Pitting a certain relative with dingbat social skills

Dear Mom, I get that you love my wife and you’re thrilled to be having twin grandkids. Guess what… I and everyone else feel exactly the same way, because she rocks, and we’re all thrilled. I think it’s great that we’re all on the same bandwagon here.

But do you always have to register your joy and pleasure in a situation by announcing how this changes your personal pecking order? Is it necessary to say that your other daughter “doesn’t matter anymore?” Do you really have to brag that you get along better with my wife than me? Can we just all be happy without making sure we all know whose stock is going up or down? Because NOBODY CARES.

Also, do not EVER try this shit with my kids. The day you say one of them is your favorite is the day you lose your privilege of seeing them without having your mouth duct taped shut.

Regards, your son.

Good on you for recognizing how FUBAR that talk is. The thing is that when dealing with parents, it’s hard to set limits you can stick with. I imagine you want to say what you’ve typed her to your mom, but a slightly less confrontational approach might be more productive. Either this, or the less confrontational approach, however, would be better than saying nothing, and just letting this go on.

Sometimes with parents you just have to smile and nod, and try to minimize the damage. But don’t start with that action plan. Good luck with this, I know it won’t come easy, if at all, though.
Second - kids do have pretty good radars. Especially for people whom they don’t have to live with day in and day out. My grandmother did this sort of nonsense. By the time my sister and I were each about 10 we’d figured out a lot about her because of this, and took most of what she was saying with a whole heaping spoonful of salt.

The really important thing is that you and your wife remain constant and even with them. If you do that, your mom’s oddities will be highlighted for what they are.

This makes me glad I am an only child, married to an only child, and we only have one kid.

:eek: Whoa. :cool:


Cosmic Relief, I definitely sympathize with your irritation at your mother’s gratuitous blatant favoritism, but I gotta say that this Pitting looked a lot more intriguing while I had the impression that you, your wife, and your sister were all female. :smiley:

My grandmother did that. You, your wife, your sister and your children have my sympathies.

Ah… the joy of having a mom.

They do get better with age, sometimes… You have my sympathies.

My dad is unapologetically racially bigotted. Once when visiting home with my young son, my dad went into some racial tirade about something on the television. I demanded that he refrain from using such language in front of my son. This led to a heated exchange that ended with me packing up and getting ready to leave before my mom convinced me to stay one more night because it was already too late to head back to Dallas. Of course my dad went to his bedroom immediately. The next morning the threat of not seeing his grandson broke his pigheadedness and now, more than 10 years later, he has not crossed that line again.

I regularly tell each one of my kids individually who the favorite is. It’s never the one I’m speaking to.

I only do that when they ask “Am I your favorite, Mom?” That’s a guarantee of “I really like your sister a lot better.”

I prefer to respond “Of course. You’re my favorite daugher/son/oldest/youngest/blond/green eyed/whatever makes them unique child”.

Mom has a very, very clear favorite. The Bros (and now, the Nephew) all follow this other policy. I’m my bros’ Favorite Sister, the kid is my Favorite Nephew (also known as my Favorite Godson), his baby sister my Favorite Niece… :smiley:

I’m the favorite, I found out last year. My dad’s favorite, anyway. My brother did alright in school and today is an accomplished businessman who makes on the order of half a million (GB) pounds a year… and has two daughters who are perfect.

I did very well in school and horribly in college and am still in the process of enrolling in grad school at the age of 27, six years after I finished college and said “I’m going to grad school”. I make about thirty grand a year, and have no kids.

Why the hell am I the favorite? He’s the successful one! Dad, you’re an idiot.

A friend had a grandmother like that, only much worse. Nasty, nasty lady from everything I’ve heard.

Every Christmas she’d suddenly turn generous and give each of her grandkids a silver dollar. Except my friend. She’d only get a 50 cent piece, because she wasn’t Catholic.

I had an ex who got the same deal. Her mother was Jewish and her father was Catholic, and when all the other kids got Christmas presents from Catholic grandpa Roberto (or whatever) she got nothing.

Plus, she got stiffed by the Jewish grandparents too. So her parents moved with her to Boca Raton, where everyone is Italian and Jewish.

Did he say you’re the favorite, or that you’re his Special one?

Hm. I’m glad that I’m the youngest in my entire extended family.

Some people just like the smallest puppy.

I was my most of my grandparents’ favorite and they didn’t even try to hide it. In some ways it’s really no wonder my brother and I barely speak to each other as adults.

I hope your mom learns to play by your rules, Cosmic Relief.

People like that wonder why they end up in a convalescent hospital with no visitors…

I’m not pitting so much that people have favorites… it would of course be unnatural if they didn’t. Some people are more likeable than others. Nor so much actually saying who is your favorite… although it’s pretty impolite, again, it’s just expressing what we know some people already think anyway. (Feel free to continue pitting that, though, because it’s rude).

This specific pit was about how my mother expresses how happy she is about a certain event by casually exclaiming how it changes the way she feels about other people. We’re having a new baby, ergo my sister doesn’t matter anymore. I know she doesn’t even MEAN that. She just thinks it’s cute way to express how incredibly happy she is. I love her but she just doesn’t put an ounce of thought into anything she says, ever.

My mom did that when she had knee surgery. One of my brothers lives 2 blocks from her house, yet I drove her to the hospital, drove her home, visited her every night, and came over and cooked every other night when she got home.

She said thank you and all, but what I remember the most is how she said how much help my brother had been.