Melissa wrote a post the other day, referencing a call for essays on the topic of “Things I’d Never Tell My Mother.” My immediate response was, “Well… my first tattoo, trip to a nude beach, and incidence of public intoxication were while I was actually *with* my mother. So, that which I wouldn’t tell her is a pretty narrow and mundane list, I think.”

And, a few days later, it’s still on my mind, because I still haven’t come up with anything I would never tell my mom.

There are things I’d prefer her not to know, of course. Such as, I may never be able to forgive her for the time she was late for the Mix-98.5 Christmas concert that we entirely missed Melissa Etheridge’s performance and then she pouted so intensely that it was impossible for me to enjoy Gavin DeGraw, Guster or Sarah MacLachlan once we did arrive. Or the fact that I’ve really, honestly tried, but I just can’t seem to genuinely like any of her close friends. Oh, and, of course (gag) the fact that I’m pretty sure Willem and I overheard an intimate moment between her and my father – likely one of the last times ever, since they split up, what, 6 years ago?

But with any of those, if she found out, I’d cope. We’d cope. It would be fine.

Then there’s Willem, whose mother is not exactly what one might consider a kindred soul. Not kindred with my soul, anyway. There’s just too many past posts to choose one; just do a search on mother-in-law and the evidence abounds. We just don’t click.

But lots of people don’t click with their mothers-in-law, so that’s not such a big deal in and of itself. It’s that Willem doesn’t click with her either. He has to be reminded to call her with any sort of news, to wish a happy holiday of any kind, or with whatever other sorts of necessities come up, and I won’t remind him twice – so, on a regular basis, she goes uncalled. And that’s with the big stuff; I cannot remember him ever calling her just to chat.

Which is just sad, really. I wish he had a better, closer, happier relationship with her, because my relationship with my mom is a sort of stability and comfort for me. Not to mention that if he had a better relationship with her, then that might open the door for my relationship with her. But instead, it’s a huge awkward long-distance conundrum, just painful enough to keep everyone at arm’s length but not audacious enough to be able to just cut her off and be done.

It’s not my fault, either, I might add. In college, Willem went back to his parents’ house for the summer after his freshman year… and then chose to take summer classes and visit friends during other breaks, such that he hasn’t spent more than a week at a time with his family of origin since he was 18. This included the winter of ‘98, when there was an ice storm of sufficiently epic proportions to shut down the northern half of New York State; Willem tried to live in a 50-degree electricity-free apartment for several days before giving in and returning to his parents’ house, but only with Bob along for the trip, to dilute their presence. Willem was actively avoiding his mother even back before he really realized how abrasive angry hurtful passive-aggressive surface complicated she can be.

Though I’ve certainly helped with the avoidance efforts. I can’t even remember why, now – which is sad all by itself – but in the fall of 2003 I was so angry at her for something that, when I got a positive pregnancy test, I outright forbade Willem from telling his mother. “We can send her a birth announcement and then she’ll know,” I said. And I meant it, which is horrifying but necessary. Then I miscarried, conceived almost immediately afterward, and was placed on bedrest for 6 weeks. There aren’t many other reasons someone gets put on bedrest, so she did know I was pregnant before Jacob was born; but we didn’t call her when my water broke.

I’ve received a bit of feedback, here and there, about how there have been almost no good mother-in-law stories on this blog lately. This is true. I’m sorry for the lessened entertainment value which those stories brought, but I’m grateful for the heightened sense of sanity and benevolence that have resulted in my life because of it. There aren’t any tricks to share; she hasn’t suddenly had a turnaround and become a valuable source of love and comfort in our lives. We’ve just extended the avoidance to one or two visits per year and phone calls every two months or so. My emotional health as a trade-off for your entertainment; selfish, I know, but there you have it.

And in the meantime, I have my mom, and even Willem has my mom. And I tell my mom everything, whether she wants to hear it or not.

How about you?  What wouldn’t you ever tell your mother?  (Unless you think she reads this blog, in which case, don’t tell me, either.)