My son isnt divorcedhe still lives with his girlfriendbut he hasnt the faintest say in anything. Every time I visit, my daughter-in-law insists I promise a certain amount of money before shell let me see my grandson.
They married two years ago. I never warmed to this young lady from the start. There was always something covetous in her eyes and grasping in her hands. No sooner had the ink dried on her marriage certificate than she began insisting I needed to move house and hand half my flat over to them, all because, according to her, its shameful for a grown man to have no home of his own.
Of course, this led to more than one row between us. For one, Ive a daughter as welland why on earth should I change my own living arrangements at her insistence? My children both received good upbringings and were given a proper start. The rest, as I see it, they should accomplish themselves, just as my late husband and I had to.
My daughter, still unmarried, works and has taken out a mortgage. At one point, she lived with me while she let her flat out to make paying it easier, though now shes settled on her own. My son, on the other hand, is utterly henpecked. He doesnt ask for anything, just hangs on his wifes every word. Of course, he doesnt want to live with me, especially since shes made it clear he shouldnt. According to her, its beneath her dignity to share.
Truth be told, the idea of us all living together didnt appeal to me either, but Id have been willing for his sake, so they could save up for a deposit. Still, I never planned to sell my flat or hand any of it over. If something were to happen to me, the children would inherit half each and do as they pleased.
I made all of this perfectly clear to my daughter-in-lawwithout mincing words. Who does she think she is, brazenly telling me, Dont you think its greedy to live alone in a three-bedroom flat? Can you imagine? I pleaded with my son to stand up to her, but all he did was mumble uselessly.
Sometimes I wonder if hes really my son at all. My own father was a stern man, Im no wilting violet, and my sisters tough as nails too. But my sonhes as soft as butter. Honestly, I dont know how he managed to get married, unless she simply decided to have him and that was that.
After our bust-up over the flat, we didnt speak for a while. My son would call now and then but never visit; clearly, she had forbidden it. Over the phone one day, I found out I was to be a grandmother for the first time. I was over the moon and wanted to reconcile, so I bought gifts and a cake, and dropped by, hoping for a fresh start. Instead, she started in again about how her child would be born in someone elses home, like a squatter. The subject of the flat surfaced yet again.
I didnt argue with a pregnant womanI just left. Sometimes, you have to accept that some people never change. I kept my distance for the rest of her pregnancy, partly because my own health hit a rough patch. When the baby came, I wasnt even told; my son phoned a week later, almost as an afterthought.
He invited me round, and as soon as I arrived, my daughter-in-law snatched the envelope Id brought. She looked disdainfully at it, as though ten thousand pounds was paltry. She said little, but her dissatisfaction was plain to see. My grandson was a little darling, the very image of his father. I didnt overstay, and that was the last invitation I received from them. I didnt force myself to visit either; new babies take adjusting to. But when three months passed and no word came, I called my son and suggested a visit.
I bought toys for my grandson and a cake for tea, set off, and was met at the door by his wife. She accepted the gifts, stared me up and down, and frowned.
To be honest, I thought last time made things clear. We dont want your charity, just cash for the child.
So every time I visit my grandson, I must bring an envelope?
What do you expect? she shot back. Thanks to you, were stuck renting. My husbands the only one working. Youve done nothing for my son, so you could at least provide for your grandchild.
Her words were like a slap. My son just stood there silently, baby in arms, eyes downcast.
I simply turned and left. I wont let anyone blackmail me into paying for my own grandchilds affection.
We havent spoken in almost a year. Neither side calls or visits. Just last week, though, my son finally rang, reminded me it was my grandsons birthday and that I could attendprovided, of course, I didnt forget the present. His wife then grabbed the phone, demanding I bring cash equal to my monthly pension. I didnt go; I couldnt afford it. In the end, I had to accept the painful truth: I no longer had a grandsonor a son, for that matter. If I really had a son, hed never allow his wife to hold access to his own mother hostage.
Let them stew in their own mess. I refuse to pay for the privilege of seeing my grandson.
Now, Im also considering what to do with my flatmaking sure that, even after Im gone, neither my soft-hearted son nor his money-grabbing wife will be able to take so much as a brick of it.
Sometimes, life forces you to draw boundaries even with those you love. Respect, once given freely, should be returned with kindness, not treated as a business transaction.
