My grandchildren only see fruit once a month, yet she buys those pampered cats luxury food, my daughter-in-law snaps, accusing me of being heartless.
Shes really trying to shame me, pointing out her children barely get any fruit while my cats feast on quality kibble. But the bottom line is, those children have both a father and mother to organise their meals, while my cats have only me. When I once suggested to my son and his wife to slow down on expanding their brood, I was firmly told to mind my own business. So now I do. I simply care for my cats and quietly listen to my daughter-in-law railing on about my supposed lack of family feeling.
My sons wedding happened rather quickly, with my daughter-in-law noticeably pregnant. Of course, they insisted it was all about love, and the pregnancy just happened to coincide as if Id believe that. But I kept my doubts to myself. After all, my son is an adult and must live with his choices.
Before maternity leave, my daughter-in-law, Emily, worked as a cashier. Most of her pregnancy, she was off sick, complaining of how hard it was to cope with difficult customers. To be fair, Emily is hardly known for her patience or easy-going nature, so I find it easy to imagine plenty of confrontations.
Still, her temperament was barely my concern. We lived separately I had my own flat, and my son and Emily took out a mortgage on another. Back when my son and I shared my old three-bedroom flat, I owned it. We sold it, I bought myself a one-bed, and he invested his share into a new three-bed with a hefty mortgage.
Why jump into a three-bed now? Thats an awful lot of debt, Id asked at the time, back when he hadnt told me about the impending wedding. Soon enough, everything made sense.
My son pays the mortgage alone Emily, almost always off sick or soon to go on maternity leave, isnt contributing financially, but has no trouble spending whatever cash there is. Little wonder theyre always skint.
I stay out of their affairs no one wants to be the interfering mother-in-law left holding the blame. My son chose his wife; she clearly suits him well enough. Were not sharing a kitchen, so let them run their own lives.
He bought the flat quite close to mine, so hed often pop round after work for supper. Emily rarely cooked, always saying the smells made her nauseous. Maybe so, Im not going to argue.
When their first child arrived, I thought about helping. After all, she was a first-time mum. But I was bluntly told shed sort it herself, thank you very much, and had all the advice she could ever need from her mum and the internet. Fine by me. So I just visited now and then, brought treats for my grandson, and never pushed to help.
It was tough for my son to keep up the mortgage with both a wife and a child, but he soldiered on, never complaining, understanding entirely that the situation was of his own making. I sympathised, of course, but about all I could do was feed him a decent meal now and then. Id reassure him that itd get easier once the little one grew and Emily returned to work.
But Emily had no intention of going back to work. When their eldest was nearly two, she was expecting again. I gently hinted that perhaps they were taking family growth a bit too seriously, to which Emily snapped back, Stay out of our business! Were managing fine. We dont ask anything of you! My son muttered something about child benefits making things easier. Well, if thats their decision, who am I to interfere? My relationship with Emily had always been chilly, and after her outburst, I kept my distance. The only real connection I kept was with my eldest grandson, whom my son sometimes brought over for visits.
So I got on with my own life, and they with theirs. My son often lamented that money was desperately tight; his stories hinted at more going wrong at home. But did I offer advice? What could I say? Divorce? Find another job? Talk it out with Emily? As if any of those were simple fixes.
The second baby arrived, and I wasnt even invited to meet him not even when Emily left hospital. It hurt, but I wasnt about to make myself a laughing stock. Clearly, Emily had made her mind up about me, and my son wasnt about to stand up to her.
I only saw my younger grandson for the first time when he was seven months old, allowed in as a special exception for the elders birthday. I brought presents for both, a few things for the table, knowing money was tight. We sat for a couple of hours. Emily paraded about stony-faced, as if she were doing me a great favour. But Im too old to chase after an uppity girl trying to win her over.
That was that. I never asked to visit, and they never invited me. I see my elder grandson whenever my son manages to bring him, but the younger one remains with his mother for now.
Financially, things never improved for them. The child benefit went straight into the mortgage, but it wasnt a miracle solution. My son more and more often complained that arguments with Emily over money were constant she simply couldnt budget, and hes no banker either. Again, I said nothing.
Recently, I bumped into Emily at Sainsburys. To my surprise, she was obviously pregnant again. She glanced into my basket.
Thats about right! The grandchildren barely get fruit once a month, and shes buying expensive food for her precious cats, she practically hissed, then yanked her eldest away.
But how exactly is it my fault that I can afford decent food for my pets and they cant put fruit on the table for their kids? Everyone knows moneys tight, between the mortgage and my sons job not going particularly well but she keeps on having babies. Why not get a job to buy her children fruit herself? Thats hardly my responsibility.
No doubt, shell now ban me from seeing my grandchildren completely, seeing as Im apparently the wrong sort of grandmother not eager to hand over every penny to my sons family. One should live within their means, but Emily seems to lack that sense. And worst of all, it seems my son does too.
