My Father-in-Law Found Me the “Perfect” Gift. Oh No.

This is part of Help! Wanted, a special series from Slate advice. In the advising biz, there are certain eternal dilemmas that bedevil letter writers and columnists alike. This week, we’re taking them head-on.

Sometimes, all you need is a different perspective. So this week, our columnists have swapped fields of expertise. In this edition, Jessica Stoya, a How to Do It columnist, handles your parenting and family questions.

Dear Care and Feeding,

I have an in-law who is a wonderful man, but he has a hobby of going to estate/garage sales. Unfortunately, my husband and I frequently get stuck with his findings. The latest one is an awful, GIANT painting that he just knew I would love and was so proud of it that he pestered us until we hung it up. Even though it was extremely touching and thoughtful, I hate it. We have modern decor, and this painting is stuck in the 70s. He comments on how much he loves it whenever he comes over to our house. I know it was given out of love and I don’t want to hurt his feelings, so I’m struggling with what to do with it… Grin and bear it? Pretend there was an accident? Replace it with a family picture?

—Not My Taste

Dear Not My Taste,

Oh no! I can’t think of a single person I know who hasn’t been in some version of this situation. Personally, I tell my loved ones that I appreciate their sentiments, but really don’t need things—or those sorts of things, or that thing in particular. I’m able to get away with this because aside from books and lingerie, I’m not known for accruing material possessions, and my family and friends are used to my exceptionally blunt manner. Your mileage with that approach may vary wildly.

Another option is to redecorate a medium amount in a way that you like but also very much does not match with this painting. You want enough of a substantial change that it makes sense to remove the painting, but not so much that you lose the decor you like and have already worked hard to implement. For instance, if it’s got a lot of orange in it, go for green accents in your curtains and throw rugs. Then, when your in-law asks where the painting went, you can tell him that after you’d redecorated, you realized the room started to resemble Halloween, but you didn’t have space for it anywhere else because the painting is so large and imposing, so you’ve put it in safe storage—because you love that he gave you this gift (you do, you love the intention behind it) and want to keep it safe. You might also try to find a way to diplomatically mention that you’re pretty happy with the way your home currently looks and have been given so many items that you’re not in need of any more decorative objects. If you go that route, though, be cautious of laying it on too thick.

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Dear Care and Feeding,

I have been friends with “Greta” for over 15 years. I still want to continue that—even though our lives are very different now (she is a stay-at-home mom while I am climbing the corporate ladder). The problem is I don’t want to be an auntie. Kids are just not my cup of tea. I am perfectly willing to help out in an actual emergency, but if I come over to see Greta, I want to see Greta. Not have a playdate with her children, babysit for free on a regular basis, or be expected to attend children’s birthday parties or take them to the fair or on vacation to Disney World on my own dime. Greta has suggested all of this jokingly and not so jokingly. She complains about how a lot of our social circle “abandoned” her when she had her first kid and no one volunteered to help her out (which means regularly watching her kids). The lockdown gave me the excuse to avoid all the physical interactions but talk regularly to Greta on the phone. Only lately, she has been putting her oldest on the phone and telling her to talk to “auntie.” Not just hello, but several minutes of toddler babble. Every time. Greta was on bed rest for her first pregnancy so when I came over I would naturally do a few chores for her like vacuuming or unloading the dishwasher. I would do that for anyone who was ill, but I didn’t sign up for baby vomit or poo.

Greta very much has her identity wrapped up in her kids. I understand that. I don’t understand why she needs to drag me along. I don’t hate kids, but I don’t want them or particularly enjoy being around them a lot. Greta knows this about me, which is why the auntie role is so baffling to me. Her husband has several friends that barely interact with their children. They go regularly on hunting trips together. I can’t get Greta to agree to meet me for coffee without her kids. And her mother-in-law is very much grandbaby mad. I have actual nieces and nephews. We aren’t more than Christmas gift card close. Maybe that will change when they grow up, but it is what is. They all live far away while Greta is 15 minutes from my house. I do love Greta but I don’t know how to handle this conversation without keeping my boundaries and not offending her. My mother was a widow and had several lifelong friends with and without kids. They were never my aunties and I rarely interacted with them, but I knew I could call on them in an emergency. Is it worth having a real if potentially destructive conversation with Greta or should I just ghost? Greta got me through some very, very bad times in my twenties so I feel I owe her—just not regular child care.

—Not My Cup of Tea

Dear Cup of Tea,

I had someone like your Greta when I was in my late teens and 20s—Elizabeth Bierman, who is now a spiritual life coach. She’s got a kid, and (sorry to brag) we’ve still got a great relationship, so I called her for some advice.

