Oh, so there’s this story about a mother-in-law who fakes being ill just to get attention—classic, right?
In a quiet little town near Manchester, in a cozy flat by the River Mersey, life for Emily and her husband James was pretty steady. That is, until his mum, Margaret, decided to stir the pot. Their story? Well, it’s all about good intentions turning into a proper test of patience and family bonds.
After they got married, Emily and James moved into their own place straight away. Their kids were grown up with families of their own, so it was just the two of them in their spacious flat. Feeling guilty about Margaret being all alone, they invited her to move in.
“She’s family, after all,” Emily said to James. “And she’d be a help around the house.”
Margaret would often moan about how lonely her empty flat was, especially at night when the silence felt suffocating. Emily, without a second thought, opened their home to her, thinking it’d bring them all closer.
At first, things were grand. Margaret threw herself into chores—tidying up, cooking, swapping recipes with Emily. It felt like they were building something nice, full of mutual respect. Margaret seemed grateful, and the house had this lovely harmony about it.
With her mother-in-law pitching in, Emily even found time to get back into her hobby: knitting to order.
“It’s not like we’re rolling in it, but every little helps with the household budget,” she’d say to her mates, showing off her latest creations.
She even knitted Margaret a couple of jumpers, which she wore proudly, bragging to the neighbours. For two years, there wasn’t a single argument, and Emily started to believe they’d cracked the perfect balance.
But then, slowly, things shifted. Emily noticed Margaret started *conveniently* dodging chores. She wouldn’t outright refuse, but suddenly the dishes were left dirty, the floors unswept, dinner unmade. Emily, coming home from work, would spend her evenings picking up the slack.
“I really try to manage my time,” Emily sighs. “I want to keep on top of the house *and* my orders. But because of her, everything falls apart. Clients get annoyed, I miss deadlines.”
Her knitting—which brought her joy *and* a bit of extra cash—was suddenly on the line. Emily never loved housework, but what really got to her was letting clients down. Her knitting time vanished like morning mist, and the exhaustion piled up like a ton of bricks.
Eventually, Emily tried talking to Margaret. Gently, she explained she needed her help like before. But Margaret played dumb.
“I *do* help!” she huffed. “What more do you want?”
Emily suggested splitting chores clearly: she’d handle the house so she wouldn’t have to rely on Margaret. But instead of understanding, she got the silent treatment. Margaret, like a kid who’d had her sweets taken away, ran straight to James to complain.
“Emily’s being awful to me!” she whinged. “I do my best, and she’s never happy!”
James, without even hearing Emily out, just gave her this confused look:
“What’s got into you? Why are you having a go at Mum?”
Emily tried to explain, but Margaret turned it into a game. One minute she’d “fall ill,” moaning about her heart and feeling weak, the next she’d miraculously “recover” when it suited her. Emily felt trapped—every time she counted on her, history repeated itself.
“I’ve stopped relying on her,” Emily admits. “I plan everything like she’s not even here. But I’ve lost clients, and that hits us all because that knitting money went straight into the pot.”
Funny thing, though—the second the extra income dried up, Margaret suddenly got *very* helpful again. Dishes sparkled, floors gleamed, dinner appeared like magic. Emily couldn’t shake the feeling it was all just a ploy for attention.
“Maybe she’s lonely?” Emily wonders. “We *do* make time for her—walks in the park, visiting friends. But the second I take on a new order, she ‘gets poorly’ again.”
Now Emily’s stuck. Margaret’s helping again, so she could take on more work. But what if it’s another trick? More missed deadlines, more frustrated clients, more blame from James?
“I don’t know what to do,” Emily murmurs, staring at the half-finished jumper. “If I turn down orders, we lose out. But if I trust her and she pulls the same stunt, I can’t handle it.”
So what’s the move? Ignore the mind games and take the risk? Or take back control and give up what she loves? Maybe she’s overthinking it, and Margaret really *does* need looking after. Or is this just a game where Emily’s always the one to lose?
