24May2025
Dear Diary,
Emily was at the kitchen table, eyes fixed on Margaret Hughes as she sliced apples for an apple cake, babbling about something with the enthusiasm of a storyteller. My wife barely heard her. Its been a month since Margaret moved in, and I can see Emilys patience wearing thin. Though our fiveyear marriage has been happy, lately shes begun to wonder whether she made a mistake by marrying my mothers son.
Emily, youre not listening to me! Margaret snapped, pausing her tale and pursing her lips. Im saying James should find a different job. That design firm is a joke. I spoke to a friend who can take him into her construction companybetter pay, clearer prospects, a promotion within a year. And you could stay at home.
Emily took a deep breath, fighting irritation. Margaret, James decides where he works. Hes an adult.
Of course hes an adult, but youre his wife! Its your duty to steer him, to advise. Design and those sketches arent proper mans work! the motherinlaw huffed.
My husband is a designerarchitect and hes very good at it, Emily replied, her voice trembling on the edge of a breakdown. His firm is reputable and he loves what he does.
Loves it? What about money? They pay him peanuts! And children? Youll need to raise themwhat will you teach them? Margaret pressed.
Were not planning children yet, Emily said quietly, even though the topic had come up before. We have enough money for now.
Not planning? Margaret set the knife down, turning to her daughterinlaw. I knew it! Five years of marriage and no kids? I was already raising you at your age, Emily!
Emily fell silent. She wanted childrenvery muchbut not now; she had just defended her PhD and secured a senior lecturer post in the department. She and I had agreed to wait three more years, just enough time for her to cement her academic career before thinking about a family.
Margaret, assuming silence meant consent, went on: My friends daughter, Poppy, already has three children, and her husbanda builderhas put a roof over a lovely home.
Margaret, Emily tried again, James and I will decide our own path. I respect you, but
What do you mean decide ourselves? the motherinlaw snapped. Im his mother; I know whats best for himand for you! Youre still young and naïve. A mother never gives bad advice.
Emily shook her head and left the kitchen. Arguing seemed pointless. She retreated upstairs to our modest but cosy house, bought two years ago with a mortgage, lay on the bed and closed her eyes. She was exhaustedlectures, grading, and Margarets constant nagging had drained her.
That evening I came home, tired but in good spirits. You wont believe itIve been appointed lead designer on a new project! I announced, kissing her.
Congratulations, love! she beamed.
Mom, what project? How much will they pay? Margaret interjected at once.
Its a highend residential development, I said, buoyed. The salary will increase, of course.
By how much? she pressed.
Its a decent rise, I replied, trying to keep the peace. Were comfortable.
Comfortable? What about the mortgage? The car? Your car is a wrecktime for a new one! Margaret blurted. Sophies son
Its not Sophies son, I cut in. And lets not talk about that now. Im hungry.
During dinner Margaret continued her lecture. I kept mostly silent while Emily felt a growing knot of irritation. After the meal, once we were alone, Emily finally burst out:
James, I cant take this any longer. Your mother interferes with everythingyour work, our plans, our life! When is she leaving?
Emily, I sighed, she just wants the best for us. Shes always been like that.
I know, but theres a difference between visiting on weekends and living with us all the time!
Its only temporary, I tried to reassure her. Shes renovating her flat.
How long does a renovation take in a onebedroom flat? A month already passed!
You know how Mum iseverything has to be perfect. Bear with it a little longer, will you?
Emily nodded. What else could we do? We couldnt evict her, but her patience was wearing thin.
The next morning, as I was getting ready for work, Margaret stood in our bedroom doorway.
Emily, I need to talk, she said, perching on the edge of the bed.
Im in a rush, perhaps this evening? I tried to dodge.
No, its important. I think you should quit your job.
What? Why? I froze, toothbrush in hand.
Because you need to have children! You cant keep postponing forever. I spoke to James yesterday; he wants a child too.
James? I felt my heart race. Did he say that?
Not directly, but I can see it. Hes my son; I know his wishes.
I set down the brush and faced her. Margaret, I appreciate your concern, truly. But James and I have already planned to have children in three years. It isnt the right time now.
The right time? When will it be? When youre forty? I was your age when I had you, she retorted.
I know you raised me at twentytwo, but the world has changed, I replied. Back then family came first; now many build careers first. We want both, just in our own time.
I glanced at the clock. I have to go. Well revisit this tonight with James.
The day flew bylectures, tutorials, a departmental meeting. My mind kept drifting back to Margarets words. What if shes right? What if James secretly wants a child now and is hiding it?
