I'm not the first to deal with this

 It's hard to be honest in a blog when there is the potential for someone from your life to read it. I am not a food blogger whose big dark secret they plan to serve in their rambling post about eggs is how her and her dear husband made a pavlova every year on their anniversary and she cried when he had to travel for work one year and missed it. No one cares Lisa and they've already clicked 'Skip to Recipe.' When I'm honest in a blog I write about how I shit myself in Chicago, got my period without a tampon in Chicago, or took too hot of a shower in Chicago and made the fire alarm go off and the hotel manager ran to check on me. Lots of embarassment for me in Chicago. I have often shielded my blog from too much controversy even though it's really just me who reads it. When my company featured me for a video they wanted to show my blog. I quickly hid many of the posts because again I have tried to maintain my privacy and I don't want something to bite me in the ass. But someone just bit me in the ass and since I get more responses from a Magic 8 Ball than my husband who I'm starting to think believes we are limited to a set number of words per day I have no choice but to drop my shield and let loose.

My Mother in Law came to visit the baby. Hard to read is an understatement for her. While I think she wants to like me, it is very clear she does not. She gets me sweet gifts and I am thankful for them, but the Evil Queen gave Snow White an apple. Or like the settlers giving blankets to the Native Americans. You can give a gift and still hate the person. I've been trying to figure out my position in her life since the first time we met. She was mostly silent while her husband was willing to engage with me and ask me questions. Ky said she doesn't like to intrude. Ok I thought, carry on. It is clear my father in law likes me, he says as much. He is easy going and chatty. Flash forward a few years into dating and I am hearing from MILs friends that she doesn't like that I live on the east coast. Fair. It is a long flight from California. But under it I can feel she'd prefer Ky dump me. As that edginess grew I would never feel fully comfortable visiting. Like there was the desire to be unliked. I, sensing the awkwardness, would often perform like a jester and try to lighten the mood with stories. They have gone over like a lead balloon. At the end of the day we are just opposites in every way.

I am taller, she is shorter. I have one edge, it's my chin, she is all muscle. I hate sports, she lives for them. I am Christian, she is not. I like when Ky has a mustache which she responded "I'm full of shit." But it's true. I love a good stache. When I say something she says the opposite. Well during her visit I was picking up on the not so subtle cues that she wishes her son had married pretty much anyone else. Subtle cues like her telling Odin "will you be deprived of all good things?" and casually stating my neighborhood would never allow a Biden sign. I live in a state that has two democratic senators, a democratic state congress, a democratic governor, and we have voted for democrats in the past several presidential elections. My neighborhood is very liberal, in this huge subdivision there was not a single [name redacted] sign yet she called my neighbor a Republican for wearing pastel purple pants. She lives in Napa Valley. Sure those Californians are liberal there, but they tend to be the NIMBY types. As for purple pants that's just what east coast grandma's do! They wear bright colors with elastic waistbands, they bake carbs (or if they can't cook like my Mema they always had Vanilla Snackwells in the house and Starbursts in the car), and you can nuzzle into their soft bodies as you hug them. 

The colors we wear here did seem to strike a chord with her after some wine. Sensing all the colors and sundresses she said again this is how Republicans dress and probably why we all hate California. I amended we do not all hate California. She went on. In California they don't care how you dress and her friends would never wear a dress to dinner. Her giant diamond ring caught the setting sun and nearly blinded me during this statement. I wanted to say sure Californians dress like they fought a white paper bag and the bag won, or remind her that she lives in wine country where a burlap sack outfit costs $400. Meanwhile my very liberal brother in law loves wearing his lobster pants and Sperry boat shoes. Dressing like a Kennedy doesn't mean you vote like a bitch, I mean Mitch. Also it's humid here and a subdress lets your bits breath a lot more than shorts. I said how I got Ky to switch to cuter boxers because like a present, it's fun for things to be gussied up and color popped. I probably shouldn't have alluded to her son's crotch region as a present that needs unwrapping, but it went over as well as all my anecdotes. With a derisive look of "her?"

Despite the liberalism I know she takes me keeping my last name as a slap in the face. I just have an awesome name. If my last name was Schittberger or Woodcock sure I would have probably changed it. Subsequently I love my family and am very aware that women only took the man's last name in more recent history as they were considered the property of the man. Our son got a hypenated last name because I spent 9 months making him in my body and most artists sign their work. 

But the things I know she hates the most is my lack of love for sports. While I will categorically say I hate all sports that isn't quite true. I enjoy watching the Olympics here or there and there are certainly things I find entertaining. I do enjoy running and my own athletic pursuits, but I do it for myself. I don't see much entertainment value in watching people identify as border collies for the day and chase a ball. I certainly don't see eschewing academics in the persuit of sports like she did with her kids. Which is why my husband is probably Googling 'e-shoe-ing definition' right now. I love him, but he didn't learn words to good. 

But as I am not one to want an enemy because what adult wants that. Seriously what adult holds a grudge against their neighbor for 10+ years... Oh right. My MIL does. She hates her neighbor. So as I don't want to be gossiped about behind my back throughout my marriage (like I'm doing right now) I may make an effort. I may just pop on some pickleball gear, her sport du'jour, practice really hard, and become the champion daughter in law she wants. Someone competitive, fierce, and desparate for balls being lobbed at my face. Or I may stay the clever and vindictive cat that I am and casually mention pickleball was invented by a Republican congressman. Because let's face it, only rich Republicans types have time to retire and chase balls.