Emma sat at the kitchen table, watching Margaret, her motherinlaw, slice apples for an apple crumble while rambling about everything under the sun. I barely heard a word. Its been a month since Margaret moved in, and Im near my breaking point. My marriage to James has been happy for five years, yet lately I cant help wondering whether I made a mistake marrying the son of my motherinlaw.
Emma, youre not listening to me! Margaret snapped, pausing her story and pursing her lips. Im saying James needs a new job. That firm hes with is a joke! I spoke to an old friend who would take him into her construction company. Better pay, better prospects, a promotion within a year. And you could stay at home, not work at all.
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my irritation in check. Margaret, James decides where he works. Hes an adult.
Yes, hes an adult, but youre his wife! You should steer him, give advice. All that design work and those sketches thats not a mans business! she fumed.
Hes an architectdesigner and hes brilliant, I replied, teetering on the edge of a blowup. He loves his job and the firm is reputable.
Loves it? Margaret flailed her arms. What about the money? Theyre paying him peanuts! And children? Youll have to raise them. What will you teach them?
Were not planning children yet, I said quietly, even though the topic has been aired many times. We have enough saved.
Not planning? she set the knife down and turned to me. I thought so! My word, what am I to do? Five years of marriage and no kids! I was raising James at your age!
I fell silent. I do want childrenvery muchbut not now. Id just defended my doctorate and had been promoted to senior lecturer in the department. James and I had talked it over; we both agreed to wait three more years before thinking about a family. That would give me time to establish myself in academia.
Margaret, assuming my silence meant agreement, pressed on. Lucy, my friends daughter, already has three children and her husband, a solid builder, put a roof over their heads.
Margaret, James and I will decide how we live, I tried again, I respect you, but
What do you mean we decide? Im his mother! I know whats best for him and for you! Youre still a girl, green and inexperienced. A mother never steers you wrong.
I shook my head and left the kitchen. Arguing was futile. I went upstairs to the modest but cozy house James and I bought two years ago with a mortgage, lay on the bed and closed my eyes. Exhaustion weighed heavily on melectures, marking, constant nagging from Margaret.
That evening James came home, tired but smiling. Guess what? Theyve made me lead designer on a new project! he announced, planting a kiss on me.
Congratulations, love! I replied, genuinely happy for him.
James, what project? How much will they pay? Margaret instantly chimed in.
Its a highend residential development, James said, buoyant. The salary will go up.
What amount? she pressed.
James winced. Does it matter? Were fine.
Fine? What about the mortgage? The car? Your old clunker is falling apart! Margaret ranted. Look at Sarahs son
I’m not Sarahs son, James cut in. Can we drop it? Im hungry.
During dinner Margaret kept lecturing. James mostly kept quiet, while a slow swell of irritation built inside me. After the meal, alone in the bedroom, I finally snapped.
James, I cant take this any longer. Your mother interferes with your work, our plans, our life! When is she leaving?
Emma, she just wants whats best, he sighed. You know shes always like that.
Exactly. Its one thing when she visits on weekends, another when she lives with us full time!
Its temporary, he tried to reassure me. Shes renovating her flat.
How long does a onebedroom flat need renovating? A month already!
Your mother likes everything perfect. Bear with it a little longer, OK?
I nodded. What else could I do? I couldnt kick her out, but my patience was wearing thin.
The next morning, as I was getting ready for work, Margaret appeared in the bedroom doorway.
Emma, we need to talk, she said, perching on the edge of the bed.
Im in a rush. Maybe later? I tried to dodge.
No, its important, she insisted. I think you should quit your job.
What? Why?
To have children! You cant keep postponing forever. I talked to James yesterday; he also wants a baby.
James? My heart hammered. He said that?
Not directly, she stammered. But I can see it. He wants a son!
I set my hairbrush down and faced her. Margaret, I appreciate your concern, truly. But James and I have already decided to wait three years. It isnt the right time now.
Not the right time? When will it be? When youre forty? I was your age and
I know, I interjected. You raised James when you were my age. Times have changed.
Exactly! Once families were everything; now everyone chases a career! What about children? Oh, the youth today!
I glanced at the clock. I must go. Well finish this tonight with James.
The day flew bylectures, student consultations, a departmental meeting. I barely thought about Margarets ultimatum, but on the way home a worry nagged at me: what if shes right? What if James really does want a child now but wont say it for fear of upsetting me?
We got home to a surprise. Margaret had laid a festive spread on the sofa.
Whats this? James asked, slipping off his shoes.
Its a family council! she declared cheerfully.
My stomach twisted. I sensed the conversation that was about to unfold and dreaded it.
She poured wine into glasses and announced, I have news! I spoke to Gillian Thompson, and she wants to take James into her firm!
James choked on his glass. Mum, what?
Your new job! Margaret beamed. Gillian runs a large construction company and wants you as head of the design department. Double the salary!
