You ought to be fixing up my flat, not swanning off on holiday!
My mother-in-law has a bone to pick with usapparently, our choice to take a summer holiday is a ghastly affront, given we didnt spend that money sprucing up her flat. Never mind that her place is perfectly nice, recently redecorated, and her desire for a fresh look is little more than a whim. For some reason, she sees us as her own personal sponsors, even though shes more than capable of footing the bill herself.
My husband, William, and I are rather thrifty by necessity. Were still paying off our mortgage and juggling two teenagersEmma and Daisythrough their GCSEs and A-levels. In all our years of marriage, this was the very first time wed managed to go on a proper holiday. Up until now, the nearest we got to an adventure was camping in the New Forest or borrowing my aunts cottage in Devon. The girls had barely seen outside the M25, so we tightened our belts and finally booked a trip to Italy. Yes, it took some scrimping and scraping, but goodness, it was worth every penny.
Now, it should be said that my mother-in-law, Barbara, made it quite clear right after our wedding: she would not be looking after her grandchildren. Fair enough, I thought. I never asked her for help. As a result, every school holiday and weekend my girls spent with my parents, since Will and I both work full time. I never held it against her; after all, raising two kids is a full-time job, and now, as a pensioner, shes entitled to put her feet up.
Except, she doesnt actually put her feet up. Oh no. Barbara leads a very lively retirementswimming classes, day trips, exhibitions, you name it. Shes rarely at home. Theres just one problem: funding this social whirl. Every one of her little treat-yourself moments ends up being sponsored by her children, to the detriment of our own family. Shes never been the least bit interested in our mortgage, rising costs, or the trials of raising two teenagers. The motto is: help Mum first, ask questions never.
Add to this that every weekend, Barbara would phone Will with a list of repairs for her flat. This year, however, she well and truly lost the plotdeciding she needed her entire place redecorated. We all want things, I suppose, but that doesnt mean the universe (or ones son and daughter-in-law) is obliged to provide them. Besides, we only did a full redecor five years ago, so it still looks pretty spick and span.
Heres the thingBarbara had no idea wed jetted off to Italy. We didnt think it necessary to notify her; we just locked up the house and left. Bliss, I thought.
But while we were away, Barbara dropped round as usual. Finding our door firmly shut, she rang Wills mobile, and he, in a fit of honesty, told her we were in Italy. She simply hung up on him. When we returned, though, we were greeted by absolute mayhema barrage of voicemails and the declaration of World War Three.
You couldve said something! she huffed. And where on earth did you get the money? You ought to be doing my redecoration, not traipsing around Italy!
Will, who usually prefers non-confrontation with his mother, wasnt having it this time. He politely but firmly reminded her that *our* money had nothing to do with her.
Barbara hasnt spoken to us since. Shes even ignoring her granddaughters. The rest of the family, meanwhile, have started phoning to inform us how were the villains of the piece. Honestly, Will and I arent losing sleep over it. My parents are solidly on our side, reminding us to seize these moments while were young (well, relatively). After all, mother-in-laws redecoration was hardly an urgent humanitarian crisisjust a fancy. And fancy or not, were not about to fund it at the expense of living a little ourselves.
