“Stop spending so much!”
Emma sighed. Nearly every recent conversation with her husband had started with some variation of that exclamation, whenever she showed off any of her new purchases. Lately, she had stopped flaunting her new sweater, shoes, or handbag in front of Tom altogether. But of course, Tom couldn’t miss the additions to her wardrobe and always found something to argue about.
In truth, Emma couldn’t be blamed. She earned just as much as her husband, and they equally contributed to the household budget. No matter how hard he tried, Tom couldn’t claim he was supporting her or spending more on shared expenses. Yet for some reason, every new thing Emma bought for herself lately seemed to irritate him.
Emma couldn’t understand why this was happening. Their family was financially sound: the mortgage was being paid off without a hitch, they could afford a good summer holiday, and there was plenty left over for small indulgences like new clothes. But suddenly, Tom had turned into a penny-pincher. Emma pondered the reason behind this change. She and Tom had been together for years—meeting during their first year in college, where a mutual attraction had grown into a strong attachment and then into love. They married right after graduation and had been happily married for five years until now.
Tom worked in a law firm, making strides in civil law, with hopes of becoming a partner one day. Emma managed the accounts at a large real estate agency. Their work schedules didn’t allow for thoughts of starting a family yet, although they were both twenty-nine and facing constant hints from their parents about having children.
“Emma, don’t delay,” her mother Mary often said, a slender, active woman. “Having kids later can be risky—they might have health problems.”
Mary herself had given birth to Emma at thirty-three, and Emma regularly reminded her of this, pointing out her good health. Yet her mother would just shrug and say, “I was lucky. But don’t push your luck! Fate can be unpredictable.” She’d usually cross her fingers superstitiously or knock on wood. Emma would just sigh inwardly, knowing there was no convincing her mom otherwise.
Tom’s parents were just as insistent, constantly urging their son to give them grandchildren—preferably two or even three.
“You’ve got it all,” Tom’s father would start, “a house, a car, stable jobs. You’ve got money. Let Emma stay home and have kids! Women are made for that.”
“Oh, cut it out!” his wife would chime in, feigning protest. “Women can do so much more! But really, Tom, why not hurry up? We do want to spoil some grandkids!”
Time passed, and both Emma and Tom began to accept these conversations as unavoidable. But their parents didn’t let up, moving from gentle urging to more forceful tactics.
Emma’s mom, usually lively and active, suddenly became “ill.” She gave up her beloved Nordic walking and swimming, and at every visit would complain about how tiring even housework had become. Mary’s husband remained quiet unless she asked for his agreement, then he’d nod in silence and turn away, seeming reluctant to engage in the conversation.
Emma understood it was all a ruse, a manipulation. Besides slightly high blood pressure, her mother had no major health issues. Mary was incredibly fit, having been an athlete in her youth, winning local competitions. Even in her sixties, she had maintained her fitness. Emma couldn’t recall her mom ever being sick, apart from the occasional mild cold.
So the talk of poor health was deceitful. Emma could see her mom was in good spirits, enjoying her favorite treats and meals. When Emma visited, there was always a homemade meat pie and a complex soup ready, dishes that a truly sick woman couldn’t prepare.
When Emma complained to Tom about her mom’s clumsy manipulations, he just chuckled.
“Bet she says she’ll die soon and won’t get to spoil any grandkids, right?” He’d wrap an arm around Emma’s shoulders and kiss her temple. “Don’t sweat it, Em. They’re just in a hurry. But we’ve already decided, haven’t we?”
The couple indeed had a plan. Emma would work another year to secure her career and leave with enough experience to find an equivalent job after maternity leave. She’d focus on her health, avail herself of medical check-ups she currently didn’t have time for, and then they’d have a child. Maybe more than one.
But they weren’t ready to share their plans with their parents yet. The older generation would surely criticize them for dragging their feet, and neither Emma nor Tom wanted to heat things up any more than they already were. So for now, talks about future children were kept between them.
Everything was going reasonably well, except for Mary’s complaints about her declining health, until recently when Tom began criticizing Emma’s spending for no reason.
Emma couldn’t figure it out for a while. Then she sat down and reviewed her expenses in her banking app. Perhaps she was inadvertently spending more on herself and Tom, being the responsible husband and man of the house, was just trying to warn her?
However, her expense analysis showed they were at the same level as before. Emma put the phone down and thought. There was no real reason for criticism. Maybe Tom was having trouble at work and frightened by potential financial strain?
Emma decided to discuss it with Tom. One weekend, as they settled on the couch with their coffee, she raised her suspicions.
Tom shook his head, setting his unfinished coffee aside.
“No, Emma, everything’s fine at work. Really. Don’t worry about that—I’d never keep such things from you.”
“Then what’s going on?” Emma asked directly. “I analyzed my expenses—they haven’t increased,” she added, showing him the graphs on the banking app.
Tom flipped through the graphs, frowning.
“You even spent less last month, see? What gives?”
“It’s my mom,” Tom finally admitted reluctantly. “She’s been nagging me—saying we need to save for a child, not spend so much on ourselves…”
“So, it’s her?” Emma said slowly, beginning to understand who was behind Tom’s critiques. “Your mom’s counting my money?”
Tom nodded, looking guilty. Emma almost wanted to be angry, but instead, she laughed.
“She’s sneaky! You realize this is just her way of pressuring us? First get me to save, then start talking about how we’ve got enough savings and should have kids.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Tom admitted reluctantly. “But how do I prove it to her?”
“You don’t, really,” Emma shrugged. She contemplated the remnants of her coffee. “Tom, why don’t we just tell them our plans? Sure, they’ll shout about the wait, but we could explain. The job experience and all. Maybe they’ll understand. And if not, it couldn’t get worse.”
“Maybe…” Tom said, drawing it out.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday, let’s invite them for tea and discuss it as a family. I’ll bake something. Your parents like my shortbread cookies, I could make those.”
“Okay,” Tom agreed, wrapping his arms around Emma and, as always, kissing her temple. “You’re right, it’s better to discuss things openly than to make secret plans.”
