The Dark Side

The thing about my in-laws is that they look like Normal People. Nice People. Fun People. People you might even enjoy spending time with...

...And occasionally, they are fun to be with, but they have these alter egos – this dark side, if you will – that I fear is quickly becoming the dominant side of their personalities (that is, if it wasn't all along).

On the surface, they are a fun-loving couple. My father-in-law is a jolly guy – he likes his rum and Coke, and he knows how to make people laugh with his wild opinions and teasing nature. And my mother-in-law, she comes across as the picture of effortless perfection with her easy smile and candid conversation. But their alter-egos are radically different – when the dark side takes over, he becomes this angry, grumpy old man and she turns into an anal, irrational psycho.

Maybe it’s just part of getting older, but even the most trivial things can bring out the dark side. It’s the usual stuff, for the most part – crowds, traffic, waiting in line, slow service – it’s the things that bother all of us, but most people are able to shake it off and accept that it’s just part of life.

In theory, by the time you reach your sixties you should have long since accepted the little inconveniences that life throws your way, but in reality, age seems to make you less tolerant of these everyday nuisances, and in the case of the M-I-L, more entitled to announcing your grievances in a public forum. You see, while my father-in-law merely grumbles about his frustration with the world, the M-I-L gets aggressive. She shouts at strangers; she bellows at innocent bystanders. If someone has wronged her – directly or indirectly, purposefully or accidentally – she makes sure that they regret it.

I know this firsthand, of course, for it wasn’t so long ago that Roger and I were the source of her irritation. Moving out of the main house solved this problem (for the most part), but it is for this reason that I’m extremely sympathetic to those on the receiving end of her tirades – like the poor girl who had the audacity to bump into the

M-I-L’s chair at a crowded mall coffee shop (and immediately squeak “Sorry!”).

"Jesus Christ!” the M-I-L snarls, whirling around with her signature look. I can actually see the young woman shrinking into her chair as she experiences the full strength of the look. “Does no one see that I’m sitting here?” the M-I-L continues, now talking to us, but loudly of course. “I mean, for God’s sake!” With that she looks over her shoulder once more, to make sure the girl is still sorry (and she most certainly is).

And then there is the man at the mall’s parking garage redirecting traffic from one entrance to another. He stands next to a “Lot full” sign and is gesturing that cars should continue to the next entrance. True, we have just seen five or six cars pull out of that very lot, but is that any reason to roll down the window and scream “ASSHOLE! The lot can’t be full – we’ve just seen a hundred cars come out!”

Geesh.

Now I'll admit that there is something to be said for expressing your feelings, for not being a doormat, for speaking up when someone wrongs you. Maybe I’m the backwards one – the southern belle, always biting my tongue in an effort to be polite – but I have to believe that there is a difference between expressing your feelings and randomly shouting at strangers. The former is healthy, the latter is just downright hostile…

And more importantly, it doesn’t solve anything!

But that doesn’t stop her from screaming at the crowd of twenty-somethings who are socializing in front of us at the rugby match. We spent last Saturday at Roger’s alma mater, where we claimed a space in the “Old Boys” section of the field. The younger alumni were using the area to mix and mingle with old friends – watching the rugby wasn’t exactly the priority of the day. But instead of acknowledging that maybe we had chosen the wrong place to sit, the M-I-L spent the afternoon shouting “I can’t SEE!” and “Get out of the WAY!” and “MOOOOOVE!”

She certainly wasn’t the only adult using such tactics, but to me, her belligerence is always particularly shocking. I suspect it’s because to look at her – if you didn’t know any better – she is the epitome of class and glamour…but then the dark side strikes, and she becomes this crazy lady ready to claw your eyes out in a trailer park cat fight.

Wow. I’m so going to hell for this. And to say all of this on Mother’s Day! I’m horrible…

Because she’s not all bad. I mean, it’s fun to paint her as this schizophrenic glamazon, but she’s not. Well, she is, but she’s more than that...

She can be funny and silly. She can be generous. She’s strong. And God knows she's tough – the woman has had two knees, a hip and a shoulder replaced; she had half her tongue and part of her esophagus cut out in order to beat throat cancer. Physically, I think she could face pretty much anything. And she’s truly passionate about her friends and family. I believe she’d do anything for her loved ones…and somewhere along the way, this crazy woman decided to love me.

And I love her too. Not just because she is Roger's mum, but because I've never known someone so completely comfortable in their own skin. And as much as her total disregard for common courtesy infuriates me, there is something admirable in her constant confidence. Maybe I could even learn a thing or two from her - at least in that department. Don't get me wrong, the woman is completely nuts, but I do love her…

So that being said, I’m entitled to poke a little fun…right?

Still, we should probably keep this just between us.