Two Stubborn Women

Wifey gives up on something she feels strongly about after about a century or so. Her mother, Rachel, is like a pit bull, except the pit bull eventually gives up its grip. Last night I watched a battle between them that reminded me of one of those epic duels to the death you see on Nat Geo, or Animal Planet.

It was a fine weekend. Friday, Mirta, my sister of another mister, came over around 4, and we drove up to JMH to fetch Dr. Barry. He had comped a ride earlier from his colleague Patti, and that way his boy Josh could drive to the Canes game and use his parking pass.

The drive to the stadium was like navigating India during monsoon season. It poured the whole ride, and Waze took us through parts of Miami we had never seen -- much of it in the earliest phases of gentrification.  As we arrived, we found Mike and his crew, and parked in a not completely flooded spot. Josh had brought some Costco chicken and ribs, which all hungrily gobbled up. I titrated myself perfectly with Absolut, and we had a lovely, though primitive, tailgate. And -- the Canes won -- beating 20th ranked Virginia, a team I will always now call the Grapes, since UVA is grape in Spanish...

We got home late, and I spent yesterday blissfully napping and watching great college games. And then we left to go visit my suegra.

She's turning 95 in December, and the last few visits, which I missed, Wifey reported she refused to get out of bed due to arthritis pain. The staff makes her move around to get meals, but it was after 8 pm, and Rachel was steadfastly in bed, watching TV. She ordered us to sit there with her, and talk.

Wifey wasn't having it. She kept insisting Rachel MUST get up more, to prevent bed sores. Plus, it was a rather lovely breezy night, and we wanted to take the old lady to the gazebo, where it is pleasant to have a visit.

The two women eyed each other. No -- not getting up! Yes you ARE. This went on for awhile, and then Wifey cavalierly asked me to help lift Rachel up. Nope. I last did that last Thanksgiving, and tore something in my shoulder trying to move around the large mass of goo that is my suegra. We're coming up on a full year, and my shoulder is about 90% back to normal. I'm a kind, giving guy, but wasn't going to sacrifice another year of pain to help Wifey wrangle her mother.

Had I been betting, my money would have been on Rachel. She's older, and has been through much in her life. Wifey's tough, but my mother in law is world class, hundred year old crocodile type of tough. Wifey is a relative puppy.

So I went outside to the gazebo, awaiting the outcome of this battle of wills. And then ...Wifey came out, wheeling my suegra, who was smiling.

Wifey summoned Rachel's favorite aide, a beautiful and very large and strong Caribbean woman, who knew the way. She offered my mother in law, toddler-like, some biscuits if she would get out of bed. And it worked!

Rachel was beaming. Her senility had her forget the earlier obdurance. As she wheeled up, she said "Oy -- it's so NICE out here..."  And so we had our visit, where I told her 10 times the state of her grandkids and my law practice.

We left around 9, and headed out to a local chicken place for a late dinner. They had the Gator game on, and I watched them lose, which just increased my happy mood. It turned out to be a fine Saturday night.

And I learned not to doubt my wife's resolve. She was right, of course -- her mother does need to leave her bed as much as possible. And she overcame the ancient mule, and got 'er done, as Larry the Cable guy says...