That's alota meatballs!

When his mom, called me to come into the kitchen for dinner, I noticed she had a severe rash on her face and arms. Later I found out from Mark that she had psoriasis. It was extremely painful for her and she had struggled with it since Mark was young. She was semi-pleasant as she served the spaghetti into a large blue mixing bowl with flowers on it. She filled it to the top and then began to ladle meatballs onto that with dippers and dippers full of sauce. The dinner smelled divine. I was really hungry. As she spooned the food into the bowl, she spoke something that I never, ever in my life heard spoken to another human being. She said “nine meatballs enough for you Mark?” HUH!??!! I thought I must have mis-heard her. No, I didn’t!! She said “nine meatballs enough for you?” and she counted them out, one at a time until there were nine on top of the giant bowl of spaghetti and sauce. She placed the bowl in front of Mark. “I only made 3 pounds of pasta today so I hope that’s enough.” she commented. I looked across the table and there were 3 of us; Mark, his mom and me! Whoa! I had all I could do to convince her that a meatball and a cup of spaghetti was enough for me. Then, without hesitating one smidge, she walked over to the counter and handed EACH person their own stick of butter and a loaf of Italian bread; three people, three loaves of bread!! I’m not making this stuff up. Who could! I watched while Mark and his mom broke off pieces of bread and then dipped their pieces one by one into a vat of sauce big enough to feed my family for a month! I honestly love sauce and bread so I was intrigued and mortified at the same time.

Dinner was a bit awkward. I had already made up my mind that I didn’t really like her or the house. After dinner, she went into the living room and sat down while Mark picked up the plates and did the dishes. She immediately went back to the shouting and yelling that occurred when we first came in the house. I couldn’t believe how many things she shouted at Mark to do and he just did them. It was almost comical. (I never did figure out the magic shout to get Mark to do housework.) Mark’s mom, to be honest, through our years of engagement and marriage, rubbed me the wrong way. She seemed to be able to say exactly the right words so that Mark had no choice but to go over there and do what she wanted. Years into our life together, God opened my eyes to something I was doing and it affected Mark’s relationship with his mother permanently. You see, Mark kinda-sorta liked his mom when I met him. Over the years, I found little things to criticize and I made sure he saw her flaws and her mistakes. Slowly but surely I “helped” Mark “see” his mom the way she “really was” and eventually, he only tolerated her because he had to. When she died 23 years ago, she was only 54 and Mark has barely mentioned her since. I have asked him multiple times to forgive me for turning his heart away from his mother. I realize that my husband became the man that he was because of the woman she was. Through the hard work that it took for Mark to be her son, he learned the value of a relationship and he would not have been as fabulous a husband and father, if not for her. To be fair, she was a wonderful grandmother to her grandchildren and always treated me well despite my ‘stand-offish’ manner toward her. By “pointing out” the faults of someone else, be careful that you aren’t just honing your own flaws in the process.