The Mother-in-Law

but I doubt there is a loss in the universe more profound than a daughter losing her mother.

I worked hard for everything I ever cared about, & nothing I ever cared about cost a single cent." ~ Mum

People underestimate the role fate plays in our lives.

Sons see the best parts of you, but daughters really see you. They see your flaws and your weaknesses. They see everything they don’t want to be. They see you for exactly who you are … and they hate you for it.

Who are we after we’re gone? I wonder. It’s a good question to ponder. Most people can’t come up with an answer right away. They frown, consider it for a minute. Maybe even sleep on it. Then the answers start to come. We’re our children. Our grandchildren. Our great-grandchildren. We’re all the people who will go on to live, because we lived. We are our wisdom, our intellect, our beauty, filtered through generations, continuing to spill into the world and make a difference.

maybe, she was so busy looking at the problems in the world, she forgot to give chances to those right under her nose.

To my family and friends who live in terror of being cast as a villain in one of my books. It's a valid fear. Be nice to me.

Some people jumped in and tried to save someone who was in trouble; others did anything they could to save themselves.

. . . there’s really only two pieces of wisdom worth leaving behind. I worked hard for everything I ever cared about. And nothing I ever cared about cost a singly cent.

We’re our children. Our grandchildren. Our great-grandchildren. We’re all the people who will go on to live, because we lived. We are our wisdom, our intellect, our beauty, filtered through generations, continuing to spill into the world and make a difference.

Someone once told me that you have two families in your life—the one you are born into and the one you choose. But that’s not entirely true, is it? Yes, you may get to choose your partner, but you don’t, for instance, choose your children. You don’t choose your brothers- or sisters-in-law, you don’t choose your partner’s spinster aunt with the drinking problem or cousin with the revolving door of girlfriends who don’t speak English. More importantly, you don’t choose your mother-in-law. The cackling mercenaries of fate determine it all.

I doubt there is a loss in the universe more profound than a daughter losing her mother.

I might not be the best conversationalist.. but I'm not a bad listener.

Your mother was my life partner, he always says, and a life partner is for life.

It is just a problem, Antoinette, he would probably have said, and a problem is only a problem until you solve it.

If you ask me, everyone is a little too interested in their children’s happiness. Ask anyone what they wish for their kids and they’ll all say they want them to be happy. Happy! Not empathetic contributing members of society. Not humble, wise and tolerant. Not strong in the face of adversity or grateful in the face of misfortune. I, on the other hand, have always wanted hardship for my kids. Real, honest hardship. Challenges big enough to make them empathetic and wise. Take the pregnant refugee girls I deal with every day. They’ve been through unimaginable hardships, and here they are working hard, contributing and grateful. What more could you want for your kids?

By the time I get out of the shower, Tom is in bed. At first I think he is asleep, but as soon as I crawl in beside him, his eyes open. “How are you going to live without me?” he says. We both chuckle, even as a tear slides from the corner of Tom’s eye. “I won’t,” I say, and then he reaches for me and we don’t talk anymore

It’s funny, what the younger generation assumes we don’t know. They assume we couldn’t possibly understand the agony of heartbreak, or the pressure of buying a house. We couldn’t understand infertility or depression or the fight for equality. If we have experienced any of these things, they were milder, softer versions, played out in sepia, not experiences that could compare to theirs. You have no idea what I know, I want to tell her. Instead I open my arms and let her lie against my shoulder and cry.

Being poor and having to survive without my parents was the single most defining thing I’ve ever done. It showed me what I was capable of. As a mother, I think this is the most important gift you can give to your children. Unlike money, it can’t be taken away or lost.

It’s the truth. Ollie and Nettie would never help me. I’m their mother, which means in our relationship they will always be children, and will only see things from their own perspectives.

My children, on the other hand, have been given every chance. Now it’s time for me to stay out of the way and see what they make of the opportunities they’ve been given.

They say little boys love their mothers, and I think there is something to it. Little girls love their mothers, too, of course, but a little boy’s love for his mother is pure, untainted. Boys see their mothers in the most primal way, a protector, devotee, a disciple. Sons bask in their

barely set Archie on the floor without Diana gasping. It’s so foreign to me. My own mother couldn’t have cared less about artwork or sculptures. If she’d had the chance to be a grandmother, all the artwork on her walls would have been painted by her grandchildren, and she only would have gasped when I told the kids it was bedtime. (“Don’t be ridiculous kids! You’re staying up late with Nana tonight.”)