I got one of the best Chanukah/Christmas presents a woman can get, last Saturday (12.13.14):
A perfect daughter in law.
She’s beautiful, smart, independent, warm and caring and has a world of friends who love her. But that’s not why she’s perfect. She’s perfect because she adores my son, and seeing how happy he is around her makes me happy.
I am not a mother-in-law who has any intention of competing with my new daughter-in-law for my son’s attention. I’d lose, hands down, anyway! But I already know that she’d come to my side, in a flash, if I needed her.
I didn’t give a toast at the wedding last weekend (the two fathers gave the best toasts I’ve ever heard at any wedding), but if I had, I would have said that my new daughter-in-law truly gives credence to the adage: “You can tell a lot about a person by his (or her) friends.” Her close girlfriends I’ve met seem as genuine as my daughter-in-law. She is part of their families. She loves their little kids and they love her.
There doesn’t seem to be a bit of envy or competitiveness in the air when she and her friends are together. Only warmth and affection.
I can say the same thing about my son. Each one of his incredibly handsome and accomplished close friends is one-of-a-kind. I adore every single one of them. Their excitement about his happiness, at the wedding, was breathtaking. I’ve known these guys for years and they weren’t just making nice. They are thrilled he married this girl and to see him so happy. Almost the last of his friends to marry, my son seemed as if he’d be the “bachelor uncle,” forever.
Perhaps the best testament to my new daughter-in-law’s heart and soul is my own daughter, who counts her new sister-in-law as a friend and is thrilled her brother made such a wonderful choice and is so happy. BTW, my daughter speaks her mind like no one else I know, even me.
It’s a great comfort to see my children all grown up, with such fine partners. Of course, I’ll never stop worrying about them, but now I have a daughter and son-in-law to share the worrying.
What more can a Jewish mother (or any mother, for that matter) ask for?