She Got My Mother-in-Law Back on Her Feet—But I’m Furious Because I Didn’t Weed the Garden Beds “What are you doing here?” shouted my mother-in-law, standing in the middle of the swan-shaped flowerbeds. “Such shame has never happened here before. I never had to hide behind my children—I raised seven, and not a single weed!” Her shouting had already attracted the neighbours. Clinging to the fence like crows, they wasted no time gossiping about everything they’d heard. With an audience, my mother-in-law only grew more theatrical. She went on and on while I stood there speechless. Finally, exhausted from her own drama, she took a deep breath and declared loudly enough for every neighbour to hear: I didn’t say a word. I walked past my mother-in-law calmly, tightening my hold on the child in my arms. Once inside, I packed everything she and I would need for that evening and the morning after, methodically separating the items in a special box. Without a second thought, I tossed my son’s things and my own into a bag and left, saying nothing to her. Three days later, my mother-in-law called: “What did you do with all those things the professor gave her? I asked the neighbour to buy a few, but she said one jar was very expensive, and we don’t touch the ones labelled in foreign languages. So what am I supposed to do? You stormed off upset about something, and now here I am, left to meet my maker?” I didn’t answer. I turned off my phone and removed the SIM card. That was it; I simply couldn’t go any further—I was out of physical and mental strength. A year ago, just before my son was born, my husband lost control of the car on an icy road. My memory of the days is a blur: saying goodbye to him, the ambulance taking him away, and then the next morning, I became a mother. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Without my beloved husband, everything around me seemed unnecessary and meaningless. I nursed and rocked my baby in a daze, simply because I was told to. Then the phone rang. “Your mother-in-law isn’t well. She may not live long after her son.” I made my decision instantly. After checking out of the hospital, I immediately sold our flat in London. I invested part of the money into building a new home so my son would have something for his future. And then I went to care for my mother-in-law. That year, I didn’t live—I simply existed. I barely slept, looking after both my mother-in-law and my infant son. The baby was restless, and my mother-in-law needed my constant attention. Thankfully, I had money. I called the best specialists from across the UK to come and see her. I bought every medication prescribed, and slowly, my mother-in-law returned to normal life. First, I wheeled her around the house, then the garden. By the end, she was strong enough to walk on her own—and then… I no longer want to see or hear from her again. Let her figure out her recovery herself. At least I was wise enough not to spend all my money on her. My son and I moved into a new home. I never imagined it would end up like this. I wanted to share my life with my husband’s mother, since I’m an orphan myself. But now, it’s just me. I need to teach my son: not everyone deserves kindness. Some people care more about tidy vegetable patches than about the people who save their lives.

She woke the whole neighbourhood with her fuss about the garden beds, but I was fuming, for I hadnt weeded them.

What on earth do you think you’re doing? my mother-in-law bellowed, standing smack in the middle of the lily beds with her arms flailing. Never in all my days has there been such disgrace! I managed seven childrenseven!and youd never have found a single weed in my borders!

Her shriek drew the neighbours at once. They flocked to the fence like a murder of crows, whispering and muttering about every word theyd heard. My mother-in-law, seeing her audience, blossomed. She went on and on, speaking as if the Queen herself might hear, and I stood frozen, unable to form a reply. At last, when shed tired herself with shouting, she drew a mighty breath and declared, loud enough for all to hear:

I said not a word.

I walked quietly past her, hugging my little girl tighter to my chest, and went inside. Once there, I went to the wardrobe and began sorting everything my mother-in-law had left to take that night and morning. Without folding, I jammed my girls clothes and mine into my bag. I left, never speaking a word to her.

Three days later, she telephoned:

What have you done with all those things the doctor gave me? she demanded. I asked Mrs Cartwright to buy a bit more, but she said one jars dreadfully dear, and the ones with foreign writingshe won’t touch them, says nobody will buy or swap anything of the sort! So, what am I meant to do? Youve up and left, for who-knows-what-reason, and I suppose Im to meet my maker now?

Still, I said nothing. I switched off my phone and pulled out the SIM card. That was that. I could go no further. There wasnt an ounce of strengthbody or mindleft in me.

It had been nearly a year since, right before my baby girl was born, my husband lost control of the car on a rainy road. I recall dimly the funeral, the clatter of the ambulance carting him away; and the very next morning, I became a mother. I cared for my baby like a clockwork dollfeeding, rocking, because someone had to.

It was a telephone call that snapped me from my stunned state.

Your mother-in-laws not at all well. They say she wont last long after her son.

I decided at once. I checked myself out of the flat in London, sold it before the ink was dry, and put much of the money towards building a new place so my little girl would always have a home. And then, I threw myself into rescuing my mother-in-law.

That year, I barely lived; I simply endured.

Sleep was a luxury I couldnt afford, as I cared for both a fretful baby and my husbands ailing mother. There were endless nightscolic and cries at one end, medicine and watches at the other.

I was lucky, I suppose: I had enough saved. I called in the best specialists across England to see her, paid handsomely for every prescription. Slowly, she improved. At first, I wheeled her around her bedroom; then, along the garden path; before the years end, she was striding on her own againuntil

I want nothing more to do with her now. Let her manage her own affairs and find her health as she pleases. Im grateful, at least, that Id the sense not to exhaust my every penny. My girl and I moved elsewhereinto our new little place. Never had I imagined things would turn out thus.

I wanted a proper family life with my husbands mother; heaven knows, I grew up an orphan myself. Now, its just me. And Ill teach my daughter this much: not everyone is worthy of good treatment. Some folk are more troubled by a bit of earth in the vegetable patch than a heart in want of kindness.