As I was an only child, when I married, my husband and I moved in with my parents. In those early days, our life together was peaceful and content. There were no quarrels; we each pitched in with household chores as time allowed. It was a simple agreement: whoever was free would see to what needed doing, be it the housework or the laundry. My mother and I never bickered over trifles. If I prepared supper, she would wash up; if I tidied the house, she would watch the children. Our responsibilities were shared depending on who was available.
Everything changed, though, when my parents entered retirement.
Their retirement marked a real turning point. They withdrew from work completely. My father now spends his days in the back garden, playing chess with his friends, while my mother pours herself into tending to her roses and primroses, carefully weeding and planting from dawn till dusk.
However, at home, my mother no longer lifts a finger, not even for the basicsdishes left from breakfast linger all day, untouched. After a long day at work, I return home to a kitchen full of unwashed plates, no dinner to greet us, a fridge as bare as Old Mother Hubbards cupboard, and the house looking as though the wind had blown through it. It leaves me utterly dispirited, standing there, not sure where even to begin. Couldnt she at least manage to do the washing up? I work, too, and I grow weary like anyone else. If my in-laws behaved like this, I daresay it wouldnt shame me so. I suppose, perhaps, she sees me as less than family now, and my tiredness means nothing to her.
I did try to speak to my mother about it, but she replied with a huffy indifference, declaring that shed done her duty already, and that if something needs doing, the person who notices it should do it. That ended the discussion, cold and abrupt.
The more I reflect, the more I find myself crestfallen by their behaviour. I, too, am only human and feel exhaustion keenly. I simply cannot understand how they pass the hours at home and do nothing at all. Im at a loss. Should I try once more to reason with my mother, or perhaps consider moving out? Perhaps, if we found another place, they could live as they please, and my husband and I could finally arrange our lives to better suit our needs.
