Nothing ruins a Paris vacation like traveling to the City of Light with one’s mother-in-law. All my life I had dreamed of my first Parisian vacation: la Tour Eiffel; le musée du Louvre; l’Arc de Triomphe. I had romantic notions of sipping my miniature espresso at an outdoor café while reading Derrida (in French, no less) and occasionally adjusting my perfectly imperfect Hermès silk scarf to flatter my perfectly imperfect profile.

All of my phantasmagoria, of course, was shattered in one fell swoop: “Happy birthday! We’re sending you to Paris and we’re coming with you!” exclaimed my husband’s parents. Now don’t get me wrong. An all-expenses-paid trip to Paris isn’t a typical birthday present, and my gratitude was enormous. I immediately plunged into Let’s Go travel guides and memorized helpful words and phrases such as, Bonjour! and Merci! and Où sont les toilettes?

My favorite section in my pocket-sized French phrasebook was the chapter titled “Social Issues.” A tourist in France, with this oh-so-comprehensive guidebook, would have no trouble whatsoever checking into a boutique hotel, navigating the Metro, or locating the nearest methadone clinic. Existe-t-il des traitements à la methadone dans ce pays? Honestly, I pondered, how many American tourists travel all the way to Paris only to ask themselves, “Where is the methadone treatment in this country?” So with trusty (and thorough) phrasebook in hand, I was ready to meet Paris. Needless to say, my preparations for my nine-day premiere voyage to grand old Paris were meticulous and methodical (sans the methadone).

I convinced myself that traveling with my husband’s well-intentioned parents would be a pleasant respite from all of my previous uncomfortable in-law encounters. In fact, I determined that this would be the trip that turned the four of us into best friends forever, from this point forward, till death do us part. But, alas, despite my hyperbolic positive thinking, my Parisian in-law adventure proved to be a real hazard to wedded bliss. Comments on what I ate (or did not eat) at the breakfast table, flippant remarks on how much I spent on a cashmere sweater from an upscale boutique on St. Honoré, and a jam-packed travel schedule (instead of the leisurely pace I usually adopt on vacations) proved to be draining and devastating to my Parisian fantasies.

Now before anyone starts to make crass judgments about my petty annoyances, allow me to make a general disclaimer: When it comes to my in-laws I indeed recognize their overall good intentions and well-meaning attempts at family bonding; and, despite my protests, I have a deep affection and genuine love for them. I should say, however, that m y short temper with my husband’s parents is not entirely an abnormal reaction. In fact, almost across universal lines, in-law angst seems to run rampant.

I’ve actually come to the conclusion that in-law anxiety is something inherent to human nature. How many movies, television sitcoms, great works of fiction and poetry, psychoanalytic theories, and Dr. Phil episodes have taken up the subject of in-law conflicts? Sigmund Freud rose to international status with his unnerving fixation on dysfunctional mother/son relationships (i.e., the Oedipus complex) and, to a lesser degree, the complexities of father/daughter interactions (i.e., Electra). People are still buzzing about D.H. Lawrence’s epic novel, Sons and Lovers, which explores the triangular connectivity and complexities between mother, son, and the son’s eventual sweetheart lurking in the foreseeable future. And in contemporary culture, the success of Everybody Loves Raymond owes much to the comedic and cringe-inducing relationship between Ray, Debra, and the ubiquitous nightmarish and overprotective mother-in-law, Marie Barone.

Even the Bible includes an illustrative Hebrew story of mother/daughter-in-law relations as found in the Book of Ruth. In this Jewish story, the recently-widowed heroine and title character, Ruth, opts to leave her Moab home to follow her mother-in-law, Naomi, to the land of Judah. The story is an emblematic tale of sacrifice, selflessness, and devotion like no other. When I first heard the story of Ruth and Naomi as a young girl I didn’t quite comprehend the enormity of Ruth’s actions. So what? Ruth moved to Judah from Moab. Big deal. I mean, it was only across the Dead Sea. In my childhood I drove plenty a time across state lines from Iowa to Minnesota to see my grandparents, and the trips certainly did not seem noteworthy nor biblical. Really, what was all of the fuss about Ruth leaving her home and following her mother-in-law, Naomi? Now that I have a mother-in-law of my own, however, I’m beginning to understand what the fuss really is all about. If something were to happen to my husband (God forbid), would I myself have the fortitude to pack my Samsonite tapestry-printed luggage and move permanently to the land of my husband’s matriarchal homeland in Wall Lake, Iowa, to live out my days with my mother-in-law? I’m not sure I like what this Bible story seems to be telling me, but the message of selflessness, compromise, and matriarchal lineage is clear despite my rant.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” as Hamlet’s mother Queen Gertrude famously pronounces in Shakespeare’s exploration of mother/son interactions. The fact of the matter is that my relationship with my in-laws is actually quite good. We share a similar interest in adoring my husband, Jason. We share similar views on God and marriage and family. We share a similar Midwestern upbringing and work ethic. So, I suppose, my real discomfort lies in the fact that maybe I’m more like my mother-in-law than I want to admit.

Regardless of my immediate apprehension at the thought of traveling to another international locale with my in-laws, I’m already bracing myself for next year’s trip. My mother-in-law has already bandied about the lure of Russia: The Kremlin. Red Square. The Hermitage. And, armed with the experience (and the agony) of having traveled to Paris with the in-laws, I have some ideas to blunt the misery: Where did you say the methadone clinic is in this country again?