My relationship with my in-laws is complicated. Brent is an only child and his parents have been very involved in everything we have done especially since we had Christopher. I am the youngest of a fairly good sized brood and my parents are not so interested in what I do. When Brent's parents would come to visit I would warn the people around me that I was going to be on edge for awhile. And I would begin my mantra of "they mean well, they mean well". They love Brent with a complete devotion. They feel the same way about Christopher.
That being said the family dynamic is also an interesting one. They are all perfectionists. All very driven. And all not afraid to share their opinions, whether you want them to or not. Brent's mother in particular has a way about her. She doesn't so much ask you how you are doing as tell you how you should be doing. They also pick at each other. Being from a large boisterous family I am used to a certain amount of picking, but it's blood sport with them. It was a bit much for me when Brent and I were first married. Twenty-two years later it's still a challenge at times.
But Jack and I got along very early. When Brent and I were first married Brent left for boot camp and I moved into the back half of Jack and Ann's house. On Sundays I opened at work after closing Saturday nights. I would drag my tired butt home around 2 in the afternoon pick up Black Jack (one of the two cats) and retreat into my half of the house. I would sit in Brent's big butcher block chair read and pet the cat. Around 4 Jack would knock on the door and ask if I was ready. Then he would put the brownies in the oven and call for pizza. How could you not fall in love with your father-in-law when he offered up the food of the Gods every Sunday?
I believe there were two reasons for this offering. One was it made me happy. Jack and Ann both knew from personal experience how easy it is for the bond between a parent and child to break over differences big and small and I think Jack figured out early on that I was the tie to his son. The other is that it drove Ann crazy. You think I am kidding? Jack called me Little Feet for the first year or so Brent and I were married. Now, I did have little feet, before Christopher I had size 6 1/2 feet, all the way up to 7 now. But it drove Ann nuts every time he did it. She thought it was derogatory and sexist. I didn't care. He could call me that white trash trailer park girl that was ruining Brent's future (Brent's grandmother's cute nickname for me) as long as he kept making turtle brownies and calling for pizza. But it drove Ann nuts. We would be watching a movie and he would say something like Little Feet, how do you like this movie? And Ann would snap, Jackson. If she trotted out the make believe full name he was in trouble. And he never called me Little Feet unless Ann was around.
Jack was the mute to Ann's personality. He softened her edges. Mastenbrook men seem to be drawn to challenging women. Brent is my anchor when I get too flighty. He is my safe place to land when the world is too much. Jack was the fluff to Ann's stone. But he had his bite as well. And God forbid if you got into the laser beams of both Jack and Ann at the same time, you would be laid to waste.
He was also full of shit. Told stories to amuse himself and we still don't know what was true and what wasn't. I pick and choose. If it amuses me enough then I have decided it's true. If it just seems like something he made up to mess with us then I go with that. He was also extremely hard on Brent growing up. Both Jack and Ann demanded so much out of him that I think sometimes they forgot he was a kid. It became something of a joke in High School. We would be talking about a party and ask Brent if he remembered something about it...but he wasn't there because he was grounded. Huge long groundings for little infractions. It was a little crazy.
So that gives you a little about the background. It gives you a little taste of the family before I start the next part.
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