My son refuses to take his mum in to live with us, simply because there is only one lady of the house and thats me.
Thats not right! This is his mother, after all! He could let her live with them in their house! Such things are said by my husbands relatives. Im quite sure my friends think the same, though no one dares say it to my face. All of this is about the matter with my mother-in-law.
Margaret is 83 now, weighs well over sixteen stone, and is often unwell.
Why dont you and David let Margaret move in with you? my cousin asked a few years ago. Its good of you to help her daily, but what if something happens at night? She struggles on her own. Your David is her only real support, after all.
Of course, everyone assumes the grandmother will be cared for by her only son, his only wife, and her only grandson. Margaret hasnt left her flat in five years. Her legs ache, and her weight leaves her barely mobile. This all started thirty years ago. Back then, my mother-in-law was energetic, healthy, and strong-willed.
Who have you brought me? she demanded when she met me. For this girl, after all Ive done for you?
With those words still stinging, I quietly caught the bus home. At that time, Davids mother lived in a posh suburban estate, in a large, lovely house. Her husband had a serious job, so Margaret had enjoyed a comfortable life, even after he passed away. That day, David came after me and travelled home with me. I was lucky with my husband he never blindly obeyed his mother. He respected her, mind, and tried to reassure me, telling me this was just the way she was.
After the wedding, we started saving for our own place. David worked away and was gone for months on end. In a few years, we managed to buy a house, and not long after, made it our home. We didnt visit Margaret very often, and in that time, she filled Davids head and the ears of everyone she knew with nonsense about me. See, my daughter-in-law wont let my son help his mum. Not true at all, but on she went.
She decided to move to the city, though the money from the house wasnt enough. She asked us to top it up and promised the flat would be left to our son, her grandson. But at the solicitors, she insisted the property must be in her name after all shed heard from a friend that grandmothers often end up homeless otherwise. Then she said shed only leave the flat to whomever looked after her in old age. She wanted to be the mistress of her own house! She said we were going to cheat her and leave her with nothing.
Its been nearly twenty years since. Everyone could hear her moaning at the solicitors office; it was dreadfully embarrassing. So we let it go. She moved in at once and wouldnt allow us to do any sort of repairs. After less than a month, she started grumbling that everything was old and breaking. She blamed it all on me: Id found her a terrible flat and was trying to cheat her.
Margaret doted on her cousins children, but ignored her own grandson, to the point of pretending not to remember his birthday. Several years ago she fell ill, gained so much weight she could barely move. I brought her salads and low-fat meals as the doctor ordered, but she cursed me and refused to eat, saying only her cousin knew how to feed her properly I was starving her.
Last year, David started asking me to take her in. He said his mum had realised she must do what the doctor says.
All right, I agreed. But on my terms: the kitchen is solely mine, only I cook and decide what we eat, and no visits from her cousins.
My mother-in-law was indignant and refused to come she thought shed move in and be in charge. But there can be only one lady of the house and thats me! So it fell to me to visit her, clean, cook, sometimes even stay over. Her beloved cousin only ever rang to check in.
Margaret complained I was starving her: no sweets, no sausages. She begged for her cousin to bring cake, but she always put it off, claiming she was busy, even though she lived much closer. She only visited once a month, bringing unhealthy treats while I cared for Margaret every single day.
One afternoon, Margaret summoned her cousin and wailed that her necklace and cross had gone missing. She said both of us had been by that day, but was certain it was me who took them.
Without a word, I set her meal down and picked up the missing necklace and cross from where theyd fallen behind her bedside table. At home, I told David everything and decided I could not go on like this. I suggested we place her in a care home. David agreed.
In the end, I realised something important: no amount of sacrifice will ever be enough for some people. You must look after yourself too, or youll end up lost beneath the weight of other peoples expectations.
