It’s Not Your Kid
I’m pregnant. Last night, my husband was talking to his mom and mentioned the baby because he was so excited about an ultrasound picture I showed him. In the picture, the baby is clearly flipping the bird, which is also funny. He tells her about this and her comment is along the lines of, “She’s gonna be a trouble maker like you already.” Now, we don’t know the sex yet, but she’s insisting I’m having a girl. It’s a squish with limbs, but she’s set on a girl. Whatever.
So he gets into talking about how when the baby’s older he wants them to learn cars, because that’s what he does and how my gramps raised my mom. So it’s tradition. Guys. My mother-in-law lost her darn mind. “I’M not having MY granddaughter be a little butch! She will wear pink and bows and dresses! None of that greasy mechanic stuff. She’s gonna be GIRLY!” Uh no. HECK no. That’s where I stepped in and said, “Ok. First, it’s my kid, and my mom didn’t raise me girly so I’m not forcing that on my kid if it’s a girl. Second, my grandfather raised my mom to know how to take care of her car so she didn’t need anyone else to do it. That’s what your son is gonna do for our kid, girl or boy.”
She apparently wasn’t hearing any of this because she goes, “Listen here, miss preggo, my grandbaby…” before my husband cut her off. Here’s where you are going to love him. He says to her, “Ma. Shut the heck up for a minute. Is it your kid?” My mother-in-law says, “No but…” “No. That’s right. It’s not. It’s our kid. Now shut up. We’re going to raise our kid how we want to. Not how you want to.” I love him. Story credit: Reddit / CheshireSuicide