My father-in-law, my husband and my son all share the same birthday. What are the chances. Therefore every year my in-laws would make the trip from Pittsburgh to Denver to visit us for a long weekend. My mother-in-law never let me forget that she was celebrating HER husband’s birthday, HER son’s birthday and HER grandson’s birthday, whereas I was just celebrating the birthdays of my husband and son.

My mother-in-law expected me to organize, plan, and execute an entire weekend full of dinners at restaurants with the kids, dinners at restaurants without the kids (hire a sitter), excursions and of course celebrations that included made from scratch dinners, presents and a homemade individual cake for each person. It was also expected that she would be waited on and honored equally among the “birthday boys” because she was the matriarch.

One year after I had just gone back to work and was trying to manage getting three young children adjusted to childcare, I injured myself very badly in home accident, sustained a concussion and broke my foot. I was off from work for days, immobile and forbidden from putting any weight on my foot. This meant I couldn’t clean my house the way she liked, couldn’t wash dishes every second of the day, couldn’t make dinners, I couldn’t make cakes, I couldn’t go many places and couldn’t wait on her. It also meant I had to depend on my husband and older son to help with the caring and maintenance of the household. I had no choice.; I was in terrible pain and couldn’t even stand up to dress myself.

I called my mother-in-law a few days after the injury told her what happened. I asked for her patience and consideration during her visit and also asked that just this once, she help a little with the kids and pick up a little. I asked that if she needed anything she ask my husband or son to help her.

I think she thought I was joking about the injury, because she never asked me how I was feeling or even how it happened. When she arrived she was not happy about her son or grandson being asked to do ANYTHING to help me or care for our home. She told me I expected too much out of both of them and thought I was being selfish. She also insinuated that I was faking the injury because she asked me if I was really hurt, how did I manage to take a shower. She didn’t wash a single dish or even bring her own dishes to the sink. She was not happy about the fact that I bought the birthday cakes, instead of making them, bought a jarred marinara sauce instead of preparing it from scratch and that my husband helped me up and down stairs and in and out of the car. She also refused to ask either my son or my husband to do anything for her, and instead kept asking me to do things for her or retrieve things for her to see how I could react.

I sustained all of her criticism with grace and dignity. I did as much as I could within the bounds of my restrictions. It was hell. I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t be kind or compassionate or helpful, when I needed all those things the most. In the 15 years I’ve known her I’ve NEVER made a SINGLE request. And yet she couldn’t help me one time, when I couldn’t help myself.

Three months later she came back to Denver for my daughter and other son’s birthdays. Two days before her visit I received a text message from my father-in-law that his wife was having terrible foot pain and could I please show her extra love and attention while she visiting? I was enraged and simply deleted his message. She sat my couch for nearly three days, and moaned and complained. She threw a bad of coffee at me, yelled and me and told my architect (whom I hired and paid for) not to listen to me. Her pain vanished as I was taking her to Union Station to catch a train to the airport.