My father-in-law took me to Boy Blue’s doctor appointment this past Friday because my husband would not get back until late that night from his training in another region for his job. I was going to take the tram and then the bus but he offered to drive me. You can imagine how happy I was. I was dreading it. Just thinking about lugging the three babies onto and off the tram and then the bus was enough to make me nervous. Besides, I wasn’t even sure where to catch the bus in the city.
Boy Blue is 9.4 kilograms (20.7 pounds). I didn’t catch the length. He is healthy and happy. He was smiling right after his shot which is the last until he is one year old. So, we have three months of no doctor visits. That, in and of itself, is cause for celebration.
All of the offices of our doctors in France are in the home of the doctor. The waiting room is small which is fine because I have never had to wait long. We are generally the only family in the waiting room. Rarely, is another person there and it is usually a salesperson. The Pediatrician is very calm and not hurried in the least. Refreashing after years of American doctors who are always hurrying through the appointment to get to the next. Everything is clean and there are lots of toys in the waiting room and in the office for children to play. There is a desk for the doctor to sit while she talks to us about any problems or asks some questions while she types in baby’s weight and length into the computer and prints out any prescriptions. Our babies Pediatrician prints the prescriptions out and does not write them by hand. I love this because I can read it no matter what. I still have trouble reading French handwritting if it is sloppy. Doctors are known the world over for their chicken scratch handwritting.
We left and I thought we were heading home meaning our apartment. Nope. My father-in-law had another plan in mind. He took me to their house for dinner so that my in-laws could spend some extra time with the kids. Fine? It would have been if he had asked me first. He did not. I was a little unhappy about this. However, I let it slide and didn’t say anything because he had just taken me to the appointment saving me from having to ride the tram and bus with all three babies.
He still should have asked me and I was already a little upset with him before we even got to the appointment because he had washed the babies carseat covers. The carseats were in his car because he had gotten the girls on Wednesday and rather than taking out the carseats and putting them back in we decided he should just keep them until Friday.
How sweet of him to wash the carseats for me? Not really. I had washed them only a month ago and swept them throughly before he came to get the girls. The carseats were not dirty. Yet, he went on and on about how he washed them and that they were now clean. He then finished the day off by saying the most rude thing he has to date.
Just before he was leaving, he started sniffing around the kitchen and there was a bag of garbage that I had left on the floor to go out. He actually told me that it smelled and I needed to take it out! The reason I hadn’t taken it out was because the babies could kill themselves in the five minutes it takes to put the garbage out. I have to wait until they are asleep to take it out. Besides, if it bothered him so much he could take it out! I didn’t say that of course. I just said, yes, I know but it is hard with the babies. I am afraid they will get hurt if I take it out and they are not asleep. He didn’t hear one word I said. All he was thinking was how smelly and dirty we are and how it is not good for the children. Believe me, I know him by now.
My apartment was spotless except for that one bag of garbage (that I couldn’t smell) sitting there ready to go out as soon as I could take it (meaning that babies were asleep). It is not the first time he has made comments to me. My husbands parents even told me when we first came to live with them in France (until we found our own place) that they eat veggies in their house. They told me that. “We eat vegetables in our house!” Well, last time I checked so did other people.
While living there, his father showed me how to use a sweeper and to separate clothes even after I told him I knew how. I have been cleaning house and doing laundry since at least fourteen or before. My mother already taught me those things twenty years ago and I have lived out on my own for I don’t know how many years. He even told me to clean the bottom of the toilet. He is just crazy. Doesn’t he hear himself? He should realize that a woman of thirty some years knows how to do the laundry, use a sweeper and clean a damn toilet without him telling her like she is some idiot or kid.
They are weird sometimes. Not that all parents can’t be. I just think they go to far and always want to make like they know better and everyone else doesn’t. It bothers me. I am still pissed that he told me my kitchen smelled even if he really thought it did. I never once said how nasty it is to eat at their house with all the dog hair flying all over the kitchen because the dog house is right outside by the kitchen door. Most people would never put a dog house right outside their kitchen for that very reason. In my opinion dog hair all over the kitchen floor and even on the table and counters sometimes is much nastier.
I hate feeling obligated to listen to all that dribble about how to clean this or that and how this or that is not clean. I can’t say anything because of all the help they give and the fact that I am a daughter-in-law and must respect them even when they push me with their little digs to make themselves feel better. Maybe, I should tell them the same as I do my own parents. I am sure I wouldn’t hear their silly comments anymore.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my in-laws and appreciate all that they do for us. They just go to far sometimes. Really, they do.
Whew, I feel better. My husband told me I need to tell his father that he is wrong when he says something like that. I don’t know. I think my husband should tell him he is out of line. I had to tell my mother when she was out of line with my husband. I think it is better that way because I am not his daughter. I am his daughter-in-law and it is not the same. I know in some families it can be, but not in most families even if they say it is.