My son wont take his mum to live with him, because theres only room for one lady in the house and that lady is me.
Thats not right! Shes his own mother! He could certainly bring her into his home! Such comments come from my wifes relatives. Im aware that most of our friends feel the same, but nobody ever says it directly to my face. This all has to do with the situation concerning my mother-in-law.
Margaret is 83 years old, weighs well over 16 stone, and falls ill quite often.
Why not bring Margaret to live with you? my wifes cousin asked a few years ago. Its good you help her daily, but what if something happens at night? She struggles being alone. After all, your David is her only support.
Of course, it goes without saying that her only son, his devoted wife, and her one grandchild should take care of Granny. For the last five years, Margaret hasnt set foot outside her flat. Her legs ache, and her weight prevents her from getting about. It all began thirty years ago, though. Back then my mother-in-law was full of energy: young, healthy, and very commanding.
Whos this youve brought to me? Margaret scoffed when she first met me, eyeing her son Davids choice in a wife. I devoted my whole life to you, and for this?
I left quietly, catching the next bus. At the time, my wifes mother lived on a prestigious estate in Surrey, in a grand house. Her husband had held an important post, which meant Margaret enjoyed a comfortable life, even after he passed away years ago. That day, David caught up with me at the stop and came home with me. Thankfully, my husband isnt one to blindly listen to his mother, though hes ever respectful towards his elders. He tried to reassure me, saying, Thats just how Mum is.
After we got married, we began saving for our own home. David worked away, gone for half a year at a time. Over the years, we managed to buy a house, then refurbished it. We didnt often visit Margaret. Meanwhile she spread all sorts of stories about me to David and anyone whod listen. See, my daughter-in-law wont let him help his own mother! How could I not allow it? And so on.
She decided to move into London, but the money she got for her house wasnt enough. She suggested we chip in, promising to have the flat left to our son her grandson. But when we saw the solicitor, Margaret suddenly declared the flat had to be in her name; a friend had told her that old ladies can be left without a home otherwise. After that, she insisted shed leave her home to whoever looked after her in old age. She wanted to be in charge! She accused us of plotting to leave her with nothing.
Nearly twenty years have passed since then. Everyone at the solicitors office heard her moaning, while we felt extremely uncomfortable. In the end, we relented. Margaret moved in almost immediately and wouldnt even let us do the simplest of repairs. She lived there a few weeks before complaining everything was old, faulty, and falling apart. Naturally, she blamed me for it all: You found me a rotten flat just to cheat me.
Margaret dotes on her cousins children, but shes ignored her own grandson, even pretending not to remember his birthday! A few years ago, my mother-in-law fell ill. She gained so much weight she could barely move around her own home. I took her healthy, doctor-recommended meals. But Margaret cursed and refused the food, saying, Only my cousin feeds me properly. Youre starving me.
Last year, my wife started asking if we could take her mother in. She claimed Margaret now understood she should listen to doctors.
Fine, I said, but I have conditions: the kitchen stays my domain, I alone do the cooking and decide the menu, and therell be no cousins visiting unannounced.
Margaret was outraged and refused. Shed imagined that if she came, she could take charge in our home. But we only have one proper lady of the house and thats me! So instead, I kept visiting, cleaning and cooking for her, even staying overnight when she was unwell. Meanwhile, the favourite cousins concern was usually limited to the phone.
My mother-in-law would call to complain I was starving her: no chocolates, no smoked sausages. She begged her cousin to come and bring cake, but she always said she was busy and would visit another time, even though she lived much closer than we did. She only popped around once a month with something unhealthy while I cared for Margaret day in, day out.
One day, Margaret summoned her cousin over, complaining her necklace and cross had gone missing. She mentioned that both of us had been there that day and was certain Id taken them.
Without a word, I placed her dinner on the table, then picked up the chain and cross, which had fallen from her bedside cabinet. At home, I told my wife what had happened and decided Id had enough. I suggested we arrange for her to move into a care home, and David agreed.
