You’re Stealing from My Son—He Can’t Even Afford a Lightbulb! On Sunday morning, I was curled up under a blanket on the sofa while my husband drove off to his mother’s house, supposedly to change her lightbulbs. But, of course, the real reason for summoning her son was something else entirely: “Son, haven’t you forgotten that it’s Igor’s birthday today?” My husband is a true spendthrift. His wages last just a few days, though I’m grateful he at least gives me money for the bills and groceries. The rest is blown on new video games and all the latest gadgets. I don’t mind, honestly; I figure it’s better for my man to indulge his hobby than to spend his time drinking in the garage or clubbing late at night. Besides, I once read that the first forty years of childhood are the hardest for anyone. I’m not telling you this for pity—just to explain why my husband’s pockets are always empty. I don’t have this problem. In fact, I manage to save money, and I often lend him cash when he’s in a pinch. But I always draw the line when he wants money to help his mother, his nephews, or his sister. Of course, I remembered Igor’s birthday and bought him a present a week ago. Right before my husband headed to his family’s place, I gave him the gift and sat down to watch a film. I didn’t go with him; there’s no love lost between me and my in-laws. They think I don’t love him simply because I refuse to let him spend our money on them or babysit his sister’s kids. Once, I agreed to look after the children for just an hour, but they weren’t picked up for half the day—and I was late to work as a result. I dared to express my frustration, and for that, his mother and sister branded me rude and shameless. Needless to say, I declined all future requests for childcare. Mind you, I never stopped my husband from spending time with his nephews; I like kids well enough myself. Not long after my husband left, he returned home—with his entire family in tow, nephews and all. His mother waltzed in, coat still on, and announced without batting an eyelid: “We’ve decided that, since it’s Igor’s birthday, we’ll give him a tablet—the one he picked out himself. It cost two thousand pounds. So you owe me a grand for the present. Hand it over.” I might have bought the boy a tablet—but certainly not one so expensive. Of course, I didn’t give her any money. To my surprise, even my husband started having a go at me for being tight-fisted. So I grabbed my laptop and called Igor over. In five minutes, we picked out a gadget he genuinely wanted and bought it then and there. He ran off, thrilled, to show his mother, who was still sulking in the hallway. My sister-in-law always had sticky fingers, so nothing lasted long in her care. My mother-in-law didn’t appreciate my act of goodwill; instead, she was instantly outraged. “No one asked you to do that! You should have just paid your share. You’re married to my son, but he’s always left begging—he can’t even buy a lightbulb. Give me a thousand pounds right now; you know full well that’s my son’s money.” She then reached into my handbag on the bedside table. I looked at my husband and hissed, “You’ve got three minutes to throw them all out!” My husband finally grabbed his mother and dragged her out of the house. Three minutes was all he needed. So, honestly, I’d rather see my husband blow his wages on games than watch his mother pocket every last penny. At least this way he spends money on something that actually brings him joy—instead of letting those freeloaders bleed him dry. Right now, I’m thinking I’d have been better off marrying an orphan!

Sunday morning found me sprawled out on the sofa beneath a cosy throw. My husband had dashed off to see his mother to swap out some light bulbs, though, predictably, there was another reason shed summoned him:

Son, have you forgotten today is Olivers birthday? she reminded, undoubtedly with an ulterior motive.

My husband is the quintessential spendthrift. His wages barely last the week. Thankfully, hes responsible enough to hand me money for the bills and groceries, but the rest is blown on the latest video games and assorted gadgets. I tend to turn a blind eyeafter all, Id rather he stayed home gaming than wind up sulking in a pub or loitering about dubious nightclubs. Plus, I once read that the first forty years of childhood are the hardest for a man, and I can hardly disagree.

Im not looking for pity; Im simply explaining why my husbands pockets are always empty. Personally, I dont have these struggles. I manage to put a bit aside, and often end up lending him cash in a pinch but I draw the line when its for his mum, his nieces and nephews, or his sister.

Remembering Olivers birthday, I bought his present a week early and handed it to my husband before he left for his familys. I didnt gomy in-laws and I have an unspoken agreement to stay as far apart as possible.

They think Im heartless because I wont let my husband pour our money into their bottomless pit, or babysit his sisters children. Once I agreed to watch his sisters kids for an hour, only for them to collect them after most of the day was gone. Of course, I was late to work and, cheekily, didnt hide my irritation. For my honesty, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law branded me brazen and rude. Any later requests for babysitting were firmly turned down by mebut I never minded when my husband decided to spend time with his family as he enjoyed it as well.

Not long after my husband set off, he returned with his entire clan in tow, including his sisters children. His mother brazenly swept through the house without so much as removing her coat and announced:

Weve decided that as its Olivers birthday, he should have the tablet he chosecost two grand! You owe me a thousand pounds for your half. Hand it over.

I might have bought the boy a tablet but never such a costly one.

Needless to say, I didnt part with a single penny. Even my husband muttered about how stingy I was being. Without hesitation, I hopped onto the computer and called Oliver over. Together, in under five minutes, we picked out a gadget he genuinely liked and promptly ordered it.

Oliver scampered off beaming, clutching the gift, to show his mum, who was still parked in the hallway. His aunt, meanwhile, was always creeping about, hands just sticky enough to make something mysteriously vanish. My mother-in-law, rather than appreciating the gesture, was immediately put out.

No one asked you to buy it; you were meant to give me the cash. Youre with my son, and hes always penniless, cant even afford a light bulb. Pass me a thousand pounds immediately, you know thats your husbands money.

At that point, she started rummaging through my handbag, which Id left on the nightstand. I glared at my husband and hissed, Youve got three minutes to get them outdont test me!

Bless him, he seized his mother by the elbow and escorted her right out the door. Three minutes, spot on.

Frankly, Id rather see my husband spend his wages on something he genuinely enjoys. For years, his mother relieved him of every penny. Much better that he indulge himself with a new game or two than have it pilfered by the same old scroungers.

Sitting here now, I cant help but think Id been better off marrying an orphan. One thing for certain: next time, Ill trust my instincts first and keep my purse even closer.