Back when my husband and I barely had two pennies to rub together, my mother-in-law was living it up: she bought herself a fur coat, splurged on a brand-new telly, and strutted around like she was the Queen herself.
But oh, how the tables turned!
I fell pregnant at eighteen. My parents didnt want to knowFar too young for babies, they said. As for my husband, hed just been shipped off into the army. Both my grandmothers, in perfect harmony, declared, The baby is your problem, love.
Mum was blunt as a hammer: Dont expect me to look after your child. Not now.
My mother-in-law, meanwhile, refused to say a word to me. Absolutely silent treatment.
So, I ended up moving in with my aunt on Dads side.
She was 38, no kids, and had devoted her life to her career. She never once judged my parents.
I get it, she told me. It was tough for them, when you were little. They worked their fingers to the bone for you. Your dad used to unload lorries at the station at night, just to keep you in beans on toast.
But now, I went on, theyre pretty comfortable. Dads got a cushy job, big salary, a decent two-bed flat, and Mum still works. And here I am, about to have a baby. They genuinely dont care?
They just want a bit of peace, thats all, said Aunt Jane. Dont be too hard on them. Theyll come round eventually.
Well, eventually never showed up. I packed my things and made myself at home in Aunt Janes spare room.
When my husband returned from the army, our son was already toddling about. Throughout his service, my mother-in-law hadnt visited her grandson once; my parents had only popped in twice. Charming, right?
My husband became a car mechanic and tried juggling uni at the same timenot much luck there. We remained at Aunt Janes. When our son started nursery and I found a job, Aunt Jane was moving to a new area, so it was time for us to brave the world of renting.
A little while later, my husbands grandma passed away.
Thats when my mother-in-law sold her mums old flat, spruced up her place from top to bottom, and bought herself every gadget and knick-knack shed ever fancied. My husband pleaded with her not to sell the flat, even offered to pay monthly, with the plan of buying it back for us. Not a chance.
Why should I sacrifice my happiness? she sniffed. Ive wanted these home improvements for ages, and if you want them done, you do them!
Five years later, we welcomed a daughter. It was pretty obvious we needed our own nest. My husband started working overseas, but saving up for a place in England was no walk in the park, let me tell you. We kept renting, kids in tow.
Just for fun, my mum was rattling round alone in her three-bed flat, Dad having left her a couple of years earlier, but somehow there was no space for her daughter and grandkids. As for my mother-in-law? Always some DIY project on the goshe couldnt possibly help.
Years passed. My husband was slogging away in Europe, and at last, we scraped together enough for our very own flat. And not a single penny in help from our parents.
Now, our eldest is finishing Year 8, our daughter is in Year 2, and they both understand the value of every pound coin. Were miles away from where we startedeach with our own car, and every summer, its sandcastles in Cornwall for us.
The only person we owe anything to is my Aunt Jane. If she phones, no questions asked, were there in a flash.
Our parents? Well, time caught up with them. Mum lost her job, called just the other week begging for a handoutI had to say no.
My mother-in-laws not faring much betterretired, but shes blown through her rainy day fund (aka, the old flat money). My husband told her straight: Sell that palatial, fully refurbished flat and buy yourself a smaller one.
Honestly, we dont owe anybody a thing these days. The way we raise our kids is a far cry from the way our parents dealt with us. Well always help them, come what may. And Id like to think, when were old and grey, theyll have our backs too.
