Mum has already got cross with me after hearing that my husbands relatives have invited us over for the summer. They live down by the coast and would be more than happy to put up me and my daughter for the whole holiday. Naturally, I want to goour doctor advised that a seaside break would do the child a world of good and help her stay healthy through the year.
But Mums in tears, insisting that its absolutely impossible because theres far too much work to do in her garden during the summer, and she cant manage it on her own. She relies heavily on my help, and she’s not shy about reminding me how little I did last year. Its trueI barely helped her at all, but to be fair, the little one was only a few months old, and I hardly had time to think, let alone tend to Mums tomato plants.
Honestly, even back when I was at secondary school, Id had my fill of garden duties. While everyone else enjoyed their summer holidays, I was expected to spend most days at our plot, ticking off a long list of jobs: weeding, watering, and the rest. My parents both worked full time and could only pop by the garden on weekends, so it was my free time that got swallowed up. For some reason, it seemed obvious to them that I should shoulder the burden.
There I was, while other children went out cycling, swimming, or just having fun, toiling away in the veg patch. And even then, as soon as I got anything done, Mum would swoop in, fuss over her beloved seedlings, and spend the whole weekend telling me I was going about it all wrong.
When I got to university, I wanted to earn some money over the summer. That, unsurprisingly, prompted a fresh set of complaints from Mum.
After I married, she tried to rope in my husband for the endless chores. He went along a couple of times, quickly saw thered never be any end to it, and then refused outright. Mum was scandalised, saying he wasnt just growing things for her, but for all of us. But my husband realised it was far easierand cheaperto simply buy what we needed at the supermarket than spend every weekend slogging away in her allotment.
I started going less often too, though Mum would nag me about it endlessly. Then I got pregnant, and the matter seemed to sort itself out: I could hardly help outside, especially as the heat made me absolutely miserable.
Once our daughter arrived, I more or less skipped the garden altogether for a year. Even Mum conceded that it would be impossible with the baby. She didnt press, but she was clearly plotting how to get me back next summer.
Mums reasoning was that by then, my daughter would be big enough, and we could take turns minding her in the garden, and Id be free to get stuck into the vegetable patch again.
And the little one will be fine, shed say. Its so grimy in the city, everythings smothered in dust, but in the countryside, its lovelyfresh air and sunshine. Well buy a paddling pool, pop up a parasol, and she can splash about happily, shed dream out loud.
None of that excited me, but I kept quiet, not wanting to escalate another row. I had my own ideas.
Over Christmas, my mother-in-laws sister came round. Shes my husbands aunt, godmother and very close to himpractically another mother. She and her husband live by the seaside and have their own house there. Their son is grown up now and working abroad, so only the two of them are at home.
They invited us to stay at theirs by the sea for the summerat no expense, of course. They said theyd be delighted if we came.
At first, I thought it was just a polite offer, but then my husbands aunt rang us several times to say again that she was looking forward to us coming. My husband cant get the whole summer off, but he can take a week at the start to drive us down and another week in autumn to fetch us back.
We really wanted to go, and since the doctor had recommended that kind of trip for the childs health, it seemed an easy decision. And then my mum threw a spanner in the works.
Suddenly, the sunshine was dangerous, and what sort of person would go off to stay with strangers? Apparently, her garden would be just as goodif not betterfor the childs wellbeing. She also reminded me, pointedly, that she did all the work on her own last year. My determination to go only wound her up even more.
Because honestly, who, when given the choice between endless gardening and a holiday by the sea, would choose the garden? Especially when we dont even need the produce from her garden. We buy our food at the shops, and her homemade chutneys and jams are still piling up untouched in the cellarwe hardly eat them. Its just not for us.
