Button those lips

What is it about in-laws that makes us curl up into our shells? Do they really expect that we're the same people we were 15 or 45 years ago? What is so scary about showing our true colors to the parents of our mates? Or do we fabricate the fear to make excuses for why we can't see our in-laws for who they are today?

A friend is visiting her in-laws this spring break week. And from all her recent Tweets I would say it's like she's signing a week of her life away to make sure her husband gets his annual time with his parents. It's all very wifey and dutiful of her. I know it's not easy.

She feels she's evolved way past the insecure young woman she was when she married her husband. And she wishes she was able to just be herself around the in-laws. Maybe stand up for her opposing views? But for some reason she has to take the martyr position and sacrifice her individuality to "make peace" for the one week with the in-laws they spend with them each year.

I get it. After 16 years I still do it too. But why? I know over the years I've thrown in the towel multiple times and caused great tension. At the time I was done with sacrificing myself. But I slowly reverted to drinking heavily, slamming doors in my head, and reading countless books behind the safety of my closed bedroom door...buttoning my lip so to speak.

It's even harder when kids are in the picture. Throw in opposing or lack-of religious beliefs and you've got your tinder for a raging bonfire.

I guess we all have this special tiptoe dance we do around the "issues" in order to not be the awful daughter- or son- in-law. No one wants that label. At least I don't. It just sucks that we never really allow our in-laws to know us as individuals. We're always the ___in-law that corrupted their child. Or at least that how it feels on this end.

And who knows, maybe they're different too. Maybe they're just as afraid as we are to show their true, very evolved colors. Somehow, I doubt that.

Maybe I'll try not to be that type of in-law. Maybe I'll accept my daughter's husband for exactly who he is. Maybe I'll love him because of all his tattoos, gun-toting rants, vegan-ways, agnostic views, melodramatic stances, and fundamentalist values. Or maybe not.

To my friend enduring her annual wifely-duty, I say cheers, drink up. It's only a week. You're not alone. And you'll soon be home doing other wifely and motherly duties.