З життя
Let Igor Go on Vacation While You Get Back to Work,” Said My Mother-in-Law
Let Oliver take the holidayyou should be going back to work, snapped the mother-in-law.
When Charlotte heard the jingle of keys in the lock, her heart sank. She knew the sharp click of those heels down the hallway better than the rhythm of her own pulse. Eight months pregnant, every movement was an ordeal, and now she had to face the woman she feared more than childbirth itself. The door swung open, and in stormed Evelyn Cartera whirlwind of criticism and disapproval.
What is this? Evelyn barked instead of a greeting. Why does my daughter-in-law look so miserable?
The last thing Charlotte wanted was her mother-in-laws unexpected visit. She had planned to rest that afternoonthe weight in her womb demanded constant breaks. Even simple chores had become endurance tests.
Finally, her maternity leave had granted some relief, but those plans shattered in an instant.
Welcome, Evelyn, Charlotte murmured, stepping aside.
Wheres my Oliver? Evelyn scanned the room with hawkish eyes.
At work, Charlotte replied evenly. Providing for us and the baby.
Cant you manage on your own? Evelyn dropped her heavy suitcases with a thud, nearly knocking Charlotte off balance as she marched inside. Youre a grown womansoon to be a mother! Act like it!
Once inside, Evelyn inspected every corner like a drill sergeant. Charlottes stomach tightened.
Is there a reason for your visit? she asked cautiously. Did you forget something?
Evelyn turned, eyebrows raised. Im moving in.
Charlottes knees nearly buckled.
Buthow? she stammered.
That insufferable man I was renting fromIve had enough! Evelyn snapped, irritation flashing in her eyes. Couldnt stand his cheek another day. Packed up and left. My husbands flat is tied up in paperwork, so Ill stay here for now.
The explanation only deepened Charlottes dread. Yes, their home was spaciousbut did that give Evelyn the right to barge in uninvited?
She wanted to argue, but exhaustion won. Weakly, she retreated to the bedroom to wait for Oliver.
When Oliver returned, little changed. He pitied his motherdespite her temper, shed raised him, and he couldnt turn her away. Charlotte swallowed her frustration, understanding his loyalty. Maybe Evelyn would help around the house?
That hope faded fast. Within days, Evelyn had seized control of the household. Oliver worked long hours, leaving Charlotte to bear the brunt of her mother-in-laws demands.
And demands were endless. Nothing Charlotte did pleased Evelynunwashed floors, crumbs on the table, even a single unrinsed cup drew scorn.
Evelyn, Charlotte sighed, weariness heavy in her voice, the baby makes bending difficult. My back aches, my feet swell
Oh, spare me the excuses! Evelyn folded her arms. Women have always carried the load. Pregnancy doesnt change that! I raised a sonyouve much to learn!
Charlotte bit her tongue. Stress wasnt good for the baby, so she avoided conflict.
One weekday, with Oliver at work, groceries ran low. Charlotte hesitated before asking Evelyn for help.
Fine, Ill come, Evelyn sniffed. Someone has to make sure you dont mess it up.
Thank you Charlotte wouldve preferred going alone, but in her state, even shopping was daunting.
The market trip passed without incidentaside from Evelyns constant griping.
Hurry up! Evelyn snapped as they left. Take the bags and lets go. Enough dawdling.
Charlotte blinked. Take the bags?
Evelyn, she ventured timidly, could you help? I shouldnt strain
Strain? Evelyn mocked. Its barely anything! Carry them yourself!
Charlotte obeyed. But after a few steps, dizziness struck. The weight was too much.
II dont feel well she gasped.
Evelyn barely glanced over. Cant even manage bags now?
A stranger rushed to Charlottes side. Miss! Are you alright? Should I call a doctor?
No, Ill be fine, Charlotte waved him off.
Women these days, Evelyn muttered. Useless.
Luckily, Charlotte recovered quickly. Evelyn grudgingly took some bags, and they made it home.
When Oliver heard what happened, he raced back.
My darling, he murmured, holding Charlottes hand, why didnt you wait for me? Id have gone myself!
I thought I could manage, she whispered. You work so hardI wanted to help.
Why didnt you ask Mum?
Charlotte closed her eyes. I didnt want to say but Evelyn made me carry everything.
Oliver froze.
Mum? he whispered.
And when I nearly fainted, Charlottes voice trembled, she just walked away.
Silence fell. Tears spilled down Charlottes cheeks.
Ill handle this, Oliver said firmly. Rest, love.
He stood and marched to Evelyns room.
Charlotte couldnt hear their argument, but raised voices carried. She prayed Evelyn would back offor at least soften.
Then came the joyous daytheir daughter, Lily, was born. Oliver wept holding her, and Charlottes heart swelled. A new chapter had begun.
But reality wasnt so kind. Motherhood was exhausting. Lily cried most nights, leaving Charlotte sleepless. Some days, hours of rocking did nothing to soothe her.
And you call yourself a mother? Evelyn sneered, even now.
If anything, Olivers confrontation worsened things. Evelyns jabs grew sharper, her help nonexistent. Shed scold Charlotte, then vanish, leaving her alone with the baby.
Then, one evening, as Charlotte finally settled Lily and sat down to eat, Oliver returnedsilent, grim. He shut the bedroom door. Something was wrong.
I lost my job, he said flatly.
Her shoulders slumped. For a minute, neither spoke. Life was hard enoughthis was crushing.
Then Lily wailed. Charlotte forced herself up. Duty called, despite the blow.
Ill figure something out, Oliver said.
