When my husband and I were skint, my mother-in-law bought herself a fur coat, a brand new telly, and swanned around like she lived at Buckingham Palace.
But years later, the tables turned!
At eighteen, I found myself pregnant. My parents offered about as much support as a chocolate teapot, certain it was far too soon for a baby. Meanwhile, my husband had just joined the army. The grandmothers on both sides were a harmonious duet:
The babys your responsibility.
My hands are full, I won’t be looking after your little one, Mum told me with all the warmth of an English winter.
And as for my mother-in-lawshe simply refused to speak to me at all.
I ended up moving in with my dads sister.
She was thirty-eight, child-free, and had dedicated her entire existence to her job. She didnt have a mean word about my mum or dad:
I get itthings werent sunflower fields when you were born. They put in the graft. There were times you didnt even have a meal. Your dad was working nights unloading lorries, just to keep the lights on.
But now theyre comfy enough. Dads on a decent wage, got a two-bedroom flat. Mums got work too. And here I am, about to have a baby myself.
Do they really not care? I asked my aunt.
Theyre just focused on themselves these days. Dont judge them too harshly. Give it time, their heads might come around.
Not that help ever materialised. I packed up my bits and moved in with Aunt Lizzy.
When my husband returned from the army, our son was already toddling about. In all that time, my mother-in-law never once popped round to see her grandson. My parents made precisely two token visits.
My husband started working as a car mechanic, hoping he could somehow juggle night courses butsurprise, surpriseit didnt happen. We kept living at Aunt Lizzys place. When our boy started nursery and I landed a job, Aunt Lizzy had to relocate for work. That meant another movethis time to a grotty rented flat.
Some time later, my husbands grandma died.
My mother-in-law promptly sold off Grans flat, spent the lot on luxury and redecorating, and bought herself anything her heart fancied. My husband tried convincing her not to flog the place; even offered to pay her monthly to buy it back eventually, but she wouldnt budge.
Why on earth should I sacrifice my life for you lot? Ive wanted to refurbish for years. You want the flatdo it yourself! she scoffed, snapping the end of her prosecco with a flourish.
Fast forward five years, and our daughter was born. Now we really needed a place of our own. My husband went off to work in Germanyturns out, saving for a deposit is about as slow as British Rail. So I soldiered on with the kids in rented flats.
Meanwhile, my mum rattled around in her own three-bedroom flat. My father had left her two years before, but she saidquite seriouslythere was no room for me and the kids. Moving in with my mother-in-law wasn’t an option either; she was forever mid-renovation and had no inkling to lend a hand.
Eventually, with my husband grafting abroad for years, we scrounged up the funds and finally bought ourselves a flat. All on our own. No handouts.
These days, our eldest is wrapping up year nine, and our girl is in year four. Blimey, do they understand the value of money! We pinched every penny, and now the struggle is behind us. We each have a car, and once a year, we jet off to the seaside for a breather.
The only person were truly grateful to is Aunt Lizzy. She could ring us at 3 a.m. for help and wed be there before the kettle boiled.
Our own parents, however, have both fallen on tough times. Mum was made redundant, rang me just recently for a bit of help, and Iwell, politely declined.
My mother-in-laws in a similar pickle. Shes retired and refuses to tighten the belt. She blew all her cash from selling Grans flat yonks ago. My husband turned her down when she asked for support, told her it might be time to sell the designer-renovated flat and buy a cosy one-bed.
We dont owe anyone anything. Our kids will never feel as neglected as we did growing up. Well always help themno questions asked. And I think, fingers crossed, theyll help us out if were ever the ones eating beans on toast in our twilight years.
