“Don’t Count Other People’s Money”
“You’re overspending again!”
Anna sighed. Nearly every conversation with her husband lately started with these words or something similar whenever she showcased her new acquisitions. Recently, she even stopped sharing her purchases with John, whether it was a new sweater, shoes, or handbag. But, of course, he always noticed the updates in her wardrobe, which led to arguments.
Objectively, John had no grounds to accuse Anna. She earned as much as he did, and they both contributed equally to the family expenses. No matter how hard he tried, John couldn’t claim that he supported her or spent more on household expenses than she did. Yet for some reason, every new purchase Anna made seemed to provoke his annoyance.
Anna couldn’t figure out why. The family wasn’t struggling financially—they could comfortably pay their mortgage, afford a nice summer holiday, and still have plenty of money left for small pleasures like new clothes. But out of nowhere, John’s stinginess emerged. Anna pondered over the possible reasons. They had known each other for many years, since they met in their first year of university; their friendship blossomed into affection, and eventually into a deep love. They got married right after graduation and had been together for five years in a generally happy marriage—until recently.
John worked at a law firm, specializing in civil law, and had promising prospects—potentially becoming a partner in the future. Anna was employed at a large real estate agency, managing the accounting. Their hectic work schedules hadn’t allowed them to consider starting a family, although they were both twenty-nine. Their parents often hinted that it was time to think about having children.
“Annie, don’t delay,” said her mother, Mrs. Taylor, a petite, athletic woman. “Having children late is risky; the baby could be unhealthy.”
Mrs. Taylor had given birth to Anna at thirty-three, a fact Anna often reminded her of, pointing out that she had no congenital issues. To which Mrs. Taylor would only shrug, “I was lucky. But don’t push your luck; I might have been fortunate, but you may not be! Fate is a capricious thing.”
She would then superstitiously spit over her left shoulder or make the sign of the cross. Anna sighed inwardly, knowing it was impossible to change her mother’s mind.
John’s parents didn’t ease off either—they eagerly insisted on their desire to have grandchildren. Two or even three, preferably.
“You’ve got everything,” John’s father would start his spiel, “the house, the car, the job. Money’s not an issue. Sit your Anna at home and let her have babies! That’s what women are for.”
“Come on, don’t pressure him!” his wife would join in, seemingly protesting. “Women can do so much! But do hurry up, John, we’d love to play with grandkids already!”
Time went by. Anna and John gradually accustomed themselves to these conversations, accepting them as inevitable. But naturally, their parents showed no signs of giving up. Seeing that their simple suggestions bore no fruit, as the young couple wasn’t rushing to expand their family, they shifted to a more proactive approach.
Anna’s mother, usually lively and energetic, suddenly became “ill.” She gave up her beloved Nordic walking and swimming, and during every meeting with her daughter, she wouldn’t miss an opportunity to lament how even simple household tasks had become challenging. Mr. Taylor mostly kept quiet, speaking only to affirm his wife’s words with a nod and then quickly turning away as if the conversation was unpleasant for him.
Anna recognized these as nothing but deception and manipulation. Her mother had no serious ailments, except for slightly elevated blood pressure. Mrs. Taylor was exceptionally robust, having been an athlete in her youth and even participating in regional competitions. Well into her sixties, she hadn’t lost her form. Anna couldn’t recall her mother being sick with anything beyond a common cold, and even then, it usually passed quickly.
So these constant talks of deteriorating health were mere tricks. Anna could see her mother was fine—eating heartily, enjoying her favorite gingerbread and salads. When Anna visited, there was always a meat pie and a complex soup on the table—dishes no severely sick woman could prepare.
Listening to Anna’s complaints about her mother’s clumsy manipulation, John would only chuckle.
“Does she say she may soon pass away without ever having cared for grandchildren, huh?” He’d pull Anna close, kiss her forehead, and lightly brush her skin with his lips. “Don’t let it get to you, Annie. They’re just eager for progress. And we’ve already made our plans, haven’t we?”
Indeed, the couple had made their decision. Anna would work another year—to secure enough tenure to find a comparable job post-maternity leave—and then resign. She’d focus on her health, complete necessary check-ups she currently didn’t have time for. Then they’d start their family. Perhaps more than one child.
But for now, they weren’t ready to share their plans with their parents. Doing so would only provoke cries of “why such a delay,” and neither Anna nor John wanted to further agitate their already excited parents. Instead, talks about future offspring were reserved for private conversations between each other.
Everything was going reasonably well, except for Mrs. Taylor’s lamentations about her health—until John began accusing Anna of extravagant spending without cause.
Anna tried to comprehend the situation but was at a loss. She then decided to review her expenses via her banking app. Could it be that she had been spending more on herself without realizing it, and John, being a prudent and responsible man, was trying to alert her?
However, a thorough analysis revealed her spending hadn’t increased. Anna set aside her phone and pondered. So, there were no valid reasons for John’s complaints. Perhaps he was facing difficulties at work and worried about future financial challenges for the family?
Anna resolved to discuss this with John. On their day off, sitting on the sofa with freshly brewed coffee, she voiced her concerns.
John shook his head, setting aside his half-finished coffee cup.
“No, Anna, everything at work is fine. Really. Don’t worry about that; I wouldn’t keep such things from you.”
“Then what’s the issue?” Anna asked directly. “Look, I analyzed my expenses—they haven’t increased.”
Retrieving her phone, she showed him the graphs in her banking app. John scrolled through them, frowning.
“You even spent less last month,” Anna added, puzzled by his expression. “What’s going on?”
“It’s my mother,” John reluctantly confessed. “She’s constantly nagging me about saving—saying we won’t have money for a child if we keep spending like this…”
“So, it’s her?” Anna said slowly, beginning to realize who was behind John’s spending complaints. “Is your mother counting our money?”
John nodded apologetically. Anna felt an urge to get angry, but instead, she laughed.
“What a sly move!” she shook her head. “You realize your mother is trying to pressure us? First, she wants me to save, then she’ll bring up ‘now that you’ve saved enough, start on grandkids’ conversations.”
“I know,” John said reluctantly. “But how can I prove it to her?”
“You can’t,” Anna replied with a shrug. She thoughtfully looked at her cup of coffee. “John, why don’t we share our plans with our parents? Sure, they might complain about the delay, but we’ll lay out the situation as it is—with my job tenure and everything. I think they’ll understand. And even if they don’t, it won’t make things worse.”
“Yes, maybe…” John mused.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday; let’s invite them for tea and discuss it all as a family. How about that? I’ll bake something. Your parents love my shortbread cookies—I can make those.”
“Alright,” John hugged his wife and kissed her on the forehead, as usual. “You’re right—it’s better to discuss things openly than to plan behind closed doors.”
