This morning when I walked into my kitchen, half asleep and
groping for my tea kettle, I passed by the calendar and noticed something that
slapped the sleep from my eyes and froze me in place. IT’S FEBRUARY!
Okay, okay, I know it’s February, as in the month that comes
between January and March, but I just realized it’s FEBRUARY, as in a mere five
months before my baby, my younger son (Son
No. 2 – in birth order only! – is how I usually refer to him) marries his
high school sweetheart!
And you know what that means. In five short months, I’ll go
from being someone’s boyfriend’s mother to being someone’s MOTHER-IN-LAW.
Could be there a more maligned title/position in our culture
than the mother-in-law? Anyone remember Rodney Dangerfield’s famous “Take my
mother-in-law...please?
Here’s a clip from Jeff Foxworthy titled “The Mother-in-Law
Joke” as if no more explanation is needed.
I love how after the punch line he says, “It ain’t right but
you laughed at it!”
Then there was the famous “MONSTER-In-Law” movie with Jane
Fonda and Jennifer Lopez.
Enough said.
It’s not bad enough that when scriptwriters want to turn on
the waterworks they kill the mother. (If you haven’t noticed, trust me, it’s
always the mother.) Conversely, writers can rely on a cheap laugh by making any
undead mother an in-law.
Thankfully, I have a great relationship with my future
daughter-in-law. (For purposes of this
blog, I’ll call her Sally.) Sally and
Son No. 2 have been together since high school. So what I had to find out they
were dating from a friend who saw the two of them holding hands at the town’s
annual fair. That’s his fault, not hers. He was probably worried I’d start
grilling her like a cheese sandwich. He was wrong. I have much more subtle
means of ferreting out the information I want.
Anyway, she and I bake cookies together, go to movies
together, and I even went wedding gown shopping with her and her mom. (I was so
honored to be included...truly. And yes, I cried when she said yes to the
dress.) I love her and honestly look at her as the daughter I never had. (How
lucky am I?)
But there is one troubling aspect of my soon-to-be in-law
status: My name, or title.
Up until that point Sally had always called me “Mrs.,” despite
my repeated pleas for her to “just call me Leah.” When he popped the question,
however, she figured it was time to take the next step and address me by something
that doesn’t make me sound like her second grade teacher.
And “just my name” made sense. Right? I knew she would never feel comfortable
calling me “Mom” (and her mother, understandably, would be less than keen on
it).
The first time she called me “Leah” it was kind of weird,
for both of us, but we knew it would become easier with time and practice. She
is still calling my husband “Mr.” but I can’t worry about him now. I have
bigger issues. Something happened over Christmas as we exchanged gifts across
the greater family landscape.
Sally, my future daughter-in-law, who will call me just
Leah, addressed my sister as “Aunt....”
Huh. My sister is a beloved aunt but I’m just plain old
no-title “Leah”?
I understand why the aunt bit. My sister is a wonderful
person—loving and kind and tons of fun. Also, I realize aunt is more of a
generic title than “mother,” often reserved for close friends you want to incorporate
into more of a family role.
But still...I’m the MOTHER of her future husband, for crying
out loud. I introduced her to cookie baking and taught her our cherished family
recipes. Can’t I get a bit of an elevation here, more than just my name,
something that denotes a real family relationship? Can’t I get a freakin’ title?
After I got over the shock, I started researching
alternatives to “Mom” and “Leah.”
“Ma” felt so wrong. First of all, it’s what I (reluctantly)
called my mother-in-law because that’s what my hubby called her. From him it
sounded loving and right; from me it sounded like I time-traveled to the middle
The Grapes of Wrath country.
“Mother” is too formal. “Mother Leah” is even worse. As one
friend told me, “You sound like Mother Superior.” “Mama Leah” sounds like a kosher pizza...and
so on and so on.
Still, I was determined and started venting my dilemma to
everyone who would listen, until I found it—a good alternative to “Mom” that
would make me feel like I was part of Sally’s family. I got this from a friend
who is German (really German...from Germany):
Mutti (pronounced mooti) is a German word for Mom or Mommy.
How perfect! I thought. I’m of German descent. Sally is part
Indian (as in Asian Indian) and the word kind of sounds Indian...at least the
way my German friend pronounced it.
Armed with my find, I texted my son to feel him out. “Say,
uh...how would Sally like to call me Mutti instead of Leah?” I explained the roots
of the word, adding that I know Sally is uncomfortable with just Leah. After
about five minutes, he got back to me, so I know he was conferring with her. The
response? “That’s okay, Mom. She’s fine with Leah.”
I have to admit I was a bit hurt. But when I asked him why
she calls my sister “Aunt,” my hurt disappeared. He explained that Sally doesn’t
have a good relationship with her real aunts, and having an aunt she can love
makes her feel better.
Hey, I can’t argue with that. I think that’s sweet and I’m
happy to share my wonderful sister with her. As for me, just call me Leah.
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Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil, and the power of love. She loves Facebook visitors where she often posts about her son's kitten Hercules. She blogs here on the 6th and 22nd of each month.
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