by Heather Warner

Created on: November 25, 2008   Last Updated: November 29, 2008

Meddling. The word itself instantly brings feelings of negativity, and rightfully so. The definitions of meddle at www.dictionary.com are: 1)To involve oneself in a matter without right or invitation; interfere officiously and unwontedly. 2)To intrude into other people's affairs or business; interfere. 3)To handle something idly or ignorantly; tamper.None of these definitions can be interpreted to mean anything but negativity. Then pair that word with "parents". Suddenly, you have an auspicious tragedy waiting in the balance. Inevitably, emotions become out of control, stress soars through the roof, and no one is succeeding in achieving happiness. Arguments become commonplace, spouses are ridiculed, and parents are loathed.

This was the situation with myself and my first husband. Chris and I met when I was eighteen. I met his parents, and I believed they liked me. They may have, but that did not change the fact that his mother never thought I was good enough for him. She even stated to him in front of me, that he could do so much better. The relationship between her and I was extremely fragile. I felt I had to walk on eggshells and strive to please her. This alone was hard for me, because I am very much my own person. I am free-spirited, and outgoing. I also speak my mind. So, having to change into someone I was not, just to keep from arguing with my husband was a real task.

Chris' mother meddled in every aspect of our lives, from the marriage to the divorce, she was directly involved. Chris' mother decided when we should get married, where we lived, and who cared for our children. I would arrive home from work to find her in our apartment doing the laundry, or cooking dinner, not because she wanted to help, but because she felt I wasn't doing t right. She would lecture me about how to load the washer, or why powder detergent was not as good as liquid. She lectured me on why I shouldn't buy whole chicken, or cook box meals for her son.

Then came our first son, I had no say in the naming of him, Chris and his mother were adamant that our first born son would be named after him. Chris, incidentally, is named after his mother, Christina. This was not particularly an issue for me, I knew Chris' desire for a namesake. Chris and I had agreed that our son would have a nickname though, mainly to reduced confusion later. We decided that our son would be called C.J., short for Chris Jr. Chris' mother was appalled at this decision. Many arguments took place over this nickname.

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