**Diary Entry**
I want my son to get a divorce. Why on earth does he need such a thoughtless wife?
Theres a stereotype that mothers-in-law are wicked witches who torment their poor, helpless daughters-in-law for no reason. Scroll through any online forum, and youll find endless stories like that. And here I amthe so-called “evil mother-in-law,” not just nitpicking but dead set on breaking up my sons marriage. And you what? Im not ashamed. I *know* Im right, and Ill explain why, even as anger and heartache for my boy seethe inside me.
My son, Oliver, met this girl, Gemma, about five years ago. But he only introduced her to me *after* proposing. From the first moment, I disliked her, and as it turned out, my gut was spot onshe was an absolute nightmare.
I invited them over to our cosy home in the outskirts of Manchester. Gemma hadnt even taken her shoes off when her phone rang. Instead of excusing herself, she stood in the hallway giggling with a friend for fifteen minutes. I gritted my teeth while she prattled on about nonsense. Right then, I knew something was off.
At dinner, I didnt grill herjust listened. But when the conversation turned to her life and plans, the truth came out. She barely scraped through school, was in her last year of college, and had no intention of university. Why bother? According to her, a womans place was as a wife and motherfull stop. She had no plans to work, either. Her parents supported her now, but soon, that burden would fall on Oliver. She still lived at home but planned to move into *our* flat after the wedding. And the cherry on top? She was pregnant. Early days, so they had to rush the wedding before the bump gave her away. The way she carried herself, youd think the world owed her everything, as if her looks were a free pass to an easy life.
But the worst moment came when Oliver stepped out for a smoke. Gemma pulled out a pack of slim cigarettes and followed him. *Pregnantand smoking!* I nearly choked on my outrage. Did she even care about the baby?
They married soon after, and we all lived together. Id leave for work at dawn and return to chaos: dishes piled high, clothes strewn about, the fridge empty. She slept till noon, lounged around, and sneaked out for smoke breaks. Shed taken a leave from college, citing pregnancy. Every evening, shed be glued to her phone, yammering to her mum or mates. When I asked for help, shed wave me offmorning sickness, exhaustion. Yet she still dragged Oliver to clubs or cafés with friends till all hours. I bit my tongue for him.
Then our grandson arrived. And Gemma? Didnt lift a finger. Oliver took night feeds, pushed the pram, handled doctor visits. I helped evenings and weekends, exhausted from work. And her? Sprawled on the sofa, scrolling, smoking, like nothing had changed. It made my blood boil.
I tried reasoningfirst gently, then firmly. Shed smirk and tune me out. Worse, Oliver always defended her. “Mum, shes tryingits just hard for her,” hed say, shutting me down. We argued. Hed shout at *me* but never breathe a word against her. My boymy only sonblinded by love for this useless girl.
The tension became unbearable. One day, I snapped: “Take your wife and child and get out! See how you manage on your own!” They left. Oliver cut me off. I tried to make him see the truth, but he shut me out. Now, he barely calls or visits. Im certain Gemmas poisoning him against me, driving a wedge between us. And yet, I love him more than life itself, and I adore my grandson with all my heart.
Ive made up my mind: Oliver doesnt need a wife like this. He deserves bettersomeone smart, caring, not this lazy, selfish girl. He might not see it yet, but I wont stop until this marriage collapses. Ill free him from her grip. One day, hell understand. Hell hug me and say, “Thank you, Mum.” And well raise that boy rightwithout her shadow, her neglect, or her smoke filling the air. This is my fight for my sons happiness, and I wont back down.