What department? James looked bewildered.
The design department, of course! Youre an architect! she gushed, handing him a printed brochure.
James pushed the papers away. Im happy where I am.
But James, this is a golden opportunity! Margaret pressed, her voice rising. How will you raise kids on your current pay?
We have no children yet, James reminded her.
Exactly! Soon youll have them, and youll need more money. Emma is even thinking of quitting her job, Margaret added, eyes widening.
What? I never said that! I exclaimed. Im not quitting!
We discussed it this morning! she claimed, feigning surprise. You said youd consider my offer!
I said wed talk about it tonight, I retorted. And Im not leaving my post. Weve agreed to wait three years before having kids.
James nodded silently, but his clenched fists told me he was upset. Was Margaret right? Did he really want a child now?
Three years? Youre already thirty! In three years youll be thirtythreedangerous! Margaret shouted.
People have children after thirty all the time, James tried to reason. Were not crazy.
Its wrong! Margaret insisted. I had James at twentytwo and it was perfect. I just want the best for you both.
We understand, Mum, James said gently but firmly. But this is our life and our decision.
Yes, your life! she continued. Your career isnt everything. Family is.
I took a deep breath. Margaret, I want both a successful career and, someday, children. Just not now.
Dinner ended on a sour note. Margaret retreated to her room, James stared at his plate, and I whispered, James, do you really want a baby now?
He looked up. No, Emma. Weve agreed on three years. I just feel torn by your mother.
Maybe we should talk to her directly, I suggested.
I will, he promised. Tomorrow. Tonight she wont listen.
The next day Margaret behaved as if nothing had happened, asking about my plans and never mentioning yesterdays argument. I wasnt sure whether to be relieved or uneasy.
That evening, returning from work, I found her at the computer, typing furiously.
Good evening, I said. What are you doing?
Oh, Emma! she jumped, quickly closing the browser. Just writing to a friend.
I caught the page title: How to convince your children to have grandchildren. I sighed. Margaret, we need to talk.
About what, dear? she feigned innocence.
About you trying to control our lives, I said flatly.
Control? Im helping! Im a mother! she protested.
Youre Jamess mother, not mine, I replied. Were adults and make our own choices.
She muttered, A mother always knows best. I replied, Perhaps, but the decisions belong to us.
Just then James entered, looking rattled. Whats going on? he asked.
My director called, he said, sitting down. Someone asked about my salary and prospects.
What? I was stunned. Who?
We both turned to Margaret, who suddenly seemed fascinated by the tablecloth pattern. Mum? James asked, doubtful.
I had to check that youre doing well, she said, hands waving. I called his office.
You called my boss? James exclaimed. Thats crossing a line.
Im your mother! she cried. There are no lines between us!
There should be, James replied calmly, fists clenched. We have a right to a private life.
Private life from your mother? she gasped. Ive raised you my entire life!
Yes, Mum, thats exactly what I mean, James said, firm. Respect our decisions. Well have children in three years, and I wont change jobs just because you think I should earn more. I love what I do.
But I want whats best for you! she wailed.
I know, Mum. But best is what we decide, not what you imagine, James said, hugging her shoulder. I love you, but we need space to live our own lives.
She burst into tears. I just dont want you to make mistakes!
Even if theyre mistakes, theyre ours, James answered softly. We have to live with them.
Silence fell. I looked at James with gratitude; at last he had said what hed been holding back.
Shall we have some tea? I suggested, trying to ease the tension.
Tea sounds wonderful, James agreed. Margaret nodded, still upset but beginning to understand.
The following morning Margaret announced that her flat was finally ready and she was moving back. I wasnt sure whether to feel relieved or sorry. Part of me missed the constant interference; another part felt sorry for a woman who truly believed she was doing the right thing.
Margaret, youre always welcome to visit, I said as she left. Just dont meddle in our lives.
She smiled, I get it, Emma. I only ever wanted the best for you. She hugged me, and for the first time in ages I felt a genuine connection.
When she drove away the house fell quiet. James and I savoured the peace, finally free to make our own choices. We planned, dreamed, and, as wed agreed, three years later we welcomed our first child. Margaret had to wait a little longer, but when she finally cradled our newborn, her eyes lit up.
Shes beautiful, she whispered, gazing at our baby. You did the right thing.
James and I exchanged a look. It seemed Margaret finally understood what respecting anothers choice truly meant. Our family now gathers often; Margaret visits, plays with the baby, but no longer tries to steer our every move. Shes learned to listen.
One afternoon, over tea, she said, Ive learned a lot from you both. I used to think a mother always knows best. Now I see that best is when each person decides their own path.
Your concern meant a lot to us, Mum, James smiled. We value it.
Indeed, I added. What matters isnt what we wanted, but what we achieved together. Weve built a lovely family.
