we were in as bad a situation as we were. I think eventually he told them that were weren't working, but I'm never privy to their conversations. And they would never have known that my parents were helping us at all except that we showed up at the Aldis' house for something in the new car and they asked us about it. R reluctantly stammered that it was a gift from my parents. Shortly thereafter, his parents gave us a check for $500. Not to be outdone or anything.

A few weeks later was Easter. Beeb was still potty training and sometime before we all sat down to eat a fancy expensive brunch, she had a lil bitty poopy accident in her pants. I had forgotten to bring a change of panties for her since I really didn't think she'd need it, but I spent about 30 minutes in the restaurant bathroom trying to wash her panties out in the sink and dry them with the dryer on the wall. It was horrible.

When I got back to the table, I decided that I had earned myself a Mimosa for all my trouble, so, in accordance with the "go ahead and order your drinks" directive given by MIL. I talked R into ordering one with me. When FIL got the bill, he demanded to know who had ordered a $4 Mimosa. I confessed that R and I did.

"WE TREAT YOU TO A GREAT, VERY EXPENSIVE BRUNCH, AND THAT'S NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?"

Very, VERY loudly. Totally making a scene.

R apologized and offered to pay him back.

"I JUST GAVE YOU FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS AND YOU'RE GONNA TURN AROUND AND GIVE ME EIGHT?"

My brother in law Mr. Lexus offered to pay it.

"NO, I DON'T THINK THEY UNDERSTAND - IT'S THE PRINCIPLE OF IT!"

This went on for hours after we left the restaurant, and he even brought it up the next time R spoke to him a week later. I'm not kidding.

So how could we make this right? We couldn't. We had to sit and listen and take his wrath until he felt like we'd suffered enough, and there was no telling how long that might be.

It was without question one of the absolute worst moments of my entire life. No question. Frankly, I'm still not over it. Especially because every Easter since, I have been reminded in front of the entire family NOT to order an alcoholic beverage with brunch, like I need reminding.

Cut to last night, when R made his weekly phone call home to tell them the filtered version of what we've done for the previous week. Everything he tells them passes through a filter based on What We Think FIL Will Freak Out About. This filter, I should mention, is not 100% foolproof. Sometimes FIL freaks out about shit we wouldn't expect him to.

We expected him to ask us, once again, if we'd had a chance to look at all of the home loan information he "happened upon" a few weeks ago and forwarded to us. In fact, he told R "Oh, Sarah can take care of it." which R then passed on to me with the spin of it being a compliment to my ability to handle financial matters. Riiiiight. I'm starting to see that R also uses a filter to decide how he's going to relay to me the various things that his dad has said.

R told FIL that it had been a particularly busy week for me and I'd not had a chance to sit down with all the info FIL wanted us to read over. I'd had a job interview Wednesday and had to take Pie to his urologist immediately afterwards which took the entire day, and then Friday I had to work in the library. And I have the boys home with me all day on Tuesdays and Thursdays which makes doing anything productive close to impossible.

According to R, FIL is concerned that I am "focusing too much on one thing", meaning that I am foolish to look for a job as it would make more sense for us to buy a house and THEN allow me to look for a job. R explained that I'm not "looking for a job" per se, but this particular opportunity came up and it was something that I was really interested in, so I went ahead and applied. Well, FIL thinks that this is a huge mistake, especially since the various home loan programs he told us about have an income cap which would be in jeopardy if I happened to get this job.

This REALLY pissed me off. Really a lot. Suddenly I saw FIL's earlier "compliment" as a completely disrespectful comment on how I can take care of this home loan bullshit because I have nothing better to do and I obviously sit around the house eating bonbons all day. And I can't really vent to R about it because I hate that he's in the middle of FIL and me as it is.

R keeps trying to assure me that FIL means well, and I guess I know that he does, but I can't seem to get past the fact that we didn't ASK for his help. And if he was making a suggestion, let it be that, and if we choose not to take it, then back the fuck off and shut up about it. But he NEVER does. It's never a suggestion, it's a thinly-veiled edict.

And why is he persecuting me for going after a job that might possibly offer me the sense of personal fulfillment that I'm NOT getting from being a stay-at-home mom. And part of the reason why I'm not getting it is because I feel like a complete failure as a parent. Why? Because that is how he makes me feel ALL THE TIME.

I have spent the last ten years of my life trying to earn his respect. And I've exhausted myself both physically and emotionally doing so. I honestly don't believe that having his respect would even really make me happy, so I don't know why I try so hard, but I guess I just assume that that's the reason why our relationship is so hurtful to me and so, conversely, if he did respect me maybe it would be better. In my heart I know that it's impossible to please him. He finds fault with everyone, even those that he is supposed to love most.

He criticizes his highly-favored daughter, a very successful surgeon who has Valedictorian of her high school class, and even his own wife's cooking after she's been slaving in the kitchen all day - the pie's crust isn't flaky enough or the meat is dry or whatever. MIL's dealt with it for so long, she criticizes herself unfairly before he can do it. I remember that clearly from the first time I met his parents - I complimented her on the dinner and she commented that it should have been better. FIL wholeheartedly agreed. I remember being kinda shocked by that. My dad would NEVER do that to my mom, and R would NEVER do it to me.

I do try to convince myself that he means well and that his way of showing love is by telling you how you can achieve excellence because he assumes that's what we all want. But the reality of it is that to him, excellence means pefection, and he's telling you every single thing that you've done wrong in a completely unloving manner. It's extremely hurtful. I see the damage it's done to R after an entire lifetime of it, and I'm feeling how it's crushed so much of my spirit and confidence after a relatively short time. I was a much stronger person before I began reporting to FIL. I never needed meds before I married into his kingdom.

The thing that pisses me off the most is that every single time we try to do something THAT IS NONE OF HIS FUCKING BUSINESS, we have to make extra special sure that he doesn't find out about it or else we'll get a fucking earful. And any joy we may have felt in attempting to do something on our own is quickly annihilated.

When Beeb was about a year old, we actually signed a contract on a house that was in an area of town that FIL didn't approve of (despite the fact that R had grown up there). At the time, we'd only been married a little while and I didn't understand why R didn't want to tell FIL. Wouldn't he be happy for us? Then WHY did R allow me to go ahead and be happy and excited about it when he knew FIL was going to undermine it? And FIL did - we got out of the contract to stay in FIL's good graces. And look at all the good it did.

I've talked at length about FIL to my therapist Penny, and she actually suggested that the next time he hurts my feelings, I should very cautiously let him know. What harm could it do? Maybe I'll try it. But nobody ever really knows exactly what harm crossing FIL can do because nobody's ever done it.

If he dropped straight dead tomorrow, I wouldn't shed one single tear. No one would. What a tragic legacy to leave behind.