Love Returned
I am a mother-in-law at 40 years old. No, I didn't have a baby at 14 years of age. I did, however, marry an older (ahem, much older) man who had a 9 year old son. A son who's birth mother was gone. A son who was perfectly happy to be a father-son duo with no desire for a nosy, know-it-all Betty Buttinsky. That's me by the way. Ol' Betty Buttinksy. Their life before me was full of guy time - bowling, darts, late movie nights and fried food. They had a routine that fit for school and work and sports. It was a sweet picture of a devoted father and adoring son. Like bread and jam. Then, in walks horseradish. Again, me. Horseradish and jam aren't the most scrumptious combination ever invented. Completely in love with the dad in the equation and thoroughly unaware of brewing discord. I disrupt the smooth operation with the best of intentions. No chore chart before? Oh, well let's get one laminated and on the fridge. No set bedtime? My word! Curfew begins now.