I want to see my son divorced. Why should he be stuck with such a brainless wife?
Theres a stereotype that mothers-in-law are wicked witches who torment their poor, helpless daughters-in-law for no reason. Browse any online forumyoull find plenty of those stories. And here I am, the so-called “evil mother-in-law,” not just nitpicking but dead set on breaking up my sons marriage. And you know what? Im not ashamed. I know Im right, and Ill explain why, even as anger and heartache boil inside me for my boy.
My son, James, met this girl, Emily, about five years ago. But he only introduced her to me much laterafter hed already proposed. I took an instant dislike to her, and as it turned out, my gut was spot onshe was an absolute nightmare.
I invited them over to my cosy flat in the outskirts of Manchester. Emily hadnt even taken her shoes off when her phone rang. Instead of apologising and saying shed call back, she started nattering away to her mate right there in the hallway. Fifteen minutes! I stood there, gritting my teeth, while she giggled over some nonsense. Right then, I knew something was off.
At dinner, I didnt grill herjust watched. But when the conversation turned to her, her life, and her plans, it all became clear. She barely scraped through school, was in her last year of college, and had no intention of going to university. Why bother? According to her, a womans place was as a wife and motherend of story. She had no plans to work. Her parents bankrolled her now, and soon, that burden would fall on James. She still lived at home but planned to move into our flat after the wedding. And the icing on the cake? She was pregnant. Still early days, so the wedding had to be rushed before the bump gave her away. She acted like the world owed her everything, as if her looks were a free pass to an easy life.
The worst came when James stepped out for a smoke. Emily pulled out a pack of slim cigarettes and followed him. Pregnantand smoking! I nearly choked on my outrage. What about the baby? She couldnt have cared less.
Soon enough, they married, and we all lived together in my flat. I left for work early, came back late, while Emily slept till noon, lounged about doing nothing, and kept sneaking out for a smoke. She got a doctors note for her pregnancy and dropped out of college. Every evening, I came home to chaosa sink full of dirty dishes, clothes strewn everywhere, an empty fridge. She never cooked, never cleaned, just glued to her phone, yammering to her mum or friends.
When I asked her to help, shed wave me offmorning sickness one day, exhaustion the next. Yet she still had the energy for café trips with friends or clubbing with James till dawn. I bit my tonguefor his sake. Then my grandson was born. And guess what? Emily didnt change a bit. James was the one up at night, pushing the pram, taking the baby to the doctor. I helped evenings and weekends, exhausted from work. And her? Sprawled on the sofa, scrolling her phone, smoking like it was nothing. It made my blood boil.
I tried reasoning with hercalmly at first, then firmly. She just smirked and ignored me. Worse, James always defended her. When I pointed out her laziness, her uselessness, hed shut me down: “Mum, shes trying, its just hard for her.” We argued. He shouted at menever at her. My son, my only boy, blinded by love for this empty-headed girl.
The tension became unbearable. One day, I snapped: “Take your wife and child and get out! See how you manage on your own!” They left. James was furious, stopped speaking to me. I tried to make him see the truth, but he shut me out. Now he barely calls, never visits. Im certain Emilys poisoning him against me, driving a wedge between us. And yet, I love my son more than life itself, and I adore my grandson with all my heart.
Ive made up my mind: James doesnt need a wife like her. He deserves bettersomeone smart, caring, not this lazy, selfish girl. He might not see it now, but Ill do whatever it takes to end this marriage. I wont stop until hes free. Sooner or later, hell realise I was right, hold me tight, and say, “Thanks, Mum.” And well raise my grandson rightwithout her shadow, her indifference, or her cigarette smoke. I wont back down. This is my fight for my boys happiness.
