I actually refer to MIL as Mrs Bucket.
When I baked a cake for our first meeting, she asked me if I'd worn an apron. I hadn't so she didn't eat it.
She used to bring her own washing up gloves, kitchen roll and pinny when she came to visit. For 4 hours.
When I went into labour with DC2, she was booked to look after DC1. It took her 3 hours to arrive at 5am because a) she'd applied a full face of make up and b) she'd made a fish pie from scratch.
When we were discussing missing my late DH, she replied, "But I bore him from my woooomb!"
Upon hearing a young couple in a hotel having sex, she relayed the story and her complaint to the manager, who she'd also told she was "A woman of the world, but really it wasn't good enough."
She spent many years worrying about the inadequacies of my Asda kitchen roll.
For Christmas when DH died, she wrapped a range of random Lakeland goods individually in black tissue paper for me, including 36 small place cleaners and 2 individual Christmas puddings.
If I went out for a couple of hours and left her with the DC, she would make a point of washing my oven gloves and rearranging my ornaments.
She had new gates with gold fleur de lit on them.
She told DH I had migraines 'for attention'.
And dreadfully, she used to write next to DSIL's birthday in the calendar each year her age followed by 'eggs are dying'. At 42, said SIL had a baby out of wedlock. MIL declared this a 'terrible tragedy'.