Canada, being the Mother country of my husband, is what I like to call my Mother-In-Law country. Coincidentally, my actual mother-in-law also lives there. And while I’ve spent the last couple years living neither in my Mother country, nor my Mother-In-Law country, some relationships can never change.
My Mother country, and my mother, always feels like home, knows my secrets, keeps my favorites on hand, comforts me, makes me proud. And just as it is with my real mother, I love the Mother country, miss the Mother country, but feel uncertain as to whether we could ever peacefully co-exist within the same four walls now that we know each other so well.
My Mother-In-Law country, much like the stereotypes dictate, is something different than that. The Mother-In-Law country has different customs, traditions, and expectations of me. The Mother-In-Law country has foods I’d never tried before going there, but that I now crave when I’m away. Prairies instead of water, sisters-in-law instead of sissy, cats replacing dog, serviettes instead of napkins, tea towels instead of dish towels. The Mother-In-Law country is a land of meat and potatoes, hearty home-style cooking. My mother-in-law takes full advantage of that, and makes me chubby.
For the next two weeks my posts will be coming from the Wheat City, Manitoba, Canada…Dave’s home and native land.