“Mind Your Own Business”
“You’re spending frivolously again!”
Anna sighed. Almost every conversation with her husband, James, began like this lately, whenever she showed him something new she’d purchased. Recently, Anna had stopped even mentioning her new buys to James, be it a sweater, shoes, or a handbag. But of course, he couldn’t help but notice her wardrobe updates. And start an argument.
Objectively, Anna couldn’t be faulted. She earned just as much as James, and they both contributed equally to the household budget. No matter how hard he tried, James couldn’t claim he was supporting her or that he was spending more on shared expenses. Yet for some reason, all her recent purchases for herself provoked his indignation.
Anna couldn’t figure out why. Their family was financially comfortable—they were paying off their mortgage without issue, could afford nice summer holidays, and had more than enough leftover for small treats like new clothes. But suddenly, James turned stingy. Puzzling over the cause, she recalled how they’d met in their first year at university, their early affection turning into a strong bond and eventually love. They’d married right after graduation. Now, they’d been happily married for five years—until these recent spats.
James worked at a law firm, specializing in civil rights, and showed great promise, with a partner track in sight. Anna managed accounts at a big real estate agency. Their busy schedules left no room for family planning, though they were both twenty-nine and their parents hinted that it was time to start thinking of kids.
“Don’t delay, Ann,” her mom, Vera, a fit and sporty woman, urged. “Waiting too long increases the risks of complications and health issues for the child.”
Anna often reminded Vera that she was born when Vera was thirty-three, pointing out the lack of any developmental issues. To which her mom would just shrug.
“I got lucky. But you might not. Luck’s a fickle thing.”
She’d usually spit over her left shoulder or make the sign of the cross. Anna would sigh silently, knowing she couldn’t change her mom’s mind.
James’s parents were persistent too, keen to have grandchildren—preferably two or even three.
“You’ve got everything—a house, a car, a steady job. So, let Anna stay home and have babies!” James’s father would insist.
“Stop pressuring him!” his wife would retort half-heartedly. But then she’d add, “Still, James, do hurry up. We really want to spoil some grandkids!”
Time passed with Anna and James slowly adjusting to these conversations like an inevitable part of life. But their parents didn’t relent. Seeing that gentle coaxing wasn’t working and their children weren’t rushing to expand the family, they resorted to more overt tactics.
Anna’s mom suddenly became “unwell,” giving up her love of Nordic walking and swimming, often mentioning how she now struggled even with household chores. Her husband would only speak when prompted to confirm her words, nodding briefly before looking away, as if indifferent to the conversation.
Anna understood the manipulation perfectly. Her mom wasn’t seriously ill; she only had slightly high blood pressure. Vera, strong and sporty since youth, even won competitions and retained her vigor well into her sixties. Anna couldn’t recall her mom being sick, aside from the occasional mild cold.
Her mom’s tales of declining health were deceitful. Anna saw that Vera was healthy, enjoying hearty meals, and devouring her favorite treats. She’d always prepare rich dishes for Anna’s visits—meals a truly sick person couldn’t manage.
James would chuckle at Anna’s complaints about her mom’s clumsy manipulation attempts.
“She says she’s dying and won’t be around to see grandkids, right?” He’d wrap his arm around her, kiss her temple lightly. “Don’t worry, Ann. They’re just pushing us. We already have a plan, remember?”
Indeed, they’d made a decision. Anna would work another year to solidify her career, ensuring a smooth reentry post-maternity leave. Then, she’d take care of her health, completing necessary check-ups she had no time for now, and they’d start trying for a baby. Maybe even more than one.
But they weren’t in a rush to share their plans with their parents yet. The uproar over “why the delay” deterred them from stirring up already agitated relatives. Thus, plans for children were confined to private talks between Anna and James.
Everything was fine, apart from Vera’s constant complaints about her health until James started criticizing Anna’s spending needlessly.
Anna couldn’t understand. She reviewed her expenses through her banking app. She wondered if perhaps she had indeed started spending more without realizing and James, as a cautious and prudent husband, was only looking out for her.
However, the analysis showed her expenses were consistent. Anna pondered. Since there was no real reason for complaints, maybe something wasn’t going well at James’s work, making him worry about finances?
Anna decided to talk to her husband. During their day off, as they sat on the couch with fresh coffee, she voiced her concerns.
James shook his head, placing his cup down.
“No, Ann, work’s going great. Really. I wouldn’t hide something like that from you.”
“Then what’s wrong?” Anna asked directly. “Look, I checked my spending—it hasn’t increased.”
She showed him the banking app on her phone. James frowned at the graphs.
“Last month I even spent less,” Anna added, confused by his frown. “What’s going on?”
“It’s my mom,” James admitted reluctantly. “She’s been on me about saving for a child, saying we won’t have enough if we keep spending.”
“So she’s counting my money?” Anna said, realizing who was behind James’s financial scoldings.
James nodded sheepishly. Anna was about to get angry but instead laughed.
“How cheeky! She’s pressuring us to save, then plans to swoop in with ‘Now that you’ve saved enough, time for grandkids’ talk.”
“Yeah, I know,” James admitted. “But how do I prove that to her?”
“You can’t,” Anna shrugged, contemplating her coffee. “James, let’s tell them our plans. Sure, they’ll complain we’re dragging it out, but at least they’ll understand. Maybe they’ll get it with my work plans and all. And even if they don’t, it can’t get worse.”
“Yeah, maybe…” James considered.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. Let’s invite them over for tea and discuss everything as a family. I’ll bake something. Your parents love my shortbread, I can make some.”
“Alright,” James agreed, hugging Anna, kissing her temple as usual. “You’re right—it’s better to talk openly than plan behind their backs.”
