Last month, it was my sons birthday. I told him Id come as a guest.
I raised three boys. Anyone whos had four men in their home will know exactly what I mean. I still dont understand how a house can have no dinner ready, or things strewn about the place. Now, at 52, Ive always believed a woman should make a homecomfortable and safefor the man to return to. But I doubt my daughter-in-law thinks the same way.
My eldest son married two years ago, and nine months later, they had a daughter. He was 28 then, and his wife, just 20. Evelyn was still at university, but the eight-year gap between them didnt seem to trouble my son.
When she was expecting, Evelyn became quite difficult, always sending my son running to the shopsfirst apples in the morning, then an orange, then flowers. He never argued, always did as she asked. We thought things would change after the baby came, but they didnt.
She nursed the child for two months, and that was it. Then she told my son she was exhausted from sleepless nights and needed rest. Hes always been understanding, so he asked me to step in. Of course, I couldnt refuse.
While I looked after the baby, Evelyn spent her days at spas and salons, and when she came home, she couldnt even be bothered to cook dinner for my son returning from work. In the end, I stayed with their daughter the whole week. She 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. Evelyn was furious. I knew she wasnt yet capable on her own, so I visited from time to timebut what I saw displeased me. The house was a mess, the fridge empty.
She couldnt even be bothered to cook for her own child. Having raised three sons myself, such irresponsibility was beyond me. My son always had proper meals at home. Last month, on his birthday, I decided to visit, thinking surely Evelyn would have cooked something. Instead, she ordered pizza and sushi.
I cant fathom why my son tolerates a wife like this. I fear its because they never lived together before marriagehe never saw how she truly was. It must be hard for him, yet he stays silent, saying nothing to her.
Ive been thinking of a way to make her act like a proper wife and mother. My only worry is that my son might take offence. Last month, when I walked into their apartment and saw the birthday candles flickering over paper plates from the takeout boxes, something in me settled. I watched my son laugh as his daughter smeared cheese across his cheek, and Evelyn, for once, wasnt on her phoneshe was watching him, smiling like he hung the moon. I stayed quiet, helped clear the mess, and when I tucked the baby into her crib later, I saw the little handprints on the wall beside it, painted in soft colours. They hadnt been there before. I left without saying much, and on the bus home, I let myself cry. Maybe I dont need to fix anything after all. Maybe love isnt about the meals made or the floors sweptits about showing up, messy and tired, and staying anyway.
