It is physically painful for me to watch dh try to paint. I can't bear to even think about it. Imagine a man who has good bearing and sense (I said he has them, not that he always uses them) suddenly going slack-jawed, slumped, one hand in a pocket (it drives me crazy to see someone with hand/s in a pocket) and smearing a paint brush over, and over, and over, the same area until it's a sticky, lumpy mess. He makes a simple task so much work. I love to paint. I spend hours on prep; removing everything (nails, electrical plates, lighting fixtures). I clean, and Swiffer, and tape. I put down plastic sheets and tape them to the floor. I set up my paint station with everything I could possible need laid out on the stand like surgical instruments. Then the next day I begin the painting. I use primer; I cut in, and do the "W" with the roller, apply thin coats, and am through in no time at all. I'll brag; I'm a damn fine painter. It's just that I go slowly and spend far more time with prep and staging than I do in the actual applying of the paint. He wants to grab a can of paint and start smearing. I am the painter in the house. He will, after I've done all the prep, sometimes help with the roller parts, but I have to keep reminding him to not go over the area that already has paint. He can't "see" how it pulls up. So, I do the painting or hire a helper. The one lady that does the best work, even better than mine, is 72. Watching her paint is like seeing poetry. I love her to death. I do the fetch and carry for her, clean her brushes, fix her lunch, and learn at the feet of the master! So, never, ever try to paint with a husband. God made Man; then he made Woman. He made them attractive to one another. Then he sat back and had a good, long chuckle.

"why would parents repeatedly tell their children that they inherit something? why would this topic even come up? how would it start: hey i am going to leave you XYZ. lol repeatedly their whole life? why? I can see how maybe when they wrote the will they said something...but repeatedly tell them their whole life...what for? I get upset to think of my parents dying, as I watch them getting older, why would they be bringing it up my whole life?" In my case, I suspect it was a need on my Dad's part to periodically "set the record straight" because SM (for many years GF) brought up money issues incessantly. (Generally with the theme being "gimme, gimme".) I never once brought up these issues. My Dad got together with SM when I was 13 and inheritance (again, among many other money issues) was already being brought up then, long before I could even really comprehend the issue or had any reason to imagine my Dad would ever die (kids don't think about stuff like that). Another major talk occured when I was about 18 (surprise, surprise), then another one when I was about 20, then again when I was 24, then again when I was about 29, then several after he got sick when I was 30 up until he died when I was 32. His statements were always pretty much the same, with his wishes being to pretty much split everything he owned 60/40 (SM's favor). The only major change occured when *I* told *HIM* that I didn't think it would go well if he left the house for me and SM to split thusly, that it could cause any number of problems for both she and I. I told him he should just leave her the house outright. He then took it upon himself to arrange things so that his intended 40% to me was maintained by allocating other assets to me, but I had not asked him to do that. Overall, his wishes stayed the same for years, even though SM kept insisting she should have more. And even though she might have *expected* that she could make him change his mind. One very crucial little encounter, especially in hindsight, really drives home the point to me why he kept feeling this need to "set the record straight". (Sorry in advance to those who've read this story before... and sorry, too, that it's a little long.) It was about 1996, I was about 20, and my SM and I had gone last-minute holiday shopping together. I had only so much cash on me, which I'd used up on presents for my Dad (and her, btw) and others. We were kind of far from home and really hungry, and discussed going to the McDonald's that was on the way home. But this decision became a full-on philosophical crisis for SM, as she agonized out loud: "Hmmmm... well what should we do? I mean, you don't have any money left to get anything." And I said: "I can pay you back when we get to the house, I'm really REALLY hungry..." and after some serious moral rumination she finally agreed that was do-able. In hindsight, I think she was so consumed by her one-track mind obsession that as an ADULT, I, stepchild, should not EXPECT ---literally--- a dollar for ANYTHING that it next precipitated the following exchange, once we were inside the McDonald's eating our Happy Meals: SM: "You know, when Dad dies, everything's going to me. And then, when I die, if there's anything left, you'll get it at that point." ME: [bewildered as to where in the heck this subject was suddenly coming from] "Why are we talking about my Dad dying? Is he sick or something?" So over a decade later, when I finally had the nerve to tell my Dad about this little exchange (b/c he asked why I don't trust SM), and when he reacted with shock and said "I never told her that!", I believed him. Because in all those times he sat she & I down and told us what's what, that little plan of hers didn't enter the convo. I believe she was either 'testing' me out, trying to get some kind of rise out of me to start a family feud, or living a freakin' delusion in her brain. Which to me clearly illustrates why my Dad kept feeling the need to divest her of her persistently unfounded expectations. Which leads back to the orginal question. So to sum it up I think the reason my Dad regularly had these "sit-downs" with us all together about his will and what would happen is precisely because he wanted us both to hear the same thing out of his mouth at the same time in case either of us [she] tried to pull some deceptive little crap on the side. And he didn't want either of us having expectations that would be disappointed... especially her, apparently. My point with all this is that the situation that some SP's may view as "typical" ---that is adult kids "demanding" an inheritance--- is just simply not always so. Sometimes it's adult spouses who "demand". That's the main difference with my story, and perhaps it's unusual. I'm sure there are plenty of bratty, spolied adult stepkids who not only DEMAND an inheritance but who mean-spiritedly believe their parents' spouses should get nothing. I can honestly tell you that even though my SM has been a royal arse to me for many years, I would never think she deserved to get NOTHING, or less than what my Dad promised her in my presence.

I met my husband when we were 12 years old...March 25, 1959. He and his brothers and sisters moved to Texas to live with two uncles, because his parents died. One brother and two sisters lived with an uncle in a town about 7 miles away and he and his brother moved to my town. We had a very small school and two very handsome boys entering school was a big deal. All of the girls were crazy about them. They had blond hair, brown eyes, very tan, beautiful white teeth smiles. :sigh: I was such a tomboy...I wasn't very girly. I had braids that went to my waist and I rode my horse every day after school. He came to visit me, because I had a horse. ;) I didn't start dating him until I was 16, although I was crazy about him when we met and I used to write about him in my diary every day, but since he never talked to me, the only thing I had to write about was what he wore to school that day. When I was 14, I gave up...had other boyfriends. He asked me out when I was 16, and by then, I was over my infatuation with him, but I went anyway. We ended up dating for 3 years, married at 19 and almost 44 years later....still married. One child, born 15 years into our marriage.

Mtn, I am so sorry to read of your mother's passing and sorry you couldn't be with her these last few weeks and when she passed. We are living in a strange time, but you seem to have made the best of it. I loved your description of an obituary and think it's so meaningful that you were able to write it, as well as give the eulogy. You express yourself well; I'm sure she would have been proud. Cherish the memories.