Mother-in-Law From Hell. Moi?

My poor son has a problem mother; a mother who is so psychically connected to him that he can't keep his misery a secret from me.

It has been that way since he was born. When he fell and scraped his knees, I hurt. When he struggled with his shyness and only-child isolation, I ached inside. When he lost his virginity, I knew it, although we never discussed it. No matter where he is or what other distractions are occupying my immediate thoughts, I know from within what is going on with him.

And so it was, this morning, when I sent him a text message, letting him know that it is okay for him to tell me he is back with his girlfriend -- again. I have known it for several weeks, without the benefit of any gossip or any information directly from him. For one thing, when it happens, my son becomes uncharacteristically scarce. He goes from texting or calling several times a week to nada.

Sometimes it's because he is busy going to auditions, as he has been during what he calls television's *pilot season.* He has recently decided to become a champion golfer on some non-PGA tour for amateurs, so that has become an obsession that keeps him on a practice range or on the course every time he can string two to four hours together. He tried to tell me that it was auditions and golf that had kept him out of touch this time, but I knew better--thus, the invitation to come clean. Poor kid.

He has been entwined with a gorgeous TV spokesmodel for the past three years, about half of which have been spent "broken up." During their off-times he has poured his heart out to Mom, telling me every reason why she is not The One, how she is bi-polar or some other off-kilter kind of personality. He has told me more than enough for me to have snarled on one very late-night phone call: "If I have to die without grandchildren, I'd rather do that than have her as my grandchildren's mother!"

That was a boneheaded thing for me to say. You know that I know better than that. When I was married, I always resisted the urge to share my husband's peccadilloes with my parents, because I knew that long after the spat had passed between my husband and me, my parents would store that data into their memory banks and hold it against him.

Anyway, I said it. At the time he thought that was so very cool of me. As usual, I was supporting him, taking his side. Later, he apparently came to regret having told me those things, because now, when they drift back into their co-dependent game of life together, he feels he needs to at least try to keep me in the dark.

Being the mother of an adult son is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I have always respected his manhood, his right to privacy, his freedom to smoke pot, and drink that wicked Jagermeister. But I still call and remind him to do his taxes. When Oprah decided to launch her anti-texting- while -driving campaign, I sent him a text to beg him not to text while driving. He probably read it on LA's highway 101!

I am determined, however, never to be some young woman's barely tolerated mother-in-law from hell. And it has become increasingly clear that this woman's ascendance to the title of Luckiest Woman in the World Who Snagged My Handsome, Talented, and Brilliant Son -- well, it's entirely likely.

Maybe the movie Fatal Attraction will be reprised. He would be great in the lead role.