I dont know what to do. My son always takes his wifes side even when shes plainly wrong.
Im at my wits end, sobs Margaret Ellis, sixty, her voice trembling. My son, Michael, always, absolutely always defends his wife. Whatever happens, whatever I say, he waves his hand and says, Mum, dont worry, Emily will sort it out. Shes not foolish. He always finds an excuse for her, even when shes clearly in the wrong!
Emily, twentyeight, is Michaels wife. Together they are raising a oneyearfourmonthold boy, having bought a flat in a mortgagebound block of flats on the outskirts of Birmingham. Emily is on maternity leave; Michael is the sole breadwinner. They live modestly, carefully, without extravagance but also without need.
The motherinlaw, however, simply cannot stomach Emily.
When Michael first brought her home, I was shocked, Margaret recalls. Long, fake nails, a tattoo on her neck, a short skirt, heels that looked ready for a runway. And those lips you could see theyd been coloured. I even thought he was joking. My son could not possibly be seriously courting such a frivolous, to put it mildly, character.
A month later they were married. Even then, Margaret says, Emily looked daring leather skirt, sparkling top, stagemaker makeup. Yet Michael was happy, and Margaret decided to watch silently, to not interfere.
At first she barely spoke to her daughterinlaw, calling Michael a couple of times a month to ask how things were. Everything changed a year and a half ago when Emily and Michaels son, little Oliver, was born.
I turned up on the second day after the discharge, and what did I see? she says. Emilys fresh manicure. I told her, Emily, have you lost your mind? Thats dangerous for an infant! She replied, Its under control, Ill manage. I went to Michael and he said, Mum, dont meddle. Its none of your business. And it has always been like that. Whatever I say, I hear back, Dont interfere.
Margaret remembers trying to parent the daughterinlaw with advice, remarks, reproaches, only to be met with indifference. Emily is not the type to make excuses.
I visit and the house is a mess. I say, Emily, make a soup for the boy. He works. She says, Michael doesnt eat soup. How can he not? He ate before! Shes just lazy! If she cooked properly, hed have both soup and borscht.
She tried to speak with Michael, but Michael always rose to defend his wife.
Mum, stop nagging. Everythings fine. Emilys a good mother.
A good mother? Margaret shouts. She never puts the phone down! I havent seen her without a gadget for ages! She scrolls through Instagram even when the child is right there.
The final straw unfolded on a playground.
I knocked, there was silence. I thought perhaps they were out. I stepped onto the concrete area outside their building and saw Oliver digging in the sand, while Emily sat on a bench, eyes glued to her phone. I got closer and saw the boy standing by the railing. Suddenly he ran to me, grinned, called Grandma! And Emily she didnt even turn. He bolted onto the road! There are hardly any cars, but anything can happen!
Thank goodness, Emily whispered, trembling, there was no car at that moment. Margaret snatched the child, ran to Emily, who sat as if in a trance. If you dont switch that phone off right now, Ill smash it on the pavement! Are you a mother or what?
Emily sprang up, grabbed Oliver, and fled. The boy cried, reaching for Margaret, but the door slammed shut before her nose and never opened again.
I called Michael, Margaret continues, told him everything as it happened. He said, Mum, youve gone too far. Calm down. Emily can handle it. How can that be? I saw it all with my own eyes! He doesnt believe me! Now they both ignore me, wont answer calls, wont open the door. A month has passed! I have no idea what she whispered to him. I just want my grandson safe.
Margaret wonders:
Maybe hes right? Maybe I should have stayed quiet? But I cant be silent when a childs welfare is at stake! I am a mother. I am a grandmother.
Now she sits alone, phone switched off, a solitary woman while the son she helped raise stands forever on his wifes side. Always.