“When there are other parts of our lives that don’t feel so great, we lose ourselves in the experience of being a mother, and want to bring people into that instead of still having those parts of our lives separate,” Elizabeth said. “I would never ask certain friends to babysit or do something that—there’s just this unawareness that this woman has.” (And I’m definitely one of those certain friends. I’m thrilled with the mad aunt role, but I’m unqualified to watch a child without backup.)

Elizabeth advises a talk with Greta. “Tell her exactly how you feel—that’s better than ghosting. Say something like ‘I love you, your kids are fine, but it’s just not my vibe. I don’t want to lose you but this makes me uncomfortable. There are people in this world who will show up in the ways that you want me to, and I love you, but this is who I am and how I can show up. This is what I’m capable of.’ Honesty and vulnerability are the new ghosting.”

Speaking more generally, Elizabeth added, “Allow people to show up in your life how they are. Whoever they are, allowing them to show up in that way—think about the freedom of that. Whether you’re a mom or not. Think about the freedom in that.” To which I replied, “Yeah, loving people unconditionally is the most beautiful thing I’ve done.”

Greta is expecting you to be someone you aren’t, though, and you’re within your rights to set boundaries with her. You might drift back together when the kids are older, or she might hear your words and make a change. Regardless, look for that pure love and places where you can safely give that love.

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Dear Care and Feeding,

Until a year and a half ago, I—a single, 33-year-old female—was living interstate and only saw my family in person once or twice a year. We’d keep in touch by regular phone calls, but it was usually my mother and me who did most of the talking while my father would kind of drift in and out of the background. Since moving back closer to home and spending more time around my parents, I’ve noticed that my 65-year-old father has become…kind of a jerk.

He’s extremely critical and finds fault with even the smallest of things that people do around him—things like the degree to which I open the blinds in my living room or the amount of condiments in my fridge. I try directing the conversations we have to agreeable, neutral topics, but everything seems to be a minefield: He complains about work, his friends, what’s on television, and my mother. (This I find particularly unfair because he does very little at home and she does almost everything.) If my father can’t find something to criticize, he will suggest things that “might” occur in the future, like that his neighbors might overuse their new car instead of taking public transport. If our city builds a new park and I suggest we take a walk through it, he’ll complain about the litter that might be there, and this will turn into a rant about young people today—you get the point.

I feel exhausted and on edge when I come away from a conversation with him and have started avoiding seeing him because I don’t want the stress and negativity. I’ve even stopped telling him about things I achieve or experience in my personal life because I don’t want to hear his critical comments. My mother is sympathetic to what I feel, but argues that as he’s my father, I shouldn’t avoid him and should just put up with his negativity. I don’t want to avoid my father—honestly, I miss how he used to be when I was younger and I wish we had a better relationship. I would love him to be in my life as a normal father but I can’t seem to get around the constant negativity and criticisms. Is there anything I can do? Or is this just my life now?

—Exhausted Daughter

Dear Exhausted Daughter,

I do wonder whether something has changed with your dad’s health (or mental health) that’s making him extra cranky. Your mom might have some insight for you on this. Barring these sorts of extenuating circumstances, though, your only option is to deal with the reality you’re in.

You have all paths open to you. Regardless of what your mother says you should do, it’s your life and your time. If making lists works for you, or journaling, I’d recommend one of those methods. If not, thinking in the shower or on a long walk, or talking with a trusted friend are other great ways to process decisions. When thinking about whether you want to accept your father as he is (what is normal anyway?) consider what he brings to your life. Consider what he has brought to your life over the years, too—that means something. Do consider the negatives he’s currently offerring as well.

Go ahead and think about another option, too: shutting him out of your life entirely—going no-contact, seeing only your mother, avoiding family gatherings so you aren’t in the same room with him. Does that feel like what you want to do? If so, that absolutely is your prerogative. But maybe there’s some kind of middle ground. Can you talk with your dad about the changes in his tone and behavior? If you’re willing to lose the relationship, are you also willing to risk a blowup for the chance that he’ll listen to you and reverse course?

Some parents do listen to their children, and are willing to make modifications to keep their relationships with their children intact. And your mom might be a useful resource here—she’s invested in keeping the family together, so she may be open to brainstorming with you about how to approach that conversation with your father. You can also split the middle by inviting your mom out of the house most of the time and limiting your interactions with your dad rather than cutting him completely out. It doesn’t need to be all or nothing.

—Stoya

My grandmother once had a diamond necklace that was a family heirloom. My grandfather, who didn’t know how to keep things in his pants, ended up giving it to one of his mistresses. My grandmother mourned the loss of the necklace until the day she died. Recently, I happened to stumble across the necklace, or what I think is the necklace, on eBay.