I’m standing in the kitchen, staring at the mess, and I can’t believe my eyes. Yesterday was my birthday, and I decided to invite my new husband’s parents over.
Anton and I tied the knot just two months ago—quietly, no fuss, just a quick registry office ceremony. Neither of our families was there, just the two of us. We’ve been living in my flat, the one I rented before we got married. But last night… well, that was something else.
Honestly, I was a bit nervous before the in-laws arrived. They’re down-to-earth but strong-willed. My mother-in-law, Margaret, likes to take charge of everything, while my father-in-law, Richard, is the quiet type—but when he does speak, it’s always sharp. I’d gone all out to prepare: set the table, bought the best ingredients, even baked a cake myself, though my baking usually turns out mediocre. Anton kept saying not to stress—his parents were easygoing—but I wanted to make a good impression. It was their first proper visit, after all.
They showed up right on time, bearing gifts. Margaret brought an enormous bouquet of roses and a box wrapped in shiny paper. Richard handed me a bottle of homemade wine, proudly announcing he’d made it himself. Dinner started off well enough. I’d made starters, roasted a chicken, and done potatoes with mushrooms. Anton praised the food, the in-laws nodded along, even threw in a few compliments. But then things took a turn.
Margaret, as it turns out, has a knack for bringing up topics that make me squirm. Out of nowhere, she started asking when we planned to have children. I nearly choked on my wine. Anton tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, but she wouldn’t let up. “In our day, Emma, Richard and I started thinking about children right after the wedding. You’re young—why wait?” I just smiled and nodded, though all I could think was, *We’ve only just married—give us a minute!* Anton looked just as flustered, but he’s never been one to argue with his mum.
Then Margaret moved on to critiquing my kitchen. She stood up, inspecting everything like a drill sergeant. “Emma, why do you have so little crockery? You’ll need more if you’re hosting. And these dark curtains—I’d go for something lighter.” I bit my tongue, but my cheeks burned. Anton whispered, “Don’t take it to heart—she’s always like this.” But it’s *my* kitchen! I set it up how I like—now I’m being told my curtains are wrong?
Thankfully, Richard broke the tension by rambling about his allotment, how they’d had so many cucumbers this summer they didn’t know what to do with them all. I nodded along, quietly willing the evening to end. Then Margaret presented her gift. I unwrapped the box to find… a full china set. The sort with floral patterns, like something from a grandmother’s cabinet. I thanked her, but all I could think was, *Where on earth will I put this?* Our cupboards are already stuffed, and this set looks fit for a banquet.
Anton, seeing my panic, tried to lighten the mood. “Mum, you know Emma prefers ramen bowls and takeaway.” Margaret just glared. “Don’t be silly, Anton. A proper home needs proper crockery.” I nearly laughed. That’s when it hit me—life with these people was going to be quite the adventure.
When they finally left, I exhaled. Anton hugged me and said, “You did great—better than I expected.” But honestly, I’m still reeling. Now I’m here, staring at the china set, the half-eaten chicken, the unfinished wine, wondering—what does it really mean to join a new family? On one hand, I love Anton, and for him, I’ll put up with these moments. On the other… how do I stop these comments from getting to me? Maybe in time, Margaret and I will find common ground. Or maybe I’ll just learn to keep my distance.
This morning, I woke up thinking I should talk to Anton. Maybe next time, we’ll celebrate just the two of us. Or invite my parents—they’d never criticise my curtains. But I know the in-laws are part of my life now. Like it or not, I’ll have to learn to navigate this. Next time, maybe I’ll set out that china, pour their wine, and say, “Cheers to the curtains.” Joking. Probably.
