My mother-in-law is incredibly protective of her son. Honestly, every single day during the holidays, my husband pops round to hers for lunch. Shes always texting him, checking in. Whenever anything goes slightly wrong, hes straight off to his mum for advice. If he needs a bit of extra cash, you can bet shes the first person he asks.
Well, today I get home from work and whos in our living room? His mum, suitcase in tow, filled to the brim with bits and bobs, and loads of books.
“Evening, Margaret!” I say, trying to smile. “Whats with the suitcase?”
“Ive decided Ill stay over for a week,” she replies, cool as you like. “Ill help out around the house, with the little one, and with Tom. After all, my son needs feeding. You dont always have time for everything, do you love? You work so hard!” She never fails to remind me.
Lets just say, Margaret is formidable. Theres no winning an argument with her, so I dont even tryI just head off to chat with Tom, my husband. But his reaction truly stuns me!
“Hang on, your mums staying with us for a whole week? She didnt even ask us first! Apparently, I cant manage the house properly,” I say, still a bit bewildered.
Tom shrugs, unfazed. “Im fine with it. Why can your mum come stay, but mine cant? Is there something wrong with my mum? When your mum stayed for a week, did I complain?” he asks, looking almost offended.
“Tom, for goodness sake… My mum lives in Manchester, we see her once or twice a year if were lucky. I wouldnt shove her off to a hotel, obviously! Your mum, though, lives down the road and pops in almost every day!” I reply, getting frustrated.
Truth is, I really dont want Margaret having free run of our house when Im not there. I just picture her poking around in our cupboards and drawers and tidying things that dont need tidying.
Toms used to his mum fussing over him like thisits been his normal for years. Hes got grey hairs now, but she still scuttles about, brings him soup, and wipes his nose if she could. This is one of those endless circleswe cant escape talking about it. It bugs me that Tom hasnt cut the apron strings yet. And his mum seems annoyed that I dont treat him like a helpless child, always handing out advice on how I ought to keep the house, look after the baby, and take care of her precious boy.
When we first got married, Margaret was round every day, washing Toms socks and waiting for him to walk in so she could put dinner on the table. I honestly couldnt stand it after a while. I had a word with Tom, he spoke to her, and she finally cut down to just a couple of visits a week. Then, once our little boy was born, she upped her visits again.
So now Ive got to decideI told Tom if this carries on, Ill rent myself a flat and move out. I cant live with my mother-in-law calling all the shots. If shes staying, Im off.
“She only wants to help!” Tom says, sounding pretty hurt.
“And do I need that kind of help, Tom?” I ask right back. Honestly, sometimes I wonder whose house this is.
