My mother-in-law has always had a gift for ruining milestones. Somehow, every time something meaningful is about to happen, she’s there — ready with a smile, a diversion, or an “oops” that mysteriously steals the moment.
It’s practically family lore by now. The woman is a saboteur of joy dressed in pearls and good intentions.
Our wedding? She arrived in a floor-length cream gown so pale the photographer had to adjust exposure to differentiate her from my dress. When we confronted her, she offered her signature breathy laugh and said, “It’s not white — it’s antique ivory. You know, like me!”
That was the first time I realized that Patricia was not accidentally oblivious — she was strategically centered.
Daniel and I planned a small, intimate dinner with family. Elegant cards tucked into napkins. A soft clink of glasses. The joy of watching the news unfold naturally.
Hours before the dinner, Patricia posted a photo of a sonogram on Facebook with a caption: “Can’t keep a secret when I’m this excited! Baby Smith coming soon!”
I was tagged. So was Daniel. So was half the town.
She later cooed, “I just couldn’t wait! I thought I was helping!”