The Mother-in-Law and Her Countryside Plans
The other day, my mother-in-law, Margaret Wilkins, dropped a bombshell that nearly made my jaw hit the floor. Turns out, this summer she’s taking her daughter Natalie’s kids—Emily and Oliver—to her countryside cottage, while our six-year-old, Lucy, is supposedly being *delivered* to us for the *entire* summer! Without so much as a discussion! When my husband, James, and I tried to protest, Margaret just scoffed, “It’s only fair, Sarah! I can’t take *all* the grandchildren!” Fair? Since when do our lives revolve around her royal decrees? I’m still fuming, and if I don’t vent, I swear I’ll explode.
It started a fortnight ago when she rang up and casually announced her “plans.” At first, I didn’t catch her drift. “Sarah, love,” she said, “this year I’m taking Emily and Oliver to the cottage. They’re older, easier to handle. Lucy can stay with you.” I thought she was joking. Lucy *adores* Margaret’s place—the garden, the swings, the nearby stream. Every summer, she’d spend a couple of weeks there, and James and I were chuffed: happy child, peaceful parents. But to just *dump* her on us all season like a parcel? That’s beyond the pale.
I turned to James straight away: “Did you hear what your mother’s decided? Since when does she call the shots?” James, ever the peacekeeper, tried smoothing things over: “Sarah, she just wants time with Natalie’s kids. Lucy will be fine with us.” Fine? Of course she’ll be *fine*, but that’s not the point! Why didn’t Margaret even *ask*? We’ve got jobs, summer plans—we were saving up to take Lucy to Cornwall! Now what? Cancel everything because *she* said so? And that line about “fairness”—as if she’s doing *us* a favour!
I confronted her directly. “Margaret, why didn’t you discuss this? Lucy loves the cottage, and we assumed she’d go, like always.” Her reply? “Sarah, don’t start. Emily and Oliver haven’t been in ages, so they’re coming. Lucy’s *your* child—*you* look after her.” I nearly dropped the phone. *My* child? Since when isn’t Lucy her grandchild? And why do Natalie’s kids get priority? I know Natalie lives closer to the cottage, and Margaret’s always fussed over them more. But to outright favour them? That’s downright brass-necked.
I tried explaining—we’ve got plans, Lucy will be heartbroken—but she cut me off. “Sarah, stop exaggerating. Lucy can manage at home, and I’m not made of elastic!” Elastic? Who asked her to stretch? We never forced Lucy on her; we *arranged* things. Now she’s laying down the law. James, instead of backing me, just shrugged: “Mum knows best, Sarah. Don’t make a scene.” *A scene*? I’m this close to packing Lucy’s bags and driving her there myself—let Margaret try turning her away to her face!
The worst part is Lucy’s excitement. “Mum, when are we going to Gran’s cottage? I want to pick strawberries!” What do I say? That Gran chose the *other* grandchildren? She’s *six*—she won’t understand, just feel hurt. I won’t let my girl think she’s less loved. I even offered a compromise: take all three for a month, and we’d cover the costs. But Margaret dug in: “Sarah, my decision’s final. Don’t interfere.” *Interfere*? Since when am I a stranger in my own child’s life?
I rang Natalie, hoping she’d talk sense into her mum. No luck. “Sarah, Mum’s mind’s made up. Emily and Oliver have been begging to go, and Lucy’s still little—she’ll cope.” *Little*? Lucy’s a year younger than Emily—what’s the difference? Natalie’s clearly pleased her kids come first. Meanwhile, James and I are stuck with Margaret’s “fair” arrangement.
Now I’m weighing options. Do we shrug it off and take Lucy to Cornwall as planned? But it stings that Margaret’s cut her out so easily. Or do I push James to finally stand up to his mother? Fat chance—he hates conflict. “Sarah, she loves Lucy. She’s just being fair.” *Fair*? Favouring one grandchild over another?
I haven’t decided yet. But one thing’s certain: Lucy *won’t* feel second-best. If Margaret thinks she can dish out “fair” rulings, she’s mistaken. We’ll make this summer magical for Lucy—cottage or not. And I’ll remind Margaret she’s got *two* daughters’ children to consider. If she wants to be a proper grandmother, she’d better learn to *discuss*, not dictate. For now, I’m just trying not to combust over this “fairness” nonsense—and figuring out how to explain to Lucy why Gran’s being so bloody peculiar.
