Last month was my sons birthday. I told him Id come as a guest. I raised three boys myself. Anyone whos lived in a house full of men knows exactly what I mean. I cant fathom how a home could be left without supper on the table or things strewn about the place. Now, at fifty-two, Ive always believed a woman ought to make a home comfortable and safe for a man to return to. But I doubt my daughter-in-law shares that sentiment.
My eldest son married two years ago, and nine months later, they had a daughter. He was twenty-eight then, and his wife, just twenty. Emily was still at university, but the eight-year gap didnt seem to trouble my son.
When she was expecting, Emily grew quite difficultconstantly sending my son out for one thing or another. First, it was apples in the morning, then an orange, then flowers. My son never argued; he indulged her every whim. We thought once the baby came, things would change. They didnt.
She nursed the child for two monthsthat was all. Then she told my son she was weary from sleepless nights and needed rest. Raised to be patient and kind, he asked me to step in. Of course, I couldnt refuse.
While I cared for the baby, Emily spent her days at salons, and when she returned, she couldnt be bothered to cook supper for my son after work. So, for a week straight, I looked after their daughter. Emily grew accustomed to sleeping till noon, living entirely as she pleased, leaving everything to me.
After a month, I broke down and said I had to go home. Emily was cross. I knew she wasnt yet capable on her own, so I visited from time to time, but what I saw dismayed methe house in disarray, the fridge empty. She couldnt even be bothered to cook for her own child. Having raised three sons myself, such carelessness was beyond me. My son always had a proper meal waiting at home.
Last month, on his birthday, I visited, thinking surely Emily would prepare something. Instead, she ordered pizza and sushi.
I cant understand why my son tolerates such a wife. I fear its because they never lived together before marriagehe never saw her true nature. It pains me to watch him suffer in silence.
Ive been thinking of a way to make her behave as a wife and mother ought. My only worry is that my son might resent me for it. So yesterday, I called Emily and invited her to lunch, just the two of us. I smiled, listened to her talk about her classes, and said gently, You know, dear, when my boys were little, your mother-in-law taught me a recipe that saved our marriageher secret beef stew. Its what kept your husbands father coming home happy every night. Her face softened. I handed her the recipe card, worn at the edges, and said, Why dont you try it this week? For him. I didnt mention the note tucked inside the cardfor his eyes only, explaining what Id seen, what he deserved, and how love sometimes means making hard choices. Then I patted her hand and said, A warm meal is a mothers first gift to her family. She nodded, and for the first time, I thought she might understand.
