01 Mar 2013 - 01:50:27 pm
I love my wife, its her mother I can’t stand. I know you must be saying if you really love your wife you’ll love everything about her. To that I say “you haven’t met my mother-in-law. The day started out great, I opened my eyes to see my wife’s sensuous body gliding gracefully towards me and as she opened her mouth my body was excited in anticipation of her melodious voice only to hear her say what most husbands dread “darling my mom will be visiting tomorrow can you please pick her up?” I hear the sound of a promising day get flushed down the toilet. But honey you know i have that business meeting tomorrow I say; {now there’s a lie if I ever told one}. Your lying she says. Just say you don’t want to pick her up. Me lying? I am the lord of this manor, the king of the castle, why do I have to lie? Am not picking her up and that’s final. We’ll see she says

On my way to work I sit in traffic, fuming. Who does she think she is inviting her mother over like that? Does she think I am our father Adam who said to eve “but God said we shouldn’t eat it and she stroked his head saying shut up and eat you silly boy” and the rest is history. Or doe she think am Samson who was singing “why don’t you braid my hair” hand in hand with Delilah all the way to the barbershop. No way. In my house my word is law. Am at the top of the food chain.

We meet at 6 o’clock for mid-week fellowship and she has saved a space for me. The pastors’ sermon is on the miracles of Jesus ad we open to Matthew 8 vs. 14-15. The verse reads “when Jesus arrived at peters house, peters mother-in-law was in bed with a high fever. But when Jesus touched her head, the fever left her”. What is this? Some kind of divine conspiracy? She passes me a note and on it is written “you see, Jesus loved peters mother-in-law” and I write back “yeah JESUS loved peters mother-in-law, not peter.

Its 8.30p.m, I sit on the couch channel surfing and starving, wondering why I refused to eat her food earlier this evening. She saunters to the front of the TV and says “I’ve warmed your favorite are you ready to eat now?’ who told you I am hungry I reply. I know your not hungry but just eat to make me happy she says. Okay just because of the effort you put in I say. We both know I can’t resist her cooking, but she expertly strokes my ego and am starting to wonder who’s really in charge.

Its 9.45p.m, she’s massaging my shoulders and we start making passionate love on the sitting room floor. Thank God our daughter is only a year old. I wouldn’t want our kids rushing into the parlor screaming “daddy what are you doing to mummy? And why is she screaming yes yes yes when no one is asking her any questions”. She gives the signals for another round, I can’t let her know I am exhausted so I apply delay tactics until we both sleep off.

Its 7a.m and I wake up to my wife’s angelic smile. And I start thinking, who am I to judge father Adam? And maybe Samson wasn’t such a slowpoke after all. I am the lord of this manor, the king of the castle. My wife whispers in my ear “honey my mom just called, she’s at the park”. Am on my way, I reply, while I fetch my car keys. I know your saying, after all your tough talk you still gave in. To that I say “you haven’t met my wife”
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