I’ve cut my mother-in-law out of Christmas for 17 years with no regrets – she’s only ever bought me one humiliating gift
SIPPING a glass of chilled fizz this Christmas morning, I will not only feel full of festive cheer, but also a little bit smug.
That’s because this is the 17th time I’ve successfully managed to cut my mother-in-law, Rene, out of our celebrations.
While other women will be run ragged, pandering and panicking, I’ll be blissfully relaxed at home, with my husband Brian, 52, our two sons, my parents and my sister Anneliese, 53.
I’ll do nothing more strenuous than peel some vegetables, munch chocolate and unwrap presents, free of festive tension.
This is the exact opposite of what the day would be like if Rene was on the scene.
And it’s the reason why, during 18 years of marriage, my family has spent Christmas Day with her only once.
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That was eight years ago and I am still suffering from a mild form of “seasonal PTSD”.
The barbed remarks started early in the day. “Do you often eat chocolate for breakfast?” she scoffed.
The slurs didn’t end until we went to bed, when she commented: “That Christmas pudding wasn’t the best”.
At the end of the day, close to tears, I swore I would never put myself through the ordeal again.
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And now, at 51, I certainly won’t be swayed. I know I’m not alone, either.
Mumsnet is filled with posts from women my age who are dreading having to deal with the mother-in-law this Christmas.
Unsurprisingly, to me, a US study found that both men and women have more conflict with the mother-in-law than with their own mums.
I don’t feel an ounce of guilt that my mother-in-law doesn’t get to see her grandchildren on the big day.
She’ll see them at some point over the festive period, when we’ll go and stay for a couple of days.
During that time, I’ll insist on taking long walks to get rid of those Christmas excesses — when in fact it’s to dodge seeing her.
And she will spend Christmas itself with my husband’s brother, his lovely wife Chrissy and their daughters — so it isn’t as though she’ll be alone.
I remember the very first Christmas in 1997 after Brian and I started dating.
We didn’t spend it together because we had only been seeing each other for six months.
But I was horrified when he rang me on Christmas Day to say Rene had prepared roast beef and not a traditional turkey.
It’s the one time of year that I’m a stickler for convention and this seemed very wrong.
Christmas is all about family and I wish I could see my grandsons
Rene
I immediately knew that I didn’t want to spend a single Christmas with his family.
They don’t really do presents either — most years, they would all give each other Lottery scratch cards — and while I’m not materialistic, I spend hours trawling the shops for the perfect gift for my loved ones.
My mother-in-law has only ever bought me one present — a pot of anti-wrinkle cream.
This year, I’m bracing myself for hair dye, because she recently asked why I have more grey hairs than Chrissy, her other daughter-in-law, despite being ten years younger.
So you can understand why I feel a twinge of terror at the thought of spending Christmas with Rene at the helm.
I’ve been with Brian, who works in marketing, for 26 years and festivities aside, my mother-in-law and I are yet to see eye-to-eye on anything.
“Highlights” of her behaviour include asking if she could wear black to our wedding and then telling me she didn’t gain a daughter, but lost a son.
She has a photo album titled My Family and while my husband and sons, who are 18 and 14, feature, I’m nowhere to be seen.
She has even carefully selected wedding photos where I’m missing.
For me, Christmas is a special time, not an occasion I want ruined. And Rene has a unique ability to make me feel the size of a gnat.
On Christmas morning, we open stockings at my parents’ house in Dorset and have a lovely smoked salmon breakfast, and lots of chocolate, before slowly opening presents.
Late afternoon, we’ll have turkey and all the trimmings — including my mother’s bread sauce, best in the world — at my sister’s house. This is followed by quizzes and party games.
Brian is lovely about me wanting to be at my parents’. He gets on brilliantly with his in-laws.
But eight years ago, Rene, who is a widow, was set to be alone at Christmas. Brian’s brother was away and even I acknowledged that we should go to her house, six hours from ours in London.
I even prepared the meal, but the level of interference was off the scale, with petty remarks about timings and how rapidly the water was boiling for the Brussels.
Her lips pursed at the taste of the chicken — “too dry” — and stayed that way up until she had eaten her last scrap of Christmas pudding with brandy butter.
She made snide comments about what I’d gifted my boys, then aged ten and six. Their noisiness brought nothing but sighs.
I felt like I couldn’t do anything right, most of my efforts were followed by a “Chrissy wouldn’t do it like that”.
I told Brian never again.
It doesn’t cause rows — he loves my family.
Despite everything, my boys love Granny.
She’s wonderful with them and I make sure they see plenty of her.
But I worry about karma.
I tried hard to do things in a way Mel would appreciate, but it’s never enough
Rene
If the boys marry, they could assume their partners get to choose where to spend Christmas, as that’s their normal. I suspect it will be with their wives’ mums and it will serve me right.
But in the meantime, I’ll enjoy my mother-in-law-free Christmas Day. And I wish all the luck in the world to the women who aren’t as lucky as I am.
Rene, 81, says: “Christmas is all about family and I wish I could see my grandsons. The one Christmas I did spend with them was magical.
“Mel doesn’t think I thought it was special, but it was.
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“I tried hard to do things in a way Mel would appreciate, but it’s never enough.
“And the only reason I bought her anti-wrinkle cream is because I saw it in her bathroom, so thought she’d like it.”