Hey, you wont believe what happened to me today.
So Id just woken up, still in my pyjamas, when suddenly theres a knock at the door. Its my mother-in-law, Margaret, standing there grinning with a huge bag of groceries. Morning, Emily, she says, Blimey, nearly lunchtime and youre still in bed?
I mumbled a hello, desperately tugging my top down and trying to shake off the sleep. Hello, Mrs. Thompson. Youre early. Olivers at work, I said.
Oh, I know Olivers not here, she laughs, giving me that look. But surely I dont need permission to come into my own flat? Before I can even protest, she breezes past me, kicks off her shoes, and heads straight for the kitchen.
Margaret clocks the plates and mugs in the sink and turns to stare at me in horror. Emily, youre inviting all sorts with this mess! Dont you care about keeping the place tidy?
Thats just breakfast things, I muttered, Oliver dashed off to work and Ive not got round to it yet.
Its not on, leaving dirty dishes out. Dont tell me your mother never taught you?
She did! Its just Ive had a mad week with work, havent had a minute to myself. Im working from home, remember?
But youre at home surely you can squeeze in a bit of housework. Anyway, what have you been feeding my son?
She starts rummaging through the fridge, pulling out a tupperware and popping the lid. Whats this? Chicken patties? Did you put garlic in these?
Yeah, I made those yesterday. Oliver liked them.
But you know garlic gives him heartburn. And chicken? You really should make them with beef, love. Dont try to cut corners when it comes to food.
I just about managed not to burst out crying with frustration. He said he liked them I whispered.
She moves on and lifts the lid of my stockpot. This soups not fresh, is it? Food should be cooked new every day, just in small portions.
I cooked that Tuesday night. Its still fine.
Well, no one decent eats two-day-old soup. You should make a bit every day instead. By the way, this cheese and ham youve got is dreadful. Theres a better brand with a green label Ill send you pictures, get that next time. Shall I help you cook?
No, thank you, I can manage, I muttered.
She shrugged. If youre sure! Anyway, Im dashing off. Say hi to Oliver from me. Actually, Ill ring him myself.
And just like that, off she went. I just stood there, staring at the kitchen. Id never had anyone dig through my fridge or show up unannounced like that before. Were not kids were grown adults for crying out loud! Olivers thirty and is a lecturer in English literature, and I only just managed to get my job as an editorial assistant, which still blows my mind.
My mum raised me on her own and never had much faith in me. She always said I was plain and wouldnt amount to much, and if I got married, I should do everything I could to cling on to it. Boys never really noticed me, so I came to believe what she said and just did my own thing.
I first met Oliver on the bus. My Oyster card wouldnt work, the queue behind me was muttering and getting impatient, and while I tried to fish out my debit card, he paid my fare. That tiny gesture won me over immediately. I offered to pay him back, but he laughed it off, so I invited him for coffee after the journey we were heading in the same direction. We had a great time, swapped numbers, and after a few more dates, I was totally smitten. I honestly couldnt believe someone so clever and lovely was interested in me. Remembering Mums warnings, I held on for dear life.
We got together and didnt take too long to tie the knot. I met Margaret straight away she was retired from the NHS, a surgeon with a wicked sense of humour, and I actually thought she was great at first. But, oh boy, when it came to planning the wedding, she revealed her true colours: she picked the venue, vetted the guestlist, and even had final say on the suits and dresses. I didnt dare object I was terrified of upsetting her.
Now here we are, two weeks after the wedding, and shes started popping round with hardly any warning, bringing food and critiquing my housekeeping. When Oliver got home, I spilled everything in a rush. He just rubbed his forehead and sighed.
Em, I had three lectures today, the students were a nightmare. Its just Mum worrying about us, thats all.
She said its her flat and she can come whenever she likes. Is she just going to keep doing this?
He shrugged. Its technically her mothers flat, my nans. I cant tell her not to come in. I lived here alone for years and shes used to it. Honestly, popping in for a cuppa isnt the end of the world. Weve got to learn to compromise. Whats for dinner?
Its not just me who needs to compromise though, I snapped. Pasta and meat sauce. Go wash your hands and sit down.
But Margaret didnt just pop round now and then it turned into every other day, always unannounced. Shed bring shopping bags of food, plonk her tupperware all over the counter, open the fridge and give a running commentary:
This soups old. Store-bought pancakes, really? Make them yourself next time. That rice is lumpy thatll upset your stomach. Where did you get this beef? You should go to the farmers market instead. And look at this yogurt far too much sugar.
A couple of times I bit my tongue, but eventually I started to protest. She just ignored me. Her favourite line? I know best I was a doctor, remember.
Oliver wouldnt have it. Mums just looking out for us, Em. Dont make it a drama.
How can you not see its a problem? Its our home we should have the final say. And if thats not possible, maybe we should just get a mortgage and find our own place.
Thatd be silly, buying a flat when we already have one. Seriously, dont be dramatic.
I realised right then he was never going to stick up for me. I loved Oliver to bits, but I wasnt sure I could keep doing this living with the constant criticism, never feeling like my own person in my own home, being inspected like a child. This wasnt the marriage I imagined.
One weekday I had off and popped out for errands, only to come back and find Margaret in my kitchen, apron on, happily stirring a pot. She looked up with a big smile.
Emily, Im in charge today. Oliver told me youd be out all day, so I thought Id make his favourite stuffed cabbage. I know you dont know how to make those.
Honestly, Margaret, this takes the biscuit! I exploded. Why didnt you call first? Or am I just invisible to you? You strut in and do whatever you want! I never asked you to come! Yes, it might be your flat but were a separate family and you
I trailed off, suddenly gasping for breath.
I dont feel well
Oh, Emily, dear! she cried, dashing towards me just in time as my knees buckled.
Next thing I knew, I was lying on the sofa, Margaret waving a bottle of smelling salts under my nose.
When I was pregnant with Oliver, I used to faint from nerves too. Are you alright? How far along are you?
How did you know? I whispered. Eight weeks. I went to the doctor today. Oliver doesnt know yet. I wanted to tell him tonight then you showed up with your stuffed cabbage Sorry I snapped.
She took my hand, looking guilty. And sorry from me as well. Ive been popping in unannounced and its not fair. Im a doctor I just knew, you know? Actually, Emily Oliver is all I have. After his dad also a surgeon died suddenly from heart trouble, its just been the two of us. If I didnt have him, Id have nothing left. Hes my whole world. I fuss, but only because I love him so much. I went too far I know. He loves you, Emily, and thats the only reason I agreed to the marriage. Is that your suitcase over there?
I nodded at my bag in the corner, a lump in my throat.
Lets not overreact, love. Ill do my best to give you some space but Ill never stop making Oliver his favourite stuffed cabbage now and then! She laughed through her tears.
Thats fine. Nobody can stop me making him his favourite chicken and mash, I teased back.
Hah, its a deal then. Look, Ive sorted lunch. You get your feet up. Will you tell Oliver about the baby tonight?
I will, I promise.
I might not be a perfect mother-in-law, Margaret smiled, but Ill be a bloody brilliant granny.
And well do our best to be good parents, I grinned.
Honestly, families are complicated but well muddle through.
