I’m standing in the kitchen, staring at all this chaos, and I can’t believe my eyes. Yesterday was my birthday, and I decided to invite my new husband’s parents over.
Anton and I got married just two months ago—quietly, no fuss, just a quick registry office ceremony. Neither of our parents were there; it was just the two of us. Now we’re living together in my flat, the one I’d been renting before the wedding. But last night… wow, that was something else.
Honestly, I was a bit nervous before they arrived. His parents are down-to-earth but strong-willed. His mum, Margaret, likes to be in control, and his dad, James, is the quiet type—but when he does speak, it’s always spot-on. I tried my best—set the table, bought all the groceries, even baked a cake, though my baking skills are usually hit or miss. Anton kept telling me not to stress, that his parents aren’t picky, but I wanted to make a good impression. First official visit, after all!
They showed up right on time, bearing gifts. Margaret brought a huge bouquet of roses and a box wrapped in shiny paper. James handed over a bottle of homemade wine—said he’d made it himself. We sat down to eat, and at first, everything was fine. I’d made salads, roasted a chicken, and whipped up some potatoes with mushrooms. Anton kept complimenting the food, his parents nodded along, even said nice things. But then… things got interesting.
Turns out, Margaret has a knack for bringing up topics that make me squirm. Out of nowhere, she started asking when we were planning to have kids. I nearly choked on my wine. Anton tried to steer the conversation, but she wouldn’t drop it: “In our day, love, James and I started thinking about family right after the wedding. You’re young—what’s the hold-up?” I just smiled and nodded, but in my head, I was screaming, “We just got married—give us a second to breathe!” Anton looked just as flustered, but he’s never been one to argue with his mum.
Then she moved on to inspecting my kitchen. She stood up, started looking around like an inspector. “Emily, love, why do you have so few plates? You’ll need more if you’re hosting. And these dark curtains—I’d go for something lighter.” I kept my cool, but my cheeks were burning. Anton whispered, “Don’t take it to heart—she’s always like this.” But it’s *my* kitchen! I set it up my way, and now I’m being told the curtains are wrong?
Thankfully, James lightened the mood. He started talking about his allotment, how they’d grown so many cucumbers this summer they didn’t know what to do with them. I listened, nodded, but all I could think was, *Can this dinner just end already?* Then Margaret handed me her gift. I unwrapped the box, and inside… a full china set. The kind with floral patterns, like something from your nan’s house. I thanked her, but all I could think was, *Where am I supposed to put this?* Our cupboards are already packed, and this thing takes up enough space for a royal banquet.
Anton, seeing my panic, tried to joke: “Mum, you know Emily’s more of a takeaway-in-a-box kind of girl.” But Margaret just shot him a look: “Don’t be silly, Anton. A proper home needs proper dinnerware.” I almost laughed out loud. Right then, I realised life with these people was going to be one big adventure.
When they finally left, I let out a huge sigh. Anton hugged me and said, “You did great—better than I expected.” But honestly, I’m still in shock. Now I’m standing here, staring at this china set, the half-eaten chicken, the wine we never finished. And I’m thinking—what does it really mean to be part of a new family? On one hand, I love Anton, and for him, I’ll put up with these moments. On the other… how do I learn not to take these comments to heart? Maybe with time, Margaret and I will find common ground. Or maybe I’ll just learn to keep my distance.
This morning, I woke up thinking I need to talk to Anton. Maybe we’ll agree next time we celebrate just the two of us. Or invite my parents—at least they don’t criticise my curtains. But then again, his parents are part of my life now, like it or not. I’ll have to learn to navigate this. Maybe next time, I’ll just set out that china, pour them some of their own wine, and say, “This one’s for the interior design tips.” Joking. Maybe.
