Dear mom and husband,
You are both acting like children. Mom, I will no longer visit you unless my brother-in-law and sister are there to be a buffer. We all get along wonderfully then; however, when it's just me and my husband, you turn into a judgmental, weepy mess. I knew that visiting you right now was probably a mistake, but you seemed to need some support, so I came anyway. I wish I hadn't, but you profess to be glad I did, even though your actions bely your words.
Husband, here's a thought: not everything is a slight to your character or a threat to your authority with our son. If we're in someone else's house, their rules apply unless they're threatening the safety of our children or the bounds of good sense. As such, if my mom says it's okay for our son to have a lot of toys on the floor with the understanding that he'll be responsible for picking them up later, there is absolutely no reason for you to threaten to take some away unless he cleans up now. And it's rude to walk off in a huff because someone disagrees with you. Further, if you feel compelled to ask me if maybe you overreacted and perhaps you should apologize, you already have your answer and you know it.
Similarly, mom, there is no reason for you to burst into tears when my husband attempts to discipline our son. I don't agree with him in this case, however, you often cry when my husband disciplines our son, especially when our son goes into screaming mode. It may not have occurred to you, but having a sympathetic, sobbing audience makes things worse, not better. And my husband isn't some monster who abuses his child. Yes, he sometimes has a too-short fuse. He's working on it, but it makes it all the more difficult to do when you're crying. Kids are smart and he's milking your sympathy for all it's worth. So knock it off. Please.
Oh, yeah, and did I mention that your hand-wringing is driving me nuts? Who the hell takes a very stressful weekend, then decides to have a cookout with 15 family members? Furthermore, who the hell has a cookout with linen napkins, fine china and all the "proper" utensils, including a damn dessert fork and wine goblets at every setting?! Honestly! We're eating fucking hot dogs and burgers, for God's sake. And you flipping out because everything wasn't ready, necessitating my intervention to get everything done while managing a clingy baby and kid didn't help. Luckily things worked out. However, I will not be repeating this.
Now, this has been a difficult weekend for everyone. I, for one, could use a stiff drink and some alone time to work out. I've been surrounded, sometimes covered, by children all weekend to keep them out of the fray. Oh, and there's the not-so-little matter of my sister who has had a much more difficult weekend than we could imagine. You know, forced contractions to clean a uterus of a miscarriage will do that to you, I'm sure. The only saving grace is that you blubbered to me, mom, instead of my sister. At least she was spared the effort of comforting you. Now, if you could both go to your respective corners and find something else to do while I call her to make sure she and her husband are well, I'd really, really appreciate it. Thanks.
Cheers (where is my fucking drink when I need it?),
Overly