When we returned home, Margaret had set a festive table in the living room.
Is there a celebration? I asked, slipping off my shoes.
Of course! Were holding a family council tonight! she exclaimed.
We sat, and she poured wine, then announced, I have news! I spoke to Gail Thompson, whos willing to take James into her company.
I choked on my glass. What do you mean?
The new job! Gail runs a large construction firm and wants James as head of design, she blurted, handing over some printed details.
Im not looking for a new job, Mum, James said firmly. Im happy where I am.
But think of the future, the salarytwice what you earn now! she persisted.
Im satisfied, Mum, I replied, pushing the papers aside.
James, think about the childrenhow will you raise them on this pay? Margaret urged.
We have no children yet, I reminded her.
Thats why we need them soon! Emily, you said you were quitting your job, Margaret whispered, eyes darting to me.
No! I never said that, I shouted. We discussed it this morning, and I said Id think about your suggestion later. Im not quitting.
Three years? Thats absurd! Youll be thirtythree thentoo late! Margaret cried.
Many people have children after thirty, Mum, James tried to calm her. Well decide when the time feels right.
I gave birth at twentytwo; that was perfect! she insisted. I just want the best for you both.
Your love is clear, Mum, but we need to make our own choices, James said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. We love you, but we also need space to live our lives.
Margarets eyes filled with tears. I only want to protect you from mistakes.
Even mistakes belong to us, James replied. Well learn as we go.
The dinner ended in an uncomfortable silence. Margaret retreated to her room, and I sat beside Emily, feeling the weight of the day.
James, do you really want a child now? Emily asked quietly.
No, love. Weve agreed on three years. I just want to finish this project, I answered, rubbing his temple. But Im upset with Mums constant pressure.
Maybe we should talk to her directly, Emily suggested. Explain we value her care but need to decide ourselves.
Ill speak to her tomorrow, I promised. Tonight its pointless.
The next day Margaret acted as if nothing had happened, making breakfast and asking about my plans. In the evening I found her at the computer, typing furiously.
Good evening, I said, entering the room. What are you doing?
Oh, Emily! she gasped, quickly closing the browser. Just writing to a friend.
I caught the page title: How to convince adults to have children. I sighed.
Margaret, we need to talk, I said.
About what, dear? she feigned innocence.
About you trying to control our lives, I said firmly. Were adults and make our own decisions.
Control? Im helping, advisingI’m a mother! she protested.
Youre Jamess mother, not mine, I replied. We need to set boundaries.
She shook her head. A mother always knows best.
Sometimes the best is letting us choose, I answered. Well decide when to have children and whether to change jobs.
Fine, she muttered, though the stubbornness lingered.
Just then James entered, looking uneasy. My director called todaysomeone asked about my salary and prospects, he said.
What? I asked.
He said a woman had been inquiring about me, James replied, eyes on Margaret.
That was me, she blurted, cheeks flushing. I wanted to be sure youre alright.
Calling my boss crosses a line, James said, his voice low. We need privacy.
Yes, but I only want whats best for you, Margaret replied, defensive.
We love you, Mum, but we need space to live our own lives, James said, embracing her briefly. Well have children in three years, and Ill stay at my firm. Please respect that.
She sobbed softly. I just dont want you to make mistakes.
Even mistakes are ours to learn from, James whispered. We appreciate your care, but we must steer our own ship.
The room fell quiet. Emily offered, Shall we have a cup of tea?
Tea sounds perfect, James agreed. Margaret nodded, still looking upset but beginning to understand.
The following morning Margaret announced she was moving back to her flat now that the renovation was finished. I felt a mix of relief and sympathyrelief that the house would be quieter, sympathy for a woman who truly believed she was doing the right thing.
Before she left, Emily said, Youre always welcome to visit, Margaret, just maybe not meddle in our choices.
She smiled weakly. I get it, Emily. I only ever wanted the best.
When she finally drove away, the house felt calm. James and I enjoyed the peace, planning our future without external pressure.
Three years later, as we held our newborn daughter in our arms, Margarets eyes lit up. Shes beautiful, she whispered, cradling her granddaughter. You made the right decision.
James and I exchanged a lookour patience had paid off. Margaret, now a doting grandma, still visited, but she no longer tried to steer our lives. She had learned to listen.
Looking back, I realise that Margarets relentless interference stemmed from love and fear of error. We taught her that love also means respecting autonomy.
Lesson learned: caring deeply is admirable, but the greatest gift we can give our loved ones is the freedom to choose their own path.
