I was just 22 when I found myself alone, sans husband, with little David clinging to my arm. My son was barely two at the time. My husband packed his bags and left, citing his exhaustion from endless worriesapparently, earning money and spending it on his family was an intolerable burden.
Frankly, he much preferred splashing cash on himself and his mistress. Whatever sort of husband he was, I must admit, it was a relief when he went. Suddenly, everything rested on my shoulders. I sent David off to nursery and marched myself straight to work. I recall being so knackered some evenings that my legs felt numb, but I always kept the house tidy, meals cooked, and the child clean and fed.
My mum always taught me thats how things should be, and lets be honest, our generation could stomach just about anything. Ill also confess, I did rather spoil my boy. At 27, David couldn’t fry an egg, let alone roast a potato. Recently married, though, I thought at last hed got himself a wife to fuss over himId finally have time for my crafts, maybe even tackle another job, and generally live in blessed peace. But that was wishful thinking.
David came home one day and informed me that he and his new wife would be staying with me for a bit. Well, I wasnt exactly thrilled, but agreedwhats a mother to do? His wife would surely cook, sort his laundry, and Id patiently muddle through for a while. Ha! Not quite. Kate was a force of natureunfortunately, not the helpful kind. She never cleared the table, never washed up, never did the laundry (not for herself, not for David), and never so much as swished a broom around the room. In short: she did bugger all.
Three months I played caretaker to three adults. Did I need this? What did Kate do, exactly? Since David decided hed be the breadwinner, Kate didnt work anywhereher days were spent either gallivanting around town with mates or glued to her phone until David dragged himself back from the office and I returned home from work. My house was a tip: stuff everywhere, fridge empty, nothing cooked. I had to dash round Tesco on the way home, whip up dinner, then wash dishes. Kate didn’t have an ounce of shame. She managed to saunter over while I was washing up, handing me a plate she’d hoarded in her room for days. She’d forgottenthe plate was practically a science experiment, crawling with things Id rather not name.
Next time she brought me a plate, I told her outright: if she had any decency, shed wash up once in her life.
And what do you think? Did she apologise and do the dishes? Not a chance. The next day, with plenty of drama, she and David stormed off and rented their own flat. David even accused me of trying to destroy his happy family. Over what? Asking his wife to wash a single plate? Well, thank heavensIll finally live in peace and cleanliness, without cleaning up after anyone. Honestly, these young people nowadays are utterly hopeless. Completely useless, if you ask me.
