Glenda and Greenie

Coming from a small family (read: only child), I am constantly amazed at the work that goes into being a member of a big family.  Herr Hubby has five siblings, two of them sisters.  I have always wanted a sister and was thrilled when I found out I was marrying into a family with two women already in it.  Hence, Glenda and Greenie.  Please tell me you get the reference, otherwise it will be lost on you.

My dealings with Greenie over the past almost eights years of marriage have oftentimes been downright torturous, not to mention painful.  This woman had never even met me before my husband and I married, but told me I was a slut because I got pregnant before she did.  Though I could have been nice and understood it might be a linguistical error, I knew it wasn't, she called me a slut.  I was determined, before moving here, to give her a chance.  After all, I had never actually met her in person and first impressions couldn't possibly be trusted.  Over the years it's always been a matter of her opinion trumping mine, her kids being gifted while mine have the misfortune of having an American for a mother and, therefore, being dumber, and so on and so on.  I would like to say I have tried to grow as a person in my dealings with her over the years and just notice she is an insecure person who needs love and patience.  Instead, I get an eyetwitch every time I am in the same room with her.  The woman would take the book 1984 as a self-help book on learning how to spy on her family rather than finding it a thrilling book with scary consequences. 
 
Glenda, on the other hand, I connected with instantly.  I met her right before we got married.  She is the oldest of Herr Hubby's clan and survived her little sister with a grace I can only be astounded at.  She recently moved closer to us and now my kids have the opportunity to grow up with cousins in close range.  Woo hoo!  No, really, no sarcasm meant.  It's a good thing they have one side of the family close by...just not Greenie's.

I cannot imagine everyone gets along with their in-laws (mine often give me tips to get rid of my "stomach" or buy me shirts in the size they wish I would be rather than am) but I seem to have issues with mine on a regular basis.  Granted, I don't speak out about it, per se, but they're there nonetheless.  Does this make me a bad person?  No, I rather like to think it makes me human.  What about you? Perfect in-law relations?  Yeah, didn't think so.  :)