Family Boundaries Crossed: The MIL Who Wanted to Be ‘Mommy’

My MIL Taught My Kids to Call Her ‘Mommy’ While I Was Away

If someone else told your children to address them as Mom, how would you respond? That must be crazy. It is absurd. I never imagined that anyone, much less my own mother-in-law, would have the courage to do that. I, however, made sure she would never attempt to usurp my position.

My name is Jennifer, and I’ve felt like I’ve been at odds with my mother-in-law, Elaine, ever since I revealed that I was pregnant. You see, she’d made it her mission to make my transition into parenthood as difficult as possible. Her comment, “You’re not so special, I could get pregnant too if I wanted,” lingered in my head during every family get-together, clouding happy memories.

When our twins arrived, our already tense relationship became much more tense. Elaine was adamant about not being referred to as “grandma,” and I was more than willing to oblige her. My children began referring to her by a variety of names, frequently using her first name.

I could not get rid of the impression that she considered my kids as rivals for her son’s affection rather than as her grandchildren. This strange tension culminated in an episode that felt like a direct challenge to my job as a mother, and it led to a situation I never would have imagined.

My husband and I were forced to leave our twins with Elaine one day due to an unforeseen situation. Naturally, I was hesitant, but I told myself it would only be for a few hours. What might go wrong, if anything?

When we got back, our little boy, full of childlike innocence and happiness, jumped into our arms and said, “Look what our MOMMY bought us!” Bewildered, I stooped down to his level and whispered, “But baby, I AM your mommy.”

“No, it’s not you, it’s her.” His finger was pointing at Elaine, who was grinning triumphantly and smugly instead of at me. My heart fell. It was an obvious and malevolent implication. She had planted doubts about their mother in my kids’ minds throughout our time apart.

Retorting sharply, I bit back my tongue so as to avoid making a scene in front of my kids. But the experience left me with a bad taste in my mouth and a raging need for revenge. Earlier than I thought, Elaine’s birthday was the following week, so here was my chance.

I came up with a strategy that would be hard for her to turn down because I was determined to make an impression. It was dangerous, maybe a bit trivial, but I didn’t care anymore. It was a straightforward but meaningful idea—a present that would send a message she couldn’t misunderstand. I carefully planned throughout the course of the following few days to make sure that every last aspect for the party was ideal.

When Elaine’s birthday finally arrived, there was a lot of excitement in the air, at least for me. While the guests gathered, congratulating each other and exchanging gifts, I patiently awaited the appropriate opportunity to deliver my carefully selected gift. My spouse gave me a comforting grip of the hand, a tacit request to keep the peace, knowing I was nervous but not my plan.

At last, the time arrived. As Elaine got ready to open presents, the room fell silent, and everyone’s attention was fixed on me. I moved forward, carrying a gorgeously wrapped parcel, while a waiter followed me with a larger box. I felt the pressure of the room’s expectations pressing down on me, but I remained unwavering in my commitment. As I gave her the present, we locked gazes and remained silent.

When she opened the present, her initial interest gave way to confusion and finally to realization when she realized what kind of gift it was. A range of emotions were displayed in the room; some attendees spoke to one another in an attempt to understand the meaning behind it all, while others observed in silent, bewildered shock.

Huge bundle of baby-blue t-shirts with the words ‘Best GRANDMA Ever!’ written across their chests in large red letters emerged from the box I had given Elaine. My mother-in-law retreated, unsure of how to respond. “You have another gift, Gran,” I smiled and prodded her.

I turned to the box the employee had set on the table and undid the top without waiting for her to open it. With grace, the entire thing unfurled, revealing a large, exquisite cake within. The words were in bold: “For our best GRANDMA.”

I knew my message had reached its target when Elaine attempted to gather herself and gave me a forced thank you. More than just a piece of merchandise, the gift represented a declaration and my takeback of my motherhood—a position that Elaine had so blatantly tried to subvert.

The ensuing tension was evident and served as a clear reminder of our unspoken competition. However, I experienced a sense of empowerment and conviction in my acts that I had not experienced before—for the first time since becoming a mother. The remainder of the evening flew by in a whirl, the repercussions of our quiet struggle leaving a mark on everyone who saw it.

After the birthday fiasco subsided, I couldn’t resist mentally reliving the entire evening. Elaine had an unmatched expression on her face as she was inundated with clothes and extravagant items. Even though it was nice to witness Elaine’s anguish, I nevertheless harbored a persistent sensation of worry. Was this really the way to fix what was wrong with us?

The family dynamic was, to put it mildly, difficult in the weeks that followed. Despite my husband’s best efforts to mediate as a middleman, the harm had already been done. Elaine appeared to withdraw into her own world, making less but still noticeable attempts to sabotage my bond with my twins. I questioned whether what I had done had done more than widen the chasm and increase the difficulty of finding a peaceful future together.

I had a revelation one afternoon while I was watching my twins play in the garden, their laughing soothing my jangled nerves. This conflict with Elaine was about more than simply small-time arguments and the need for retribution; it was also about modeling behavior for my kids. What was the message that all of this was teaching them? Was it best to settle that dispute with spite and retaliation?

I extended an olive branch to Elaine, determined to break the cycle. Months of anxiety had made the talk unpleasant, but it was important. I conveyed my wish to put our disagreements behind us in order to protect the twins. Elaine was, surprisingly, open to the idea, if cautiously. Despite being embarrassing, it appeared that the birthday prank had caused her to consider her behavior and how it affected the dynamics within the family.

As part of our reconciliation, we decided to establish some guidelines. I would make sure that Elaine had a meaningful relationship with her grandkids, free from the titles and labels that had created so much conflict, in exchange for her respecting my boundaries as a mother. Although it wasn’t an ideal answer, it was a start.

A few months later, at a family get-together, our newfound understanding was put to the test for the first time. Now that they knew exactly who their mother was, the twins said a happy “Hi, Granny!” to Elaine. Her reply, a sincere grin and a heartfelt embrace, was a long cry from the bitter words of the past. As I saw them together, a ray of hope appeared for our blended family.

The only things I preserved from my revenge scheme were the pictures of Elaine’s pouting birthday face, a memento of a time when pride got in the way of our decisions. Now, they are hidden away in an album, a reminder of how far we’ve come as a family, bound together by love, honor, and the sporadic confirmation that maybe being ‘the finest GRANDMA ever’ isn’t such a bad thing after all.