(I’m a computer addict, and severely arachnophobic. I’ve just encountered a cave full of spiders in a game I play, and can’t handle them myself. I head into the living room, where my mother is reading a book.)

Me: “Mooommy?”

(She is instantly suspicious.)

Mom: “…what?”

Me: “Will you kill the spiders in WarCraft for me?”

(I have to teach her how to play, but she does it!)

(My fiancé is a Marine. We are arguing because of a poorly worded statement about the worth of civilians. We both have tempers; his causes him to deny the problem exists, and mine causes me to go cry and go non-verbal at times because I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling through words. His mother is in the room, attempting to mediate.)

Fiancé: “Why am I always the bad guy?”

Me: “I never called you the bad guy! I told you that you said something that could be interpreted as f*****-up. My problem at this point is that you refuse to take ownership of it!”

Fiancé: “There’s nothing to take ownership of! I didn’t say anything wrong!”

Me: “You insinuated that I was worthless because I’m a civilian, and made mistakes. How is that nothing to take ownership of?”

Fiancé: “I didn’t say it about you, so I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m not apologizing because I’m not in the wrong here! Maybe you should learn to listen and ask questions before you jump to stupid conclusions.”

Me: “God, you came back from boot camp and you suddenly think your way of thinking is the only right one!”

Mother-In-Law: “Easy now…”

Fiancé: “Well, maybe I should go to [USMC base in Japan]! I’ll be with military people with the same military mindset as me, and I won’t have to put up with people making me into the bad guy for nothing! How’s that work for you?”

Mother-In-Law: “Oh, god! Don’t be silly!”

(My temper flares, because he has brought up something he knows will hurt me; him going overseas and leaving me behind.)

Me: “You… I…”

Mother-In-Law: “Honey…”

(I grunt in exasperation and stomp my foot.)

Mother-In-Law: “Use your words, honey.”

Me: “Go fu—”

Mother-In-Law: “Not that one!”

Me: “You… hurt… me. I spent years trying not to feel worthless, and what you said to me made me feel worthless.”

Mother-In-Law: “Keep going…”

Me: “What you said hurt, and you don’t care because you’d rather be right than sorry. It doesn’t matter if it was an accident; it still hurt. Why doesn’t that matter to you?”

(I burst into tears. My fiancé stops and stares at me for a minute, then pulls me into a hug and apologizes over and over. His mom smiles, and starts talking to him.)

Mother-In-Law: “Son, you were in the wrong here, not because your statement had malicious intent, but because you refused to acknowledge that you hurt her. You felt that her complaint wasn’t valid because you didn’t see a problem with your statement, and you didn’t want to be wrong and admit you’d hurt her. You need to understand that your reality isn’t the only one; different people experience things differently. You two are talking about spending forever together, but forever’s a long time to spend with someone who can’t see the other side of a story. You need to take accountability when you hurt one another, even if it’s an accident.”

(We both nod, and his mom pulls out his baby book. We spend the rest of the night cuddled up, laughing at pictures and discussing where the comment went wrong until we both fall asleep. I don’t think I can ever properly thank my mother in law for what she did, because I’m almost certain the relationship would have ended that night had she not brought me down.)

(My mum is pregnant with me. My parents don’t have a car, so the emergency plan for labour starting while my dad is at work is for my grandmother to pick up my dad, and then take the both of them to the hospital.)

Mum: “Mum, it’s happening right now!”

Grandmother: “I’ll be right there!”

(More time passes than Mum expects, and the pain is bad. She gets in the shower to try to ease it. My two-year-old brother comes in.)

Brother: “What are you doing?”

Mum: “It’s okay, sweetheart; I’m fine.”

(My brother proceeds to join my mother in the shower, fully clothed. Mum gets both of them out quickly, but is in too much pain to change my brother’s clothes. She calls my grandmother again, but there’s no answer. She goes into the bedroom and tries to breathe. The phone rings.)

Mum: “[Brother], can you get the phone please?”

Brother: “Hello? …no, mummy can’t come to the phone.”

Mum: “Tell them the baby’s coming, [brother].”

Brother: “She’s in the shower.”

(The phone rings several more times, and my brother supplies increasingly alarming answers to why mum can’t come to the phone, such as ‘she’s asleep on the kitchen floor’ and ‘she’s dead’. My grandmother FINALLY shows up.)

Grandmother: “Are you ready to go?”

Mum: “I’m not going anywhere! The baby’s coming now! What took you so long?!”

Grandmother: “Well, I had to have a shower, and put makeup on.”

Mum: “What?!”

Grandmother: “You need to get to the hospital—”

Mum: “Not happening; change [brother], he’s soaking wet, and tell [dad] to call an ambulance!”

(My dad does so, and my grandmother comforts my brother, who, by this stage, has no idea what’s going on and is panicking. My mum sits, legs crossed, on the bed, trying to wait for the ambulance, but she can’t. She stands, gives birth, and catches me. My brother gets away from my grandmother and runs into the room.)

Brother: “THERE’S BLOOD EVERYWHERE! THERE’S BLOOD EVERYWHERE!”

Grandmother: “Oh, that’s not blood; that’s the baby’s poo. Naughty baby; pooing everywhere.”

(My mother is in shock, and doesn’t move. The ambulance arrives, and the paramedics cut the cord and get me wrapped up in a blanket.)

Paramedic #1: “I am AMAZED you managed to catch her!”

Paramedic #2: “I’m amazed you managed to stay in control at all with all this going on around you! Lucky there were no complications! With the baby, I mean.”

(Both mum and I come out of the whole thing fine, but my brother spends a year poking his head under toilet doors, asking people what coloured poo they are having, thanks to my grandmother.)

(My mom, stepdad, brother, close friend, and I are at a popular restaurant. I am a transgendered female to male, and my friend is also male. This makes my mom the only woman at the table. Mom is not 100% okay with my transition.)

Waitress: “Okay, so are we all ready?”

(We all nod.)

Waitress: “Sweet! Okay, so ladies first!”

(She turns to my mom. My mom looks at me.)

Me: “Well, mom, aren’t you ready to order yet?”

(My mom blushes.)

Mom: “Oh , I guess you meant me!”

(I think that was the first day mom really realized I am not a girl.)

Related:
Simple Genderalisation

(The weather has been nice, but the forecast is calling for evening rain showers.)

Me: “Hey, mom, it’s supposed to rain, so don’t forget to close the storms.”

(We have wooden sills, and the rain can damage them. Hours later, I come downstairs for a snack, only to hear the rain on the front walk.)

Me: “Mom! The storms! You forgot to close the storms!”

(I’m running through the house trying to close all of them, when I notice she hasn’t lifted a finger to open a single one.)

Me: “You ignored me just so I’d do all the work, didn’t you!?”

Mom: *cackles evilly*