He Thought She Was a Bad Mother and Wife
A friend of mine, a mother of three, recently remarried. I find it quite mysterious how she managed this. No, it’s not that mothers with many children can’t get married. They can, if they’re loved! It’s just that for as long as I remember from her first marriage, she was always the “worst mother and the worst wife.”
I visited her home several times during her “previous” life. I remember her always being exhausted, overwhelmed, and scattered.
Sometimes her porridge would burn, the youngest would wander around in wet clothes for an hour, while she juggled him, the middle child’s homework, and cooking. She barely had the time to change the wet clothes. And she had to prepare dinner before her husband got home from work. Somehow, she had to tidy up because he liked the house neat. She’d grab toys and shove them into boxes while the little one threw them around again. Meanwhile, she’d open the internet and send emails; she also did small jobs to make ends meet, as her husband’s salary wasn’t enough. All of this turned into a never-ending, dreary chaos. Her husband would come home, look around at the mess, and casually remark:
“Give the cat some water! Do something useful…”
Half-jokingly, half-serious. But I remembered his words well. And my friend would drop her emails, ladle, and the wet clothes, and with an apologetic smile, pour water into the cat’s dish—doing the one useful thing of the day.
I made a foolish suggestion back then. To lighten the mood, I half-jokingly suggested ditching the cats and the half-finished dinner, gathering the kids, putting on some makeup (for her), and going to a café.
“I’ll bring mine along too.”
“She’s too old to wear makeup!” her husband quipped. Also jokingly, it seemed… I looked at this woman and was horrified to realize she was actually younger than me. And if she was old, then what did that make me?
She apologized and said they preferred homemade meals. She started setting the table, where her husband sat waiting. The children scattered their toys nearby, and with an invisible “third” hand, she gathered them immediately because her husband liked things tidy. Her phone beeped, likely work emails.
“Stop spending all day online,” her husband said. I said my goodbyes and left.
“I’m to blame.”
No, she never complained to anyone. Never! No matter how often you asked, everything was always fine. The grayer and greener she looked, the more confidently she answered, “Everything’s fine!” hiding her lifeless eyes.
We always had many mutual acquaintances. And I often heard from them that her mother-in-law was very displeased with her. The daughter-in-law was a bad mother because the little one fell off his bike and split his brow, requiring stitches. She should have been watching him instead of wasting time… A bad wife because the house was a mess and the children and husband weren’t well-fed.
Once, her husband went to the school, and there was a scandal at home afterward. The eldest misbehaved, all because the “bad mother” was doing who knows what instead of parenting. I heard she began taking antidepressants because, yes, she was a bad mother and a bad wife. She did nothing, and there just wasn’t any strength to do anything… Even the children realized it.
“Mom, you’re bad!!!” the youngest shouted on the street when we were together. “You don’t read me books.” She’d pull a book out of her bag and resignedly and tiredly start reading. She really wanted to be a good mother.
Then they divorced. Her husband met another woman. Probably a good wife and homemaker. But, in all fairness, he dutifully paid child support and stayed involved with the children.
“That’s just how it is,” my friend said when I asked. “I guess I’m to blame.”
She moved with her children, exchanged the flat, and for a long time, we didn’t see each other.
“From Ugly Duckling to Swan”
Time passed, and recently we “reconnected” through social media. She wrote to me herself. I was surprised. From her profile picture, a different, unfamiliar woman looked out at me. Vibrant, beautiful, joyful, and full of life. I was intrigued and suggested we meet.
We caught up at a café. I couldn’t believe my eyes. She had truly transformed. She carried herself with a newfound confidence in herself, life, and others. That’s when I found out she had remarried.
“I still don’t know why he noticed me,” she shared. “I wasn’t in the right space for that. Just trying to survive…”
But the man didn’t give up, courted her, befriended her children, and proposed.
Turns out, she’s the best mother and wife. Burnt an omelette—still the best hostess. And the next day, she was baking pies because she wanted to spread joy.
A messy house—still a wonderful mother and wife. Because, as it turns out, you can clean up together and have a lively chat.
Turns out, it’s not necessary to carry all the shopping bags alone and then be scolded for forgetting something because you were “wasting time.” You can shop together and laugh if something’s forgotten. Turns out she isn’t old, but the most beautiful woman in the world. And there she is doing her hair in the evening, just to welcome home the one who sees her as beautiful.
Turns out she’s brilliant because she manages small jobs. But it’s not a necessity. Only if she wants to.
Turns out, she wasn’t the useless failure she considered herself for years. All because she was loved, praised, and appreciated. Not reproached.
…I listened in amazement. And then her new husband came to pick her up. And I understood everything. You see, he looked at her in a way that made her truly blossom. It was impossible for her not to. He spoke to her and cared for her in a way that made it impossible not to become the most wonderful woman in the world.
He brought along her three children. I saw them briefly. But even briefly, I noticed that she was the best mother. That’s how they behaved.
All because a person who believed in her was by her side. Someone who transformed her from an ugly duckling to a magnificent swan… It’s crucial to have someone who helps you become that swan. Because a swan needs time, strength, and love to stretch its wings.
No, I don’t want to say anything specific. I don’t want to blame anyone. Life is diverse. But that’s the story. And I am very curious about what her first husband thinks now.
