Youre robbing my son; he cant even afford a lightbulb.
It was a Sunday morning, and I lay cosily wrapped in a tartan blanket on our sofa. My husband had popped over to his mothers cottage to change a lightbulb, or so he claimed. Truth be told, she simply wanted to call him round for another reason.
Son, have you forgotten its Olivers birthday today?
My husband, you see, has always been rather extravagant with his wages. His monthly pay packet seldom lasts beyond a handful of days. Thankfully, he hands me enough for the household bills and groceries, but the rest vanishes on the latest console games and whatever fancy accessories go along with them. I never make a fuss over itafter all, I believe its better he enjoys his hobbies at home than spends his time down the pub or, heaven forbid, gallivanting off to those dreadful nightclubs. Besides, I read somewhere that the first forty years of childhood are toughest for any man.
Dont take this as some sort of moan; I only bother mentioning it so youll understand why he forever has empty pockets. I never have this issue. In fact, Ive mastered the art of putting a bit aside. I even lend him cash, should he find himself shortexcept when its for his mother, nieces and nephews, or his sister. I stand my ground firmly there.
Of course, I remembered young Olivers birthday myself and had already picked up a little present for him the week prior. Before my husband set off to his family, I handed him the gift and settled in to watch a film. I didnt join, as theres no love lost between myself and my in-laws.
Theyve always suspected I dont care for him, simply because I wont let him lavish money upon them or babysit the nephews and nieces. Once, I agreed to mind my sister-in-laws brood for an hour, but they left them with me for nearly half the day. I ended up late to work for my trouble, and when I expressed my annoyance, his mother and sister declared me insolent and rude. Afterwards, I declined any further requests for childcare. Still, I didnt mind if my husband played with the children; truth be told, I rather enjoyed their company myself.
It wasnt long after my husbands departure that he returnedthis time bringing the whole clan along, children in tow. His mother swept through the front room, still in her coat, and made her announcement:
Weve decided that, since its Olivers birthday, well give him a tablet he picked out himself. It cost £400, so you owe me £200 towards the present. Hand it over.
Now, I might have considered a gift for the boy, but certainly not one so dear.
I flatly refused to part with a penny. My husband then had the cheek to call me stingy. I ignored him, powered up my laptop, called little Oliver over, and in five minutes we chose and ordered a gadget he seemed quite chuffed with.
Off he dashed to his mother, still sulking in the hallway. My sister-in-law tends to have sticky fingersshe always manages to snatch something when she visits. My good deed didnt go down well. His mother bristled with indignation.
No one asked for your help! You ought to have just handed over the money. Youre with my son, and hes left begging, cant even buy a lightbulb! Give me £200 this instantyou know full well thats his money.
She lunged for my handbag left by the nightstand. I looked my husband squarely in the eye and hissed, Youve got three minutes to get them out!
At that point, my husband, flustered but resolute, grabbed his mother by the arm and all but dragged her out, with the rest reluctantly following. Three minutes was all he needed.
And so, Id much rather my husband squandered his salary on computer games than have his mother pinch the lot, as she did before. Better he spends on what makes him happy than let those lot take it from him.
Sometimes, as I reminisce, I think I ought to have married an orphan.
