Praise didn’t come from my side of the family other than “She’s so pretty.”
Well, that motivated me towards doing better in school. Yessirreee.
Cause Prettiness is FOREVER and GETS YOU JOBS and PEOPLE GIVE YOU WADS OF MONEY WHEN YOU ARE CUTE and have a Nice ASS!!!11!!
:rolleyes: :dubious:
Yet, I was invisible at school. Yes, yes, I know. We all are.
Obviously, they were lying to me and no one told me I was really retarded or something.
So, when I met my husband, I naturally hoped his family will fill the gaping hole of need, want and acceptance ( not realizing it at this time) and my expectations were rather high. sinced lowered to below sea level.
What I got for year’s is, " You did (x) well, but I would have done it this way."
To make it more special, it is done in a German accent. I vould haf done it zis vay.
NO matter what I tried: sewing, crochet, cooking. Yanno. The domestic arts that my MIL excels at like nobody’s business. Trying to get a sewing lesson from a Master Seamstress was futile. She just finished my project every fucking time and I learned NOTHING. good times. good times.
It took me until the last few years to realize a) They were raised this way. b) they have no concept of praise c) Zhey are Ghermans which says it all. Zhey are always on time. Do it right the first time. Build it better. Manners Manners Manners…eat, eat, eat… ja ja ja
Now, after a minor implosion (thirty seconds about) with Mr. Ujest about " I vould haf done it zis vay." and how Nothink is gut enuf for his parents, while I was adding the frozen veggies to the crock potted soup awaiting the arrival of his ALWAYS ON TIME PARENTS. At the time they will be here and that is when the fun stops.
Well, they were late…LATE by twenty minutes or so. LATE? UNPOSSIBLE! Despite the fact that my FIL is in a wheelchair and my MIL does everything herself, the fact that they ever leave the house BLOWS MY FUCKING MIND because after a day of getting him ready and prep work and loading the car I’d fucking kill myself. And she’s been doing it for 16+ years now.
The veggies were in the cooker too long and were soggy. BECAUSE THEY WERE LATE.
My mother in law ( who is a very spineless and simple woman. Very old world mentality and very very codependant.) complimented me in the usual way. " That vas gut. But the wegatables were mushy. I vould haf done it zis way."
I gave a look to my husband (who smiled indulgently at me.) and then raised my hands in the air shouting, " BINGO BINGO BINGO! I WIN!"
His family thinks I’m nuts.
And the pleasure of being me, is that everyone so often my husband will follow the genetic predisoposition of ALWAYS BEING RIGHT and THE NEED TO TELL YOU THAT HOW YOU HAVE JUST DONE IT WRONG or ARE ABOUT TO DO IT IS INCORRECT but in a a nicer tone of “You’re Retarded” than his parents. and this leads to the follow exchange:
Mr. Ujest, " If you want to get the floor clean you have to use two buckets of water and rags and wash on your hands and knees."
Me. (Playing stupid.) " Two buckets of water?"
Mr. Ujest, " One to put the dirty rag into and rinse it and the other to wash the floor with. That’s how mom does it. put sparkly rainbows around that sentance along with a choir of angels. Mkay, thanks.
Me: “I don’t get it. How could that be better than *my * way?”
Mr. Ujest dutifully and excitedly finds two buckets, more rags and gets to work. By the time he looks up ( possibly giving key instruction on the exact manner to wash the floor.) I have slipped out the back door and have gone shopping.
True story.