Me Competitive?

I never felt competitive when I was in school. I studied hard and worried about my grades, and I usually did very well on tests. I didn’t feel competitive in sports either. I remember playing ping pong and tennis with my family, but I was a middling player, so I never aspired to be a consistent winner. When I played with my children, it was more as a means to have conversations than to win. And my husband was so much better than me in these sports, when I played with him I just did it for the exercise. I wasn’t competitive at work either.  While being a research scientist meant that part of my job was to submit grant proposals, as did many scientists hoping to get funding, I never felt I was in direct competition with others. I believed that there were sufficient monies for all the best proposals to get funded.

But as I get older, I am beginning to recognize that maybe I am competitive. I like word games- including Words with Friends, Scrabble and Boggle. When I win I feel magnanimous, attributing it to luck or long experience. But when I lose, I feel a little depressed for a while. Even when I play with people close to me, like my children, I am happy for their win… but am eager to play again to at least “even it up.” I suppose I was always competitive in word games, I just couldn’t admit it before. Actually, as I think about this, maybe I was competitive in other aspects of my life too – like work achievements, looks, home furnishings, etc. – I just couldn’t admit that either. But that topic is for another essay, on gender-based differences.

A new arena for competition emerged a few years ago when I met my new machetayneste… the Jewish word for the mother of one’s child’s spouse. There is no single word English equivalent, perhaps attesting to the greater importance of this connection in the Jewish tradition. There’s even a Yiddish song Machetayneste Mayne (mayne implying my dear) – about a mother who wants her daughter’s mother-in-law to treat her daughter well.

Signs of competition started early. After my daughter and her boyfriend got engaged, a dinner was arranged for the in-laws to meet- my husband and I, our daughter, her soon-to-be-husband, and his parents. The dinner was very cordial, everyone happy to be together, and the parents were happy that their children were very much in love. But I noticed that the machetayneste was younger and thinner than me, and had an attractive, well-coiffed hairstyle, while my curly hair is not easy to manage. She also had a lovely southern accent, having lived in Virginia her entire life. I knew that my Brooklyn accent, less sweet-sounding, was still with me even though I had moved away from Brooklyn decades ago. Meeting her and anticipating ongoing contact was a new experience for me, as my other child’s mother-in-law was living in Columbia, so the distance and our language differences meant that contact would be limited.

The next meeting was when my machetayneste (Nora) and I went with our children to explore wedding venues.   We all stayed together in an Air B& B – and Nora brought lots of snacks, including wine for us to share. I had not thought of bringing food and anticipated that we would buy what we wanted for the house together, and eat most meals out. Was I competing in hospitality?  And when we went into one of the wedding venues, Nora gracefully insisted that I go first – referring to me as the “important mother.” Wow- was I less gracious too? I decided to just relax and enjoy this special trip.

But as we drove around to visit places and talked about the wedding, Nora mentioned her desire to lose weight before the event. I hadn’t given much thought to this, as the event was about a year off. But since she was already thinner than me I said I planned to lose weight too. I then playfully said that I would send her cookies for the upcoming holiday season. We both laughed. But when the holiday came – we sent cookies and cakes to each other. Perhaps she felt a little competitive too. 

The wedding was lovely. I think we both had lost a few pounds, probably not enough for anyone to notice. About 13 months later our grandson was born. Nora asked to be called Nana and I said Grandma was fine for me- and we were glad we would have different names. We love our grandson very much, and we each try and see him every few weeks. Based on the pictures my daughter posts about our grandson, I know that both Nora and I regularly send or bring him clothes and toys. Perhaps I even feel a little competitive about what I bring him, since last time I went I made a kugel, a noodle pudding, using my Polish grandmother’s recipe. My daughter loves it and I hope my grandson will too. And I know that Nora makes and brings delicious southern delicacies when she visits them. I have concluded that my machetayneste and I have similar, and unique, ways of showing our grandson and his family the love we feel for them. There may be a little competition involved sometimes, but that will be fine, as it also represents a lifetime collaboration that we all welcome.