The In-Laws

by Patti


I've known my in-laws for almost 23 years.

The first time I met them, I found myself sitting across from my future mother-in-law, asking for seconds. Yes, I had just met the mother of my new love, and I was already revealing the inner glutton. But those mashed potatoes? Were the best I'd ever tasted.

My future mother-in-law didn't speak a word of English, but, as luck would have it, this "white" girl spoke perfect(ish) Spanish, and I saw her eyes widen when she realized that this one was different. This girl made her macho Argentinean son (secretly) swoon, and made the others at the table laugh, and, even though she hadn't cracked open a bible in, like, ever, she was still a decent person that somehow made that wary Spanish mother like her against her very will.

My future father-in-law was a boisterous, wine-swigging, "porteño " who was quick with a joke and a kiss on the cheek. He slapped M on the back and asked him where he'd found such "linda piva", and then asked me why I was dating such an ugly boy.

And that's how it began.

And now, nearly 23 years later, I can safely say I have the best in-laws on the planet. Some say it may be because I only see them once or twice a year. They live in Argentina, and visiting them isn't the easiest thing in the world. But I know it's not that. I know it's because they have never interfered in my relationship with their son. In fact, when their son has been a pain in the ass, they have taken my side. I know it's because when they come to visit, they turn my house into a festival of wine and homemade empanadas and folded laundry and entertained kid and late nights around the dinner table, all while still respecting the fact that it's "my" house. I know it's because they appreciate me for who I am; they get my sense of humor, they love how I challenge their son, they know when to close in and when to back off. I also know it's because, despite the distance, they fiercely love my daughter, and have done everything they can to stay present in her life, even if an ocean separates them from her.

Just one day after M came home from his trip to Argentina, my in-laws arrived at my doorstep. They came to surprise S for her birthday. M and I knew they were coming, because they would never dare come "without calling", but they wanted to surprise S, and so they did. The doorbell rang and S, in her usual nosy way, ran to see who it could be. She peered out the window and saw an "old lady with a wig". That old lady with a wig? Was my mother-in-law in disguise. When S opened the door, my mother - her other grandmother - standing behind her, she found that "old lady in a wig" donning oversized shades and carrying a handwritten sign translated from Google that said, "My face look like my grandaughter." S eyed that "old lady in a wig" with wonder, somehow knowing it was her "gue-gue" from Argentina, but not understanding how it was at all possible that it could be. But it was, and once S accepted this, she went to hug her, laughing and happy for the surprise.

Our house, a kind of tiny two-bedroom, is swelling at the seams now. But it is the kind of swell that is caused by too much conversation, noise and clinking glasses. I hear so many horror stories about evil mother-in-laws, or meddling, overbearing father-in-laws, or cold, uncaring grandparents, and then I look back on these 23 years, and I honestly can't believe my luck.