I was boiling over with fury! Today, I had another spat with my mother, and my husbands parent wont even pick up the phone. In truth, were supposed to be lucky, since weve got two grandmothersmine and my mums wife.
But lucky is far too generous a word, for the grandmothers are more a notion than true people. Both live a stones throw from our sons nursery, not even a hundred yards away, yet neither will collect himnot for love nor money. Id fetch him myself, but my workday doesnt end til nine at night, so I cant make it in time. My husbands no better off; hes at shifts in the biscuit factory, coming and going at odd hours. Most folk in our town work the factory floor, and to accommodate their odd hours, theres a late nursery group that holds the children til ten oclock. Only, youve got to pay extraa hearty sum in pounds and penceand its a whopper of an expense that eats right into our family purse. And this, with grandmothers still alive!
My mum finishes at six in the evening, and she strolls right past the nursery each day on the way home. Her own life is the centre of her universe now; she divorced my step-dad and says shes living for herself. She insists she needs quiet after work and must do her facial masks to look years younger. Every weekend is filled to the brimone evening its the cinema, next an art gallery, the next meeting up with her band of friends.
Shell very rarely take her grandson with her, and only ever on weekends. She reckons he disrupts her rituals, bounding through the flat, spoiling her Zen-like meditations. My mothers a fountain of advice on raising children, though she adamantly refuses any hand in the actual raising.
As for my husbands parentwell, thats a chapter all its own. My mother-in-laws never done a days work, always the lady of the house. Four children, each barely three years apart. My husbands the eldest. Youd think shed be the perfect help with the grandson, but no. She says shes spent her time playing with her own brood and now shes swamped with chores and has neither the time nor energy for our son: cooking, cleaning, washing, greeting the whole gang at the end of their workdays, feeding everyone, tidying up after them, and settling them to bed. And this, even though her youngest boyseighteen and twenty-oneare fully capable young men, able to look after themselves.
Just once, my mother-in-law took our son from the nursery. After, she was fit to be tied, claiming that even the sky was too warm, she hadnt managed a single task while looking after her grandson, and her men returned from work exhausted and ravenous. She told me outrightI gave birth for myself, not for her, so Ive got to look after my own child and fetch him myself. And she made it clear we were never to expect her help again.
Sometimes, weve had a sliver of luck. My partners friend, who adored sleep, would do the late nursery run, while I did the early. Then the friend departed, replaced by an aunt whod sooner do anything but the evening shift, landing us back in the same pickleforking out triple for nursery fees. It drains our budget to the bone. Im bitter at the grandmothers hypocrisythey show up at every birthday, cooing over how much they love the boy, boasting about who bought the fancier gift. Yet we dont need their presents; we need their real help.
So today, I had no choice but to ring my mother and beg her to pick up my son, because weve not got the spare quid for the late group. Theres nothing to expect from our parents, not money, nor actual help. My mother-in-law refuses a penny, saying her boys eat enough to feed an army and all her cash goes on groceries. I cant even imagine a way out of the mess. Every penny my husband and I scrape together is spent on food, clothes, and bills; then we have to double up on nursery fees. How can we possibly reach our grandmothers so theyll truly help us, and not just try to buy us off with gifts?
