sleep in the family bed

Two nights ago I woke around midnight to a rapidly beating heart that no amount of deep breathing would steady. I lay there tense as a set mousetrap ready to spring, vainly attempting to calm myself before finally admitting defeat and getting up to read the bible and complete the hardest Sudoku puzzle ever. Eventually I closed my eyes and slept.

I suppose it could have been indigestion from that amazing chicken vindaloo I consumed at high speed earlier in the evening that woke me. However I think it more likely that stress wrenched me from my dreams because, come to think of it, I haven't been sleeping well for the last few nights.

I'm not someone who normally lies awake for hours trying to nod off. Sheep in the backyard or not, I rarely resort to counting how many times they jump in and out of our yard. Nope, my head hits the pillow and I'm away to the land of sleep and fantastic fantasy, and not much will wake me.

Yet here I've been, night after night lying in bed unable to fall asleep. And, come to think of it, there have been significant stressors to weather in the last few days: Frank's birthday, for which I procrastinated so long over the choice of present I ended up with nothing; my new job; adjustment to shift work (I swear it's not natural to run around on cement floors until 10 o'clock at night); and... the visit of the mother-in-law.

Bingo! I think we're onto something here.

I don't go for all those stereotypical relational patterns, so I always imagined that when I obtained a mother-in-law I would just be my usual cheerful self, chattering away with disarming amiability and all would be well. We would get along nicely and in the process blow all those in-law fables out of the water.

It is with much sadness that I report it IS NOT SO!

I was naive - those stereotypes exist for good reason. They are not fables. Mother-in-laws are not nice. Or at least mine isn't. I do not have a good relationship with her and I confess I do not want one. She is a hard, humourless person who spent four days dishing out insult after insult. She invaded my space, passed subtle judgement on just about everything Frank and I do and scrubbed my stove.

OK. The stove was a good thing. It needed scrubbing.

Without consulting me, the cake-baking-queen, she went out and bought Frank a birthday cake and insisted that it was for him and not to be shared with anybody. At one point I became so angry I heard a distinct buzzing noise in my ears as the scene before me moved in and out of focus. It's really no wonder I wasn't sleeping!

Where does this all leave me now, with the mother-in-law gone and sleep covering me like a blanket once more?

Sad. I feel overwhelmingly sad. For myself, as I lay my pleasant mother-in-law dreams to rest. Sad for my mother-in-law, who has chosen hardness of heart over deep relationship with those she loves. Sad for my husband, who loves his mother and his wife, and is torn between his own dreams and the reality of in-law relations.

I'm also thankful. Thankful for the strength to hold my tongue. For increased awareness whereby we strive to understand ourselves and others and so work to build more meaningful relationships with one another. For my husband, who sees where he came from and longs to be different. I'm thankful for the relationship Frank and I share, a relationship that is ever developing into something more deep and caring.

Yes, it was a tough few days, but all is not lost. While we're apart I'll work up the courage to keep holding out olive branches of peace to my mother-in-law. Hopefully we'll learn to understand each other better. Over time, maybe we can move closer to that pleasant relationship I once dreamed of. Maybe.