Thoughtful Cruelty

Pam: I’m having a moral dilemma regarding my mother-in-law. I can’t decide if I’m being kind or being cruel.

Ann: Only you would be struggling between two such extremes. Most people know pretty instinctively if they’re doing the right thing or not.

Pam: Not everything’s so cut and dried. I actually ran this one past my book group last night and they had strong opinions on both sides.

Ann: Okay. I’m sure you’d guess which side I’d come down on in any debate. But give it to me anyway.

Pam: No, I really can’t begin to guess what you’d say on this one. Here’s the deal. You know my mother-in-law is elderly, totally blind, and speaks no English at all. Needless to say, it fairly limits what we can do together.

Ann: I remember meeting her at Ross’ graduation party. We couldn’t really talk or communicate but she seemed very sweet.

Pam: She is! I love her to death but sometimes I don’t know what to do with her when she visits. She’s real sensitive about not wanting to be a burden. She hates the thought of adding to anyone’s workload. In fact, she really wants to help.

Ann: So let her help.

Pam: I do. Usually on the first day or so she cooks up a storm. But needless to say it requires constant assistance with finding things in the unfamiliar kitchen, and reading and translating the labels on cans and packages to her. Someone has to be at her side continuously and that’s tough to do.

Ann: Yeah, it’d be hard to justify staying home from work all day just to help your mother-in-law cook dinner. Couldn’t the kids pitch in?

Pam: They do and they’re great when they’re around. But they have busy lives too. I really shouldn’t complain. She just wants to relieve me of work. But in reality she just causes more.

Ann: I hate to put it this way, but it’s kind of like having a two year old following you around the house wanting to “help” you clean.

Pam: That’s it exactly! I appreciate her intentions but I can do everything a lot faster just doing it myself. But I did find something she can help with that doesn’t require much of me. That’s where my dilemma comes in.

Ann: Tell me you didn't send her up a ladder cleaning the second story exterior windows?

Pam: Very funny! No, she’s actually pretty good at folding laundry. She sits on the couch and can carefully feel her way. First she figures out if it’s a shirt or shorts or whatever. Then she feels for seams to turn it right side out. And then feels how big it is to tell whose pile it goes into. She’s remarkable really.

Ann: Great. So you found something she can do to help without requiring a lot of your time. How’s that a dilemma?

Pam: Well, we only have so much laundry. Bret and I dry clean most of our stuff and the kids wash their own work uniforms. So I gave her a load of towels that had just finished up in the dryer and she was so happy to help.

Ann: So far so good…

Pam: So thirty minutes later when she very excitedly asked for the next load, I did what I’m not sure is kind or cruel….I took the clean towels she had just finished folding, tumbled them in the dryer until they were warm, and then gave them back to her to fold again.

Ann: Are you serious? Couldn’t she tell?

Pam: Could you tell one towel from another folding them blindfolded?

Ann: I guess not…but you’re right. I can see where that’s sort of a mean thing to do, but if it made her happy to help, maybe not.

Pam: See what I mean?

Ann: She must have thought you guys use an awful lot of towels.

Pam: She mentioned that and I told her it was the kids and their friends going swimming everyday. So, truth, am I a terrible person?

Ann: Based on this? Probably not… Now based on other stuff, that’s a different question!

Readers - We'd love to know what you think about this. Please send us your comments. -Pam and Ann

Cooking Up Some Date Bait

Pam: My mom was the worst cook since the invention of fire. Let me tell ya, when she went into the kitchen to cook, the onions started to cry.

Ann: But you can cook. How’d that happen?

Pam: I had to learn, or starve to death! But don’t be fooled, I have been known to blacken a few dinners in my time.

Ann: Hey, what you do is called burning. To “blacken” takes a professional.

Pam: Very funny, but I come by it honestly. Nothing my mom made even looked like it was supposed to. Her meat was gray, her gelatin molds were just thick liquid in the bottom of the bowl, and her mashed potatoes were actually stringy.

Ann: I’ve heard of lumpy, but stringy?


Pam: Don’t ask! And worst of all she put saccharin in everything. Remember before they had powdered saccharin? They had those tiny little saccharin tablets. She would crush ‘em up to use anywhere a recipe called for sugar. You’d be eating and suddenly bite into a chunk of one of those things and the salivary glands under your tongue would go into spasms from the tart sweetness. It was the worst.

Ann: I was lucky. My sister and I actually used my mom’s great cooking as date bait. I guess it’s true that the way to a guy’s heart really is through his stomach.

Pam: You’re just lucky they didn’t fall in love with your mother instead of you.

Ann: Yeah, but it would have been nice to go out to dinner once in a while.

Pam: My mom’s cooking was helpful in my relationships too. Whenever I wanted to end it with a guy, all I had to do was bring him home for dinner. I never saw him again.

Ann: Do ya think our meals are “bait-worthy”? Do your kids like it when you cook?

Pam: They like it when I cook but not necessarily what I cook. Ross is my carnivore. If I make just spinach casserole or a fruit salad, he’ll say he didn’t climb to the top of the food chain to eat vegetables.

Ann: You should hand him a club and tell him not to come back with anything less than a saber tooth tiger. And when he does, make him grill it up himself.

Pam: Don’t laugh. My kids are actually both pretty good cooks when they’re in the mood. But most of the time they’re not in the mood.

Ann: What do they say “Not tonight mom, I’ve got a headache.”?

Pam: That line never works for anyone.

The kids were home for spring break and Kate was complaining that there was absolutely nothing to eat in the house. I knew it wasn’t true because I’d made a trip to the grocery store to stock up just before they arrived. I told her to check the pantry. She opened the door and stood in front of it and actually told me, “There’s nothing to eat. All we have is ingredients!”

Ann: Did you remind her that if you mix them together, they miraculously become a meal?

Pam: Sure. But I'm supposed to be the miracle worker. How about your kids? They ever cook?

Ann: Well Troy gives it a try once in a while. But his idea of cooking is--if at first you don’t succeed, order pizza.

Pam: Yeah, if you turn to Ross’ favorite recipe in the family cook book, all you’ll find is directions to the neighborhood Mexican restaurant.

Ann: Pizza and burritos. When the boys are in charge of dinner it sounds like our stomachs are in jeopardy.

Pam: Alex, I’ll take Alka Seltzer for $200…