I dont know why I bothered dragging the children to my mother-in-laws birthday party when she didnt even acknowledge us.
That day, my husband was called into work at the last minute, so I had to take the children by myself to his mothers celebration. We had to take the bus. Before leaving home, Id rung and asked someone to pick us up from the bus stop at three oclock and give us a lift to her house.
When the bus pulled in and we got off, there was no one waiting. It was raining heavily, a cold, miserable sort of rain, and I had my two sons, a bag full of things, and a rather weighty present to haul along. I pulled my phone out and dialled my mother-in-law, but she didnt answer. I tried my husband next, but he was busy and couldnt pick up.
It was a bit embarrassing, as my boys were already tired and starting to grumble: they wanted something to eat and drink, and to see their grandmother as soon as possible. My mother-in-laws house was still a good four miles away. There I was, stranded at the village bus stop, with nothing ahead but a muddy lane. What irritated me most was that the rain was just getting worse, with no sign of letting up. I could hardly believe it.
We waited in the bus shelter for half an hour, still clinging to the hope that a car would turn up and whisk us to a warm house and a hot meal. After an hour, I realised no one was coming, so I called a cab.
Because my mother-in-law lives in a rather remote area, the taxi had to come from the nearest town. I ended up forking out a fair bit of pounds for the fare.
As we pulled up outside her house, a thought crossed my mind: Should I just turn round and go home? Or go inside and look my husbands mother in the eye? I settled on the latter.
I entered the house with the boys.
Oh, its you? my mother-in-law said, spotting us in the doorway. How on earth did you get here?
By taxi, believe it or not! By taxi! I replied, not hiding my annoyance.
A taxi? Whatever for? she asked, feigning surprise. I noticed a sly smile flicker across her face before she quickly disguised it.
Through the window, I could see a row of parked cars clearly, other guests hadnt been left out in the rain. I was upset and felt insulted, struggling to keep my thoughts to myself. Instead, I turned to my mother-in-law:
I did ring, you know, but you didnt pick up. Why not?
I must have misplaced my phone somewhere, she answered.
But I asked you before we set off. You promised thered be a car at the bus stop.
My memorys been dreadful lately. Perhaps I forgot, she replied.
She then turned and breezed off to her guests without so much as a glance at her grandsons. But when my sister-in-law turned up with her own children, their grandmother rushed to greet them, leaving me and the boys hovering awkwardly with nowhere to sit.
It finally dawns on me: neither I nor my sons matter to her. We stuck around for a while, no one even offered us a cup of tea, then I called for another cab. I gathered up my children and left for home, leaving the birthday present on her doorstep. We didnt say goodbye to the rest of the family, since no one had greeted us in the first place.
Back in the flat, my mother-in-law rang, but I let it ring out and didnt answer.
