My brother, Simon, has been married for six years, and in all that time, neither I nor our parents have ever set foot inside his home. Every holiday, birthday, or family gathering inevitably lands at Mum and Dads spacious house on the outskirts of Manchester. Mum cooks mountains of food, sets the table, and still packs tupperware boxes full of homemade meat pies and salads for Simon and his wife, Poppy, to take home.
When Simon was newly married, Poppys birthday rolled around a few months later. Mum, ever the enthusiast, decided to organise a surprise: we bought a cake, picked out a lovely gift, and planned to drop by. Mum rang Poppy to give her a heads-up, but Poppy coolly replied that she wasnt planning to celebrate. Mum, never one to take no for an answer, insisted, *”Well just pop in for a cuppa and a slice of cake! You dont have to lift a finger, love!”*
We went anyway. But instead of a warm welcome, we were met with pure awkwardness: Poppy came out to the street, muttering something about the flat being *”a mess,”* and refused to let us step inside. Bemused, we handed over the cake and present right there on the doorstep and drove home. Since then, Mum has hosted every gathering, and weve all tried to forget that cringeworthy moment.
Poppy once told my parents bluntly, *”Youve got a big houseplenty of space for guests! We live in a one-bed flathow are we supposed to host everyone?”*
I had to bite my tongue to keep from snapping back. Is it really impossible to welcome your in-laws and your husbands sister in a small flat? Its not like were an invading hordejust three people! But we stayed quiet, for the sake of peace.
Now, Poppy is five months pregnantthe first grandchild for my parents, and Mum is over the moon. She calls Simon constantly, asking how Poppy is, if she needs anything. Then we found out Poppy quit her job at the start of the pregnancy. Mum panicked: *”Is she unwell? Does she need my help?”*
Simon reassured herPoppy was fine, she just wanted to *”take it easy.”* We were baffled. Simon and Poppy had always lived large: fancy restaurants, holidays abroad, designer clothes. Theyve no mortgagethe flat was inherited from Poppys granso theyd blown their money on luxuries. But now, with Poppy not working, their income had plummeted, and their lavish lifestyle was on thin ice. Simon tried to explain they needed to budget, but Poppy seemed unwilling to give up her treats.
She admitted to Simon shed quit out of fear of *”catching something at work.”* Understandable, but now their finances were stretched, and she still expected the same luxuries. Then, in the middle of all this, Simon suddenly invited us overfor his birthday! We were stunned. Dad even joked, *”Will we finally find out if my daughter-in-law can boil an egg?”*
Mum was delighted and looked forward to a cosy evening. I rang Poppy to sort the details, but instead of a normal chat, I got a full-blown meltdown. She sobbed into the phone, insisting she didnt want us there: *”Ill have to clean the flat, cook a meal! Im pregnantits too much!”*
I tried to calm her: *”Pops, it doesnt have to be fancy. Roast some potatoes, toss a salad, pop a chicken in the ovendone. Well bring dessert. Its just five of us. Whats the issue?”*
I even offered to order takeaway to spare her the effort. But Poppy kept whinging about *still* having to mop and tidy. My patience snapped: *”Pops, its a one-bed flat! Is scrubbing the floor really an Olympic event? Do you only clean when guests come?”*
In the end, I laid it out: *”If you really dont want us there, we wont come. Well ring Simon, wish him happy birthday, and leave it at that.”*
Mum agreed when I told her. But when we explained it to Simon, he exploded: *”Poppy doesnt workshe sits at home all day! Cant she manage one meal and a bit of hoovering? Youre coming, end of! We cant afford takeaway or a cleaner, so shell have to bloody well do it herself!”*
His words hung in the air like a storm cloud. Soon, we were all arguing. Any excitement about Simons birthday had evaporated. The thought of sitting through an evening of Poppys dramatic sighs and eye-rollswell, it didnt sound like much of a celebration. We didnt want to feel like unwelcome guests in our own brother and sons home.
But it breaks our hearts to hurt Simon. Hes so excited to finally have us all together! How can we just refuse? Its his day, and its not his fault his wifes in a strop. Now were stuck: grit our teeth and go (risking a miserable evening) or cancel (and break his heart). Theres no good answer, and the clocks ticking. What do you do when love for your brother crashes headfirst into dislike for his wife? No cluebut weve got to decide soon.
