Amid the roses and the breakfasts my family is showering me with (this crew of late risers has made breakfast for me twice so far) are stories of their grandmothers. My husband’s mom is still with us, though mine is not. The boys never knew their Grandmother Phyllis except through stories and the values I maintain, though Nana is a part of their lives.
My mother in law is an amazing human being. She lost her first husband young, left a widow to raise six young kids. Later she reconnected with an old sweetheart in a similar situation, and together, they forged a family of nine kids and 47 years of marriage.
Those nine kids were all over the map for talents, weaknesses, fears and troubles, and through it all, my mother in law was a tower of strength. If she didn’t make every wrestling match, she was stretched pretty thin. She had tears to dry and costumes to make, and I’m pretty sure she had eyes in the back of her head.
She was and remains one of the most organized people on the planet. When I plan my world takeover, I’m putting MIL in charge of Logistics. If she alphabetized my spice rack while staying with us after Olderson was born, she also stayed awake for hours with a fussy newborn and probably saved my sanity, if not my life.
She remembers milestones and birthdays, and drops chatty letters in the mail. She is a presence in our lives, even living a thousand miles away.
So thank you, my dear mother in law, for being you.