Hands down the funnest blog ever! I had to pass this along.

Warning!!! If you are super senstive bypass this post. I however, find it very funny because it has to be a fear/thought of every mother with sons. Hope you get a good laugh...

THE MOTHER IN LAW PRENUP

By Scary Mommy contributor, Jenny Isenman

The moment you bring a baby boy into the world, you start to wonder when he’s going to leave you. That’s right. You know that one day he’ll leave you for another woman — even though he’ll propose to you all through toddlerhood and tell you that you are the only girl for him.

Liar.

You’re already quite certain that the woman he marries will probably resent you for being so awesomely cool. And you’re betting she’ll do whatever she can to break the strong bond you have with your sweet prince. Women say it’s good to marry mama’s boys, but they don’t really want to deal with the mama part.

Wenches!

My husband has told me time and time again to cut the cord… no f*****g way! I’m waiting until that thing rots and falls off. I mean, for how much longer is he going to say “I love you” when he walks out the door, or hug me in front of his friends, or ask me to lie with him at night? Frankly, I don’t know, but I won’t be the one to stop it.

If he’s 40 and wants me to lie with him and scratch his arm, I’ll be all “Move over, Megan,” or whatever his unappreciative, son-stealing wife’s name is.

Let’s be honest: he may be 5 now, but before we know it, he’ll be shaving, and driving, and then he’ll leave us to go to college somewhere cold. Then he’ll get married and move to be near her mother, because that’s what girls make boys do: move near their mothers! Then he’ll be a father, and then one fine holiday he’ll have “wifey” call us to cancel our plans. Then he’ll try to make up for it by sending one of those Harry & David gift baskets filled with pears, because he’ll remember that we love pears, but they’ll be bruised — like our hearts.

No, we can’t go down that road. We have to take a stand against son stealing right now.

We’ll make those Jezebels pay… no, sign! Yes, a contract for us to make them sign, besides the pre-nup. That’s right, like using WiFi in Starbucks, they’ll have to agree to our terms.

This is a MIL-nup, and it goes like this…

I will compliment my mother-in-law’s (MIL’s) cooking, her decorating, and, most importantly, the incredible way she raised her son, my husband.

I will marvel at my MIL’s beauty and miraculously never-aging skin every time I see her.

I will acknowledge that my MIL’s son is on loan to me so that we can make grandbabies, which will probably look like her and have her wonderful traits, which I will mention in conversation frequently and with great fervor.

I will remind my husband to call my MIL daily, saying, “Have you told your mother you love her today? You should, she rocks.” Plus, I will throw in phrases like this:
.
- “That amazing woman raised you! You should call and thank her… again.”
- “You can truly never thank her enough.”
- “Let’s go over and thank her in person.”
- “We should bring her a gift when we go.”
- “She’s so deserving of gifts.”
- “Let’s take her on vacation with us.”
- “And get her another gift.”
- “Maybe a beautiful locket with pictures of you and our children.”
- No, I don’t need to be in the pictures; she didn’t raise me… unfortunately.”

I will tell other women that their mothers-in-law are not as fabulous as mine, and I shall be willing to throw down in the event that said women disagree.

I will take my MIL to her weekly hair salon appointment and shopping at Loehmann’s, when it is deemed necessary by age.

I will spend all holidays with my husband’s family, because they are so awesome and gracious, and I realize how much mine sucks by comparison.

And lastly:

I will move to be near my MIL, whether she has retired to Century Village in Florida, decides to live in a nudist colony in Arizona, or goes bat-s**t crazy and moves to Alaska for the fresh sushi. She is so wise and wonderful that I’m sure her choice of habitat will suit me and my husband perfectly!

Oh, and: