The Mother-in-Law and Her Cottage Plans
The other day, my mother-in-law, Margaret Higgins, dropped a bombshell that nearly made my jaw hit the floor. Apparently, this summer, she’s whisking off her daughter Natalie’s kids—Sophie and Oliver—to her countryside cottage, while our six-year-old, Lily, is being *graciously* deposited back with us for the entire summer! And all this without so much as a by-your-leave! When my husband, James, and I dared to object, Margaret just sniffed and said, “It’s only fair, Emma! I can’t possibly take *all* the grandchildren!” Fair? Since when did our lives become subject to her royal decrees? I’m still fuming, and if I don’t vent, I might just spontaneously combust.
It all started a fortnight ago when Margaret rang up and casually announced her “plans.” At first, I didn’t twig what she was getting at. “Emma, love,” she said, “this year, I’m taking Sophie and Oliver to the cottage. They’re older now, easier to handle, so little Lily can stay with you.” I honestly thought she was joking. Lily *adores* Margaret’s cottage—there’s a garden, a swing, a brook nearby. Every year, she’d spend a couple of weeks there, and James and I were thrilled: Lily was happy, and we got a breather. But for Margaret to suddenly decree that our daughter wouldn’t go at all, instead being dumped on us like an unwanted parcel? That’s a bridge too far!
I immediately turned to James: “Did you *hear* what your mother’s decided? Since when does she get to call the shots?” James, ever the peacemaker, just shrugged. “Em, Mum just wants time with Natalie’s kids. Lily’ll be fine here—we’ll manage.” *Manage?* Of course we’ll manage, but that’s not the point! Why didn’t Margaret *ask* us? We both work, we’d planned a summer holiday with Lily—maybe a seaside trip. Now what? Cancel everything because Her Majesty has spoken? And that line about it being “fair”—as if she’s doing us a favour!
I tried reasoning with her directly. “Margaret,” I said, “why didn’t you discuss this? Lily loves the cottage, and we assumed she’d be going, as usual.” Her response? “Emma, don’t start. Sophie and Oliver haven’t been in ages, so they’re coming. Lily’s *yours*—you deal with her.” I nearly dropped the phone. *Deal with her?* Since when is Lily not her granddaughter too? And why do Natalie’s kids take priority? I know Natalie lives closer to the cottage, and Margaret’s always fussed over them more. But to outright favour them over Lily? That’s just rude.
I tried explaining—we had plans, Lily would be hurt, she’d miss the cottage. But Margaret cut me off. “Emma, don’t be dramatic. Lily can stay home, and I’m not made of elastic—I can’t stretch to fit everyone.” *Not made of elastic?* Who asked her to be? We’ve never forced Lily on her; we’ve always arranged things politely. Now she’s just steamrolling us. James, instead of backing me up, just sighed. “Mum knows best, Em. Don’t make a fuss.” *Don’t make a fuss?* I’m this close to packing Lily into the car and driving her to that cottage myself—let Margaret try turning her away to her face!
The worst part is Lily. She’s already asking, “Mum, when are we going to Granny’s cottage? I want to swing and pick berries!” I don’t know what to tell her. Say Granny picked the others instead? She’s just a child; she won’t understand, but she’ll be heartbroken. And I won’t let my daughter feel less loved. I even suggested a compromise—take all three grandkids for a month, and we’d cover the costs. But Margaret dug her heels in. “Emma, my decision’s final. Don’t interfere.” *Don’t interfere?* Since when am I an outsider in my own child’s life?
I rang Natalie, hoping she’d talk sense into her mum. But she just shrugged. “Emma, Mum does what she wants. Sophie and Oliver have been begging to go, and Lily’s still little—she’ll be fine at home.” *Little?* Lily’s only a year younger than Sophie—what’s the difference? It’s clear Natalie’s chuffed her kids are the favourites. Meanwhile, James and I are left to untangle this “fair” arrangement.
Now I’m weighing options. Maybe we should just stick to our seaside plans with Lily and forget the cottage? But it galls me that Margaret’s written off our daughter so easily. Or perhaps James should finally put his foot down? Though I know he’ll balk—he’s allergic to conflict with his mother. “Em, she loves Lily,” he says. “She just wants fairness.” *Fairness?* Since when is fairness shipping one grandchild off to paradise and delivering the other like a takeaway?
I haven’t decided yet. But one thing’s certain: I won’t let Lily feel like an afterthought. If Margaret thinks she can issue “fair” edicts from on high, she’s mistaken. We’ll make this summer magical for Lily—cottage or not. And I’ll remind Margaret that her grandchildren aren’t just Natalie’s. If she wants to be a proper grandmother to all of them, she’d better learn to *discuss*, not dictate. For now, I’m just trying not to explode over this so-called “fairness” and figuring out how to explain to Lily why Granny’s being so jolly odd.
