In-Laws

My middle-aged Italian in-laws are awesome. I have to assume most people who read that sentence go back and read it again to make sure they read right. It’s true, they rock. I have much to be thankful for regarding my in-laws. They are open-minded and intelligent and loving and compassionate and fun and love to shower love, affection, and anything they can give on their family. They have also been the catalyst for growth and metamorphosis in my perspective and my marriage. Allow me to explain.

First, a bit of backstory: I remember sitting across the table from my soon-to-be-mother-in-law (Angela) when she started crying for seemingly no reason, although I couldn’t shake the feeling it had to do with me. I knew then that this was going to be an interesting ride, but I vowed to be a good daughter-in-law. In-laws have a bad enough rep as it is; throw in cultural differences and communication breakdowns and you are in for a real treat. But we are fortunate to be the only married couple in both of our families, all of whom are local, so the natural thing to do is to spend holidays together as a large group. The food is always good, that’s for sure, and it gave us time to get to know one another and celebrate our differences.

The most obvious difference I determined from the beginning was money. My parents are savers, his are spenders. Interestingly, he and I are the opposite. It was never a huge problem, but made a few gift-giving occasions awkward. When I had my first child, their first grandson, the proverbial ante was forever upped. I started to notice my controlling nature and insecurity rearing its ugly head. My mother valued discipline (always in love) and raised me to be very independent, and Angela employed positive reinforcement and the attachment-style parenting with her sons. I had the pleasure of wading through two polar opposite parenting influences from the part-time caregivers of my firstborn…awesome. It’s truly wonderful, because my children are more well-rounded and malleable for it.

 

When I say controlling, I mean I required notes about poops and pees and bottles and reflux and naps and food. I had to be the first to see his first steps. That’s right moms; this maniac actually told them that if they saw steps before me to pretend they didn’t, and let me see them on my own. (They must have, because to this day I believe I got his official first steps on camera). I even told my husband that we had to be the ones to purchase certain “big” gifts first. I wanted to be the one to provide the good stuff; I wanted to be the most important person in this kid’s life (besides his papa). And still, they rolled with it, while I taught them just how to hold, burp, wipe, or feed him as thought they had never experienced a child before, the grandparents all took it in graceful stride and never let me see their hurt feelings or eye rolls.

Now that I have made myself look like a rock star parent and daughter, I’ll recount the growth–inducing experience: After I had my second child, a daughter, we had a real life changer: we birthed a restaurant. Yes, Sapori rocked our collective world perhaps more than the children did. All day, every day, day and night, every thought, every conversation, and every ounce of effort that wasn’t directed toward my children was for Sapori. At the time I worked with them Angela and I managed the staff and the front-of the house, and the men managed the back of the house. Maia was born in November, and in January we were in the restaurant interviewing and hiring servers.

It was all worth it, because when we opened we were successful, it has been a blessing to our family, and all of the hard work continues to pay off. We turned a profit in the first year, which is rare, especially in this economy.

Working with family is hard. Real astute observation, you say? I had heard it would be hard, and people would look at me with eyes that said “Oh, I’m so sorry” when I told them I worked with family. But I thought I was immune. It’s only hard for families that don’t get along…we love each other, so we’ll be fine. I loved working with my husband. To get to see him each day and be a part of his life’s work was invigorating and valuable. I have natural leadership tendencies (I know, surprise!), so I enjoyed being the boss. The problem was, so did Angela. We had very different management styles, and I thought that since I had an education and prior management experience that CLEARLY my ideas about how things should happen were the right ones, and I was inflexible. It pushed a big ole wedge between us. Our relationship suffered, and that poison eventually leaked into the workspace. Staff started to catch on, and they tried to manipulate it. Family caught on, and they tried to avoid the budding issue.

Finally something happened to upset me, and I snapped. I left the restaurant and didn’t talk to my in-laws for more than a week. During that time I was sure to let the kids talk to them. I will never be that mom. I knew we would get over it, but needed time and space to wrap my head around where we were and how we got there. I prayed over it, talked to a minister at my church, and finally did what helps me organize and understand my thoughts best, wrote it down. I wrote a letter to my in-laws explaining how I felt. We got together as a family and discussed it. I knew I had made a childish choice leaving the way I did. If my in-laws had responsibility, my behavior trumped the original offense (for which I still believe I had a right to be upset).  But, I did the right thing and met them halfway. I admitted a portion of the fault so that we could overcome. But I did not go back to work at Sapori, and things have been worlds better ever since.

The growth came in two ways. First, my husband, God love him, had to make this his problem as well, since these were his parents, and while I was busy ignoring them, he was still seeing them at work each day.  He had to look seriously at the entire situation, from both points of view, and chose a direction. He had to decide his own perspective on the matter because I made it very clear that sitting on the fence was not an option. I realized during that time, that since Dario had been raised in a codependent environment, he had never been exposed to a circumstance under which he might consider the accuracy of his parents’ judgment. That is to say, as a 30 year old man, he still thought his parents were always right. I literally watched him discover that his parents are not superpowers who are devoid of error.  

From this discovery I realized how delicate my position in our marriage and our family is. I understood that, since I am a natural leader, and he is accustomed to decisions being made for him, this has implications for my role in our family. God allowed me to see that in order for him to grow confident in his ability to lead our family, in faith as well as provision; I needed to make myself smaller and smaller. And the result has been astonishing. He has since become a leading decision maker for Sapori Chester (my in-laws are about to open a second location in Williamsburg) and my biggest supporter in this seminary journey.

Secondly, my perspective changed as I was growing spiritually in my relationship with Christ. The whole time I was ignoring my in-laws, I was praying for God to change my heart, to allow forgiveness, and for wisdom in how to address this hurt. The whole time, his still, small voice whispered, “This is not the right way to do this” and “It’s your stand, you need to make this right.” He showed me that I have as much fault as anyone.  Had this indiscretion never occurred between me and my in-laws, we may not have made these beautiful strides in our marriage and in our faith walk.

Every once and a while when my mind wanders to that place where I rehash the events of the fallout, and the memory recalls a bitter taste in my mouth, I think on the lovely things about my in-laws. I have so much respect for the beautiful man who left his family, friends, and the comfort of his culture and his country in order to provide a better life for his family. I adore the fact that my in-laws came to America and attended classes to learn English and welcomed with open arms this crazy, controlling girl into their family and treated me like their own. I am forever humbled and eternally grateful that they, being born catholic and not understanding the Baptist doctrine, attended and cried tears of joy for their son at his (second) baptism. They are flexible. They roll with it. They are courageous and loving and I love them.