My son hasnt divorced; he lives with his girlfriend, yet hes utterly voiceless in his own home. Every time I want to visit, my daughter-in-law makes me promise a set amount of money, otherwise, Im not allowed to see my grandson.
They married two years ago. I never warmed to this young woman. Her eyes were always calculating, her hands greedy. She barely had the ink dry on her marriage certificate before she began making demandsinsisting that my three-bedroom flat should be sold, half the money given to them, all because “a proper man” should not be without a home.
We clashed bitterly on that topic. I have a daughter as welland why on earth should I have to sell my own home for my daughter-in-laws sake? Ive given my children a good education, a decent start in life; the rest they ought to earn with their own wits, just as my late husband and I did. Nothing ever fell into my lap, nor his.
My daughter isnt married yet; she works hard and took out a mortgage on her own. For a time, she lived with me and let her place, just to make the payments easier, but now she has moved out. My son, meanwhile, is a complete disappointment. He wants nothing for himself and hangs on his wifes every word. He refuses to live with me, and shes no kin of mine; apparently, she thinks its beneath her even to consider renting instead.
Not that I was keen to share my home with her, but I would have managed, if it helped them save up for a deposit. Still, I have no intention of selling or gifting them anything. When Im gone, the flat will be split equally between my children. Let them sort it out as they see fit.
I told this straight to my daughter-in-law, without mincing my words. Why should I be shamed? She actually said, Isnt it a bit much for you to be rattling around in that three-bedroom flat all alone? What a cheek! I pleaded with my son to keep his wife in check, but he only muttered something I couldnt make out.
I dont know where my son came from. Im a strong woman, his father was tough as old boots, my sister doesnt suffer fools either, but my son is spineless, honestly. I wonder how he even managed to get marriedunless my daughter-in-law simply wanted a husband and snapped him up.
Since that flat argument, my communication with her ceased. Occasionally my son would ring, but he never set foot at home; I suspect his wife forbade it. News came by phone: Id soon be a grandmother. My heart waveredfor this would be my first grandchildso I tried to make peace, bought gifts, a cake, went to visit, but she couldnt help but snipe that her baby would be born in someone elses flat like a charity case. And, again, she brought up the flat.
So much for the reconciliation. I didnt quarrel with a pregnant womanjust left quietly. Ive long since realised you cant reason with someone so narrow-minded. I didnt see them again for the rest of her pregnancy. Meanwhile, I was run ragged with doctors appointments; my health was crumbling. When she finally gave birth, nobody rang to tell me, not even my son; I found out a week after the fact when he bothered to call.
He invited me to visit, but the minute I entered conversation, my daughter-in-law cut in: Dont faff about with gifts, just bring money. I bit my tongue. Moneys money, after all, and this is my first grandchild. I withdrew some savingsafter all, grandchildren dont arrive every daypacked up the envelope, and went round as agreed.
She snatched the envelope at the door, face twisted. Clearly, ten thousand pounds wasnt enough for her. She didnt say a word aloud, but I saw the disdain all over her face. But my grandson… he was lovely, just a proper, beautiful baby. His nose looked just like his fathers. I didnt stay long; I left quietly, and they never invited me over again. I didnt insist; after all, settling a baby into a home isnt easy, one needs time to adjust. But three months later, when I realised theyd never call, I phoned my son and asked if I could drop by.
Again, I brought something for the little one, along with a cake for tea, and set off. My daughter-in-law met me at the door, took the gifts, and glared.
Frankly, she started, I hoped you all understood last time. We dont need your bits and bobs, we need money for the child.
What, Im supposed to bring an envelope every time I want to see my grandchild?
She folded her arms, staring me down. What do you think? Were renting because of you, my husbands the only one working, and youve done nothing for your grandson, so at least pay towards his keep.
I was choking with indignation. My son heard every word, but just sat there, baby in arms, eyes averted.
I turned and left. I would not demean myself before that money-grabber! I wont pay to visit my own grandchild.
We have barely spoken for almost a year now. They dont ring me, nor I them. Then, last week, my son finally called. He reminded me my grandsons birthday was coming, and said I could visit, so long as I didnt forget the gift. My daughter-in-law grabbed the phone, boomed out the amount I should bringa sum equal to my entire monthly wage.
I didnt go. I simply havent got that kind of money, and I made peace with the fact: I have no grandson and, likewise, no son. If I truly had a son, hed never let his wife blackmail me for access to my grandchild. Let them stew in their own mess. I’m not going to pay for the privilege of seeing my own flesh and blood.
And I’ve begun to think carefully about my will, how to arrange things so that, even after Im gone, neither my soft-hearted son nor his grasping wife can ever take even the smallest piece of my home.
