My mother-in-law is an absolute lady In fact, I could have wrapped up this whole saga with those words alone, as I’ve managed to pack all my sorrow into that sentence, but for the sake of clarity (and a bit of comedy), Ill carry on. Every evening Id come home from work and collapse right onto the sofa, bones and spirit equally weary. Now, just picture how thrilled I must have been, in those moments, to cook up a gourmet meal for my fiancé. One evening, I walked through the door only to overhear my husband on the phone. Apparently, it was just getting started:
Hi, Mum yes, yes no, we havent eaten yet! Shes just got in, shell whip something up whenever she feels inspired. Yes, of course Im hungry, I only had a bit of toast for breakfast. But hunger’s not the end of the world, Mum, Ill manage. So is that an invitation?
Fury isnt quite strong enough a word for what I felt; I stood there fists clenched, silent as a condemned man. He, meanwhile, hung up, beamed at me with the innocence of a golden retriever, and practically skipped around the room: Mums inviting us for dinner! He then began listing all the dishes his mother used to rustle up, as though reading off a Michelin menu. I so wanted to give a heartfelt speech on the joys of having a mother-in-law who never doubted my cooking potential. For pudding, I planned a heartfelt soliloquy titled “Why Not Eat Right Before Bed?” Alas I powdered my nose, mustered up a smile, and off to dinner we went.
That, as they say, was the final straw. We parted ways soon after. These days Im married again. Both of us slog away all day and come home knackered, so now we take turns cooking supper. Miraculously, its led to peace, quiet, and the kind of domestic bliss you only read about in John Lewis catalogues.
