З життя
Свекруха прийде, пограється з дитиною і піде щаслива, а я лишаюсь з роботою та усмішкою…
Сьогодні знову прийшла свекруха, погралася з дитиною — і пішла задоволена. А я — готуй, прибирай, усміхайся…
Коли прочитала статтю з назвою «Я не хочу сидіти з онуками по вирізних», зрозуміла: це ж про моє життя. Тема виявилася болюче знайомою — особливо для тих, хто опинився у ролі «господині дому з малечею і свекрухою в обіймах».
Моєму синові ще немає року. В нього є одна бабуся — мама мого чоловіка, Надія Іванівна. У минулому актриса театру, але з артистизмом і драмою в голосі досі. За будь-якої нагоди вона говорить, як сильно любить онука. «Я завжди поруч, завжди готова допомогти!» — звучить красиво, але на ділі… зовсім інакше.
Після виходу на пенсію у неї з’явилося багато вільного часу. Ось вона й приходить. Не щоб допомогти, не щоб дати мені перепочити — а «у гості». Причому завжди у вихідні, коли чоловік вдома. Йй подобається, щоб «усі були в зборі». Іноди приводить з собою свекра, але він людина окрема, живе своїм життям, навіть сплять вони у різних кімнатах.
Уявіть: малеча ридає, зубки ріжуться, живіт болить, я на нервах, не спала вже другу ніч, виглядаю, як привид. А мені кажуть: «Допомога їде!» — і цією «допомогою» виявляється виштукована Надія Іванівна з іграшками й пакетиком пастили. Сідає в улюблене крісло, бере онука на руки, фоткається, цілує, сміється. Все б нічого, але я маю бути не просто гостинною господинею — я муся зустрічати її з гарячим обідом, чистим будинком, ідеальною виразкою.
Спочатку мила підлогу перед її візитом, пекла торт, варила борщ, робила салат. Потім зрозуміла — не витримую. Стала перекладати частину на чоловіка. А він, бідолашний, після робочого тижня мріє лише про тишу. Але «мама приїде» — і все. Кидай відпочинок, мий ванну, витирай пил, витирай дитині ніс.
Свекруха жодного разу не прийшла, щоб просто сказати: «Відпочинь, я посиджу з малим, іди полежи». Ні. Вона приходить розважитися. Пограла — і пішла. Якщо їй стає нудно — бере сумку й виходить. Іноди й півгодини не просидить. А в мене залишається гора посуду, втомлена дитина — і жодного полегшення. Зате сусіди потім хвалять: «Оце бабуся! Завжди поруч, така турботлива». Так-так… поруч — але не з тим, з ким треба.
Радили мені: «Не готуй. Не прибирай. Хай бачить, як є». Але спробуйте самі — коли вона осудливо дивиться на кожну порошинку, на немиті тарілки. Чоловік те ж питає: «Ну що, не можна маму раз на тиждень прийняти?»
А я почуваюся винною. Ніби я егоїстка. Ніби я не хочу, щоб у моєї дитини була бабуся. Але чи це допомога? Це демонстрація любові — напоказ. Синочок, онуча, сім’я! А потім — додому, до серіалів. Я лишаюся з брудними мисками, безсонними ночами й вигорілими нервами.
Справжня допомога — це коли бабуся забирає онука до себе. Коли справді дає тобі вихідний. А не влаштовує театр на твоїй кухні. Так, вона не зобов’язана. Але й я — не покоївка, щоб організовувати прийоми що-неділі. Я — мати. Втомлена, невиспана й ледве тримаюся на ногах. І поки всі навколо тІ так кожного разу, а ніхто, крім мене, не бачить справжньої ціни цих “ідеальних візитів”.
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