I've seen both sides, and the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship is one of the most difficult human relationships.  I remember the first time I met my future mother-in-law Lorna, she asked me a very deep, personal question.  I was surprised by her question and yet I realized she was trying to get an idea of what kind of woman her son was about to marry.  Even after we married I still felt awkward, like an outsider.  I didn't know where the dishes were kept or how the towels were folded.  I watched jealously as she and her daughter Carol, worked effortlessly as they prepared holiday meals.  Very few words needed to be spoken.  It was as if they could read each others minds.

Another dilemma I had was what to call this new woman in my life.  Of course to third parties she was and still is John's mother, but I struggled with my personal name for her.  To call her by her given name, Lorna seemed disrespectful, Mrs Van Komen was too impersonal, and yet to call her Mother, Mom, or Mama felt disrespectful to my own mother.  So when I called her on the phone, or rare occasions when we were face to face, I just started talking thereby avoiding the necessity to call her anything.  Because of the geographical distance between us, this worked for many years.

As years passed and I began to fall more deeply in love with my husband, I began to have more tender and grateful feelings for the woman who gave him life.  I started to appreciate the wonderful gift she had given me.  I knew as a young woman her life wasn't easy, and the actual delivery of John into the world was a nightmare, but she did it.  Because of her sacrifice I have a loving husband, five wonderful children and eleven beautiful grandchildren.  If she did nothing else she deserves the honor of being called Mother.

More time passed and since my children had grown and many of them left the nest I had less responsibility at home.  One day while thinking about Mother Van Komen's birthday, I had a brilliant idea.  I called her up and told her I would come spend a weekend with her for her birthday.  I had no agenda.  We would do whatever we felt like doing.  The fact is we didn't really do much.  We watched old movies and mostly we talked.  I remember talking about the great male vocalists, and when I said I didn't care much for Frank Sinatra, but liked Mel Torme and Mario Lanza much better, I found out we were kindred spirits.  I only hope that birthday weekend was as important to her as it was for me.

I love you Mother, you have given me more than you could possibly imagine.  Happy 80th birthday!