For the past twenty years, Ive been living with my daughter and her husband, but I simply havent got the energy to put up with it any longer.
Im 65, a proud grandmother to seven grandchildren. Naturally, many people might envy me, and Id say it was a blessing myselfif I werent the one babysitting that lot and subjected to their daily racket. My daughter, Emily, seems blissfully oblivious to the fact that shes got quite the brood on her hands
When grandchild number six made her grand appearance, I sat down with Emily for a heart-to-heart. Honestly, I never thought Id be discussing contraception with my 35-year-old daughter over a cup of tea, but there we were. When she and her husband, Oliver, decided on a seventh, I nearly fainted. Our house has a mere five rooms, and now weve somehow squeezed nine humans in it.
Shes jolly fortunate, Emily is, that my late husband and I spent our lives building a bigger home and buying a bit of land. Oliver now works that land and styles himself as a farmeralthough if you ask me, Im the one doing the real graft. Emily helps him with the chickens and whatnot, and I spend every waking hour in the kitchen, feeding what I can only describe as a small school assembly. The children are forever growing, so no one will touch yesterdays casseroleonly freshly made meals, thank you very much.
After number six arrived, I had this wild hope Emily would take pity on me, or at least grant me a breather from endless nappies and howling infants. But no, fate had other plans.
Meanwhile, I stayed in touch with my brother, Henry, who lives alone since his daughter took off to Portugal. One evening, he called and asked me to come roundhe wasnt feeling well. Of course, I worried, but truth be told, I was also a bit thrilled at the excuse to escape my daily grind.
Henrys on the mend now, thank heavens, but Im struggling to muster the will to return home, knowing it means plunging straight back into the chaos of shrieking children and constant mess. During this little sabbatical at Henrys, I rediscovered my love for reading, listening to jazz, and catching up with the telly. Finally, I can savour old agerather than counting the years until my grandchildren are grown. But Ive no clue how to tell the family…
Now, Emilys ringing me up, insisting I come home because she just cant cope without me. Honestly, what am I meant to do?
