My Father In Law

My FIL told me recently that I am not a very good daughter.  I agreed with him wholeheartedly, I mean sheesh my father could have told him that year’s ago and I’m pretty sure my mum used to tell me the same thing every single day.

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Why am I not a very good daughter (this time) you wonder?  Well I totally get it.  I am a bloody disgrace.  I had the audacity to go down to the bakery and buy him some piping hot pide.  I mean this bread is straight out of the oven and it is so soft that it will melt in your mouth and put centimetres onto your ass.  Anyway he didn’t want pide.  Why did I buy him pide?  What a bloody awful DIL I am indeed.

I also do not feed him enough although when I do feed him he declares to all and sundry that my food is not good.  I also do not make Turkish quality cay and I do not bathe him.  I’m just going to make a very public statement here – I will never, ever bathe him!  Never ever!  I bathe myself.  That is it.  I did pull his pants up the other day when he was shuffling down the street and they fell down around his knees – but that is where I draw the line.

My FIL is a stubborn old man.  He is nice enough but only as long as he gets what he wants.  God forbid if shit doesn’t go his way then everyone suffers.  I suspect that The Turk will morph into him when he gets older which worries me a lot.  I don’t want to have to bathe The Turk either.

My FIL likes to sit on the street and yell at people as they go past, in fact in my recent post about Google maps there is a photo of him no doubt yelling at the Google car.  He likes to sit at my front door and yell at me when I go past.  He can often be seen sidling up to a neighbour and complaining about this and that.  “I need a haircut”.  “Nobody feeds me”.   “My family hates me”.  These are a few of his most favoured rants but there are many others that he throws around at all of us and no one is safe from his rages either.

Dede on the street Google maps

He doesn’t, however, yell at people who steal The Turk’s Batman undies off the line.  Something a little off kilter there I think.

Why does a lot of his ranting fall on me you wonder?  Well I am the only one at home.  Everyone else works.  Which shits him too.  Why do the women have to work?  Don’t get me started on that!  Last weekend I went to a picnic in Limonlu and God forbid I did not get home until after 7.30pm.  My FIL informed The Turk that he cannot control me.  The Turk’s reply?  “I wouldn’t even try!”

When I think of my own excellent father I could never imagine him raising his voice or calling me (or The Turk) names but then I guess that this is the way that my FIL has always lived his life.  If one is never told that the behaviour is unwarranted or unacceptable in today’s society then one will never change their ways I guess.

I could take it personally.  I could raise my voice or blow my stack at The Turk but I wonder if I would be wasting my energy.  I have realised that I honestly don’t really care what he thinks of me.  I cannot change him but as long as I am true to myself then all is well.  I continue to be respectful.  I was taught that as a child – respect your elders.  I ignore his blabbing and his sulking.  I ignore the fact that my food sucks balls and my cay is weak and tasteless.  Between you and me I totally understand now why my MIL was constantly screaming at him.  I used to think it was cute.  I used to think that she was a feisty old lady and when he would laugh at her it was like how I imagine a couple married for 50+ years would act.  Now I realise that she actually wanted to kill him.  All the time.

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*Deep breaths*

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13 thoughts on “My Father In Law

  1. For me it’s the other way around. Substitute FiL for MiL and the situation is exactly the same. I feel for you and andmire your control.

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    • I spend my day laughing mostly. If I walk past him he will yell “Cay!” “Yemek” “Soguk!” I usually have the same reply with a big ass smile on my dial “Tamam Dede. Evet Dede.”

      But in my head I am thinking of ways to torture him *rubs hands*

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  2. Ha! I’ve lived with my Turk for nearly a year now and of course it’s a scandal since we’re not married or event engaged yet. HIs father passed away when he was young and his mother is the sweetest, but I wonder what I’m getting myself into with some of his other relatives… Currently my Turkish isn’t enough for me to understand the criticisms when they come (which he does not bother to translate) and I think he shelters me completely from the ones who are not yabanci-friendly (there are many!) but I hear his grandparents complain alllll the time about the quantity of the yemek his mom serves (“there’s no meat in my plate of kuru fasulye! she’s trying to starve me!”), the strength of the cay, and never being the correct temperature either. I’m also told by his friends that I make bad cay (too weak, too strong, not hot enough) and only have one or two Turkish dishes that are “approved” to serve. More for me! Or I will go out for Korean instead! 😉

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  3. Mine’s a total nightmare – stubborn, rude, shouts at the TV screen (though not people in the street), tells everyone his kids don’t do enough for him, and don’t go there with the gay thing. If fact, I think they’re the same person!

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  4. MIL for me too. My first was OK and gave me a back handed compliment about my cooking, saying it was OK, considering I made it, but the other never really took to me as I wouldn’t stand for her petty nonsense or double standards. I do have some fond, if unusual, memories of her though, as some of my posts have shown.

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  5. His he Greek? Well you could always tell him to go to the restaurant, the food is better there apparently. There are no old folks home in your neck of the woods? In Canada people park the elderly there. I think that this is an elderly thing, with age people become less tolerant it will happen to us, not to worry.

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  6. In the US, if FIL asked DIL to bathe him, and he didn’t have Alzheimer’s, he’d find himself in jail. The differences in cultures never cease to amaze me. The man has 2 arms, 2 legs and the ability to go to the fridge and get his own food, and yet he wants to be bathed and fed as if he were a special needs child.

    It’s men like that who make me want to go Aaaarrrruuuggghhh!!! 🙂

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