I have been going over Saturday night's dinner with family in my mind, and I think I have royally goofed - again.
We were talking about G's aunts (the remaining two) who live here in Swampland. I was asked about the oldest one who is taking all the deaths in the family so hard. We are all really worried about her mental state.
I made the remark that I call her frequently. Oops. I think I said the wrong thing. MIL had put B on a guilt trip about not coming to see her, and we don't either. The Alamo City is out of the way when we go to the SSB, and when we return on Monday a stop there would put us here in the teeth of rush hour(s).
G doesn't even call her. He called on Mother's Day, and the conversation lasted about five mnutes with neither one talking. So he doesn't call.
He has long known that he was not the precious child for either of his parents, but mom made it abundantly clear. Her dislike of her first born carried over to his family. The cousins were preferred to my kids. She has verbally attacked me on two occasions. I trust her like I trust a cornered rattlesnake.
I'm surprised she didn't take offense, and perhaps she did. I call Aunt W because we truly love each other and care about how the other is doing. This may sound really cold, but I am not going to lose any sleep over a possible snub to MIL. You get what you give.
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