Sunday, 01 May 2011

• Meeting the Mother

  

  A few years back, 6 months into a new relationship, my boyfriend at the time (Sam) invited me to attend his little brother's Bar Mitzvah. Which was to take place in his hometown of Toronto. Which was where his mother lived. With whom we would be staying.

  Ok. Don't panic. Meeting the mother, not such a big deal, ha, I mean you've met mothers before and they've liked you. Right?

  Sure - mothers. But not Jewish mothers, and none like Sam's mother. From the stories I had heard, the lady was severe. Not severe in the sense that she never laughed (though when she did, I later witnessed, it was in an exceedingly measured way). I mean severe in the sense that she was a very strong woman, who entertained very high standards for her sons, their behavior and direction in life - as well as the girls they bring home.

  Luckily I recalled that Sam's father had also been a goy, so I didn't have to worry so much about not being Jewish... except that she had later divorced Sam's dad and re-married a much more responsible Jewish man. So maybe I shouldn't jump the gun.

  Ok, so I was nervous. I arrived in Toronto bearing a bottle of wine and homemade earrings for her, only to learn that her ears weren't pierced. Off to a rollicking start!

  The first thing that I noticed about Judith (not to be confused with Judy, which I could not imagine she would ever tolerate being called) was that she was very refined, with incredible poise and diction. Oh, and also, she never asked anything of her sons twice. Coincidence?

  After dinner Judith and I were talking while I helped her with the dishes. She revealed that she did yoga, and I told her that I, too, did yoga, and wasn't yoga just grand? Naturally Judith invited me to attend the next class with her, which was the next morning at 8am.

  Back in his hometown for the weekend, Sam wanted to reunite with his high school friends, and reunite we did. I ended up puking in the cab on the way back at 3am (not my proudest moment). And then suddenly it was seven-thirty and Sam's mother was knocking on the door for me to join her.

  Oh, hilarity-in-retrospect! We walked to yoga on the beautiful June morning, my head pounding while I tried to feign cheer and sobriety. On the way she complained to me about her new parents-in-law, who only brought presents for their biological grandson and never considered her two older sons, which she thought was very inconsiderate. It took all of my mental capacity just to frown and nod appreciatively at the appropriate times.

  Yoga was a struggle, and I definitely fell out of my fair share of balance poses. Perhaps out of kindness, and perhaps because it made her balance look superior, Judith pretended not to notice.

  The rest of the weekend went well, and I visited a couple more times throughout the subsequent year.  One time I left all the books I needed for an upcoming exam at her house and she FedEx'ed them to me at great personal expense, so I wrote a thank-you note which prompted her to deliver such a high volume of praise for my handwriting that my voice mail cut her off mid-sentence. (She called back to finish.)

  Then I broke up with Sam. For a while there we tried to be friends, and I cringed a little when he told me that when he revealed our breakup to his mother, she had exclaimed: "But why would you EVER break up with such a nice girl?"

  Man. Mothers! Have you ever been (un)pleasantly surprised by an SO's mother? What impact did it have on your relationship?
  

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