I know, she smiled weakly and kissed him.
The next day, they strategizeduntil Evelyn interrupted.
Heard you making plans, she scoffed. Why must my son do all the work? Wont you lift a finger?
Charlotte stared. Even Oliver looked stunned.
What do you mean? Charlotte asked.
Isnt it obvious? Evelyn crossed her arms. Let Oliver take the holidayyou should be going back to work.
Charlottes breath caught. Lily needed her constantlyshe was drained, barely holding on. And Evelyn dared say this?
Her heart plummeted. She fought back tears, bracing for another scolding.
But Oliver snapped.
Mum, how can you say that?! he roared. How dare you treat Charlotte this way?!
Evelyn gaped. She hadnt expected defiance from her son.
Oliver? she sputtered. Youre defending her? Shes leeching off you! Does nothing!
Shes raising my child! Oliver shot back. Works harder than either of us! Cooking, cleaning, caring for Lilywhile you just nag and belittle her!
He took a breath, steadying himself.
Youre the one doing nothing, Mum. You make my wife miserableover your own granddaughter!
Im looking out for you! Evelyn cried.
Then stop hurting Charlotte, Oliver said coldly. Or leave.
Evelyns jaw dropped. Then her face darkened.
Fine! Ill go! she hissed.
Good, Oliver said.
Evelyn spent days hunting for a flat, still lashing out at Charlotte. But Oliver shielded his wife now, keeping Evelyn at bay.
I cant stand you! Evelyn finally declared. Id rather live with that wretched landlord!
No ones stopping you, Oliver said.
Ungrateful child! she spat.
The next day, she left. The house felt lighter instantly. Oliver found new work; Charlotte grew more confident with Lily. He helped whenever he could.
They never heard from Evelyn again. She vanished, nursing her grudge. But neither mourned her absence.
Some family ties arent worth keepingespecially when peace is the real blessing.
A Parent’s Love: Family Gatherings, Christmas Surprises, and a Lesson in Protectiveness on a Winter’s Day
Parental Love Mum always said, Children are the flowers of life, shed laugh, and Dad would grin and add, Flowers...
Igor Never Returned From His Holiday: When Your Husband Disappears by the Seaside, a Wife’s Search, Tense Family Reunion, and the Painful Truth That Comes Home
Since his holiday, Stanley never came back Hasnt your husband written or called yet? Not a word, Vera, not after...
“Oh, You Drive Me Mad!… I Eat Wrong, I Dress Wrong, I Do Everything Wrong!”—Pavel’s Voice Broke Into a Shout. “You Can’t Do Anything Right!… Can’t Even Earn a Decent Living… And You’re No Help Around the House, Ever!”—Marina Sobbed, “…And There Are No Children…” She Whispered. Belka, the Ten-Year-Old Ginger-and-White Cat, Watched Silently from Atop the Cupboard as Another Family “Tragedy” Unfolded. She Knew, Even Felt, That Mum and Dad Loved Each Other Dearly—So Why Say Such Hurtful Things? Mum Ran Off Crying, Dad Chain-Smoked by the Window, and Belka Thought to Herself: “What This Home Needs Is Happiness, And Happiness Means Kids… Somehow, We Need to Find Children…” Belka Herself Couldn’t Have Kittens—She’d Been Neutered Long Ago. As for Mum, The Doctors Said It Was Possible, But Something Never Quite Worked Out… The Next Morning, After Mum and Dad Left for Work, Belka Squeezed Out the Window and Went to See Her Neighbour, Whiskers, for Advice. “Why On Earth Would You Want Kids?” Sniffed Whiskers. “Ours Always Come Over—Hide From Them If You Can! They Smear My Muzzle With Lipstick Or Squeeze Me ‘Til I Can’t Breathe!” Belka Sighed, “We Need Proper Children… But Where On Earth Do We Get Them?” “Well… That Stray Molly on the Street Just Had Five… Take Your Pick…” Whiskers Shrugged. On Her Own Daring, Belka Tiptoed Balcony to Balcony Down to the Street, Squeezed Through The Bars of a Basement Window, and Called Out, “Molly, Could You Come Here for Just a Moment?” From Deep Within the Cellar Came the Desperate Squeaking of Kittens. Belka Cautiously Approached. Underneath the Heater, Five Blind, Mismatched Kittens Searched The Air, Wailing Hungrily. Molly Hadn’t Been There for At Least Three Days. The Babies Were Starving… Feeling She Might Cry, Belka Carefully Carried Each Kitten to the Entrance of Her Building. Lying Beside the Screeching, Hungry Bunch, She Waited Anxiously for Mum and Dad to Come Home. When Pavel and Marina Returned from Work, They Were Astonished—There Was Belka, Never Before Out Alone, Being Nursed by Five Noisy Kittens. “How on Earth Did This Happen?” Pavel Stammered. “It’s a Miracle…” Whispered Marina. They Scooped Up Belka and the Kittens and Rushed Inside. As Pavel Watched Their Purring Cat in a Box Full of Babies, He Asked, “So… What Are We Going To Do With Them?” “I’ll Hand-Feed Them… When They’re Grown, We’ll Find Them Homes… I’ll Call My Friends,” Whispered Marina. Three Months Later, Still Stunned By The Miracle, Marina Sat Stroking Her Feline Clan, Repeating to Herself, “This Can’t Be Real… This Can’t Happen…” And Soon After, She and Pavel Wept for Joy, Laughing and Embracing, “I’m So Glad We Finished Building This House!” “Yes! Perfect for a Child to Play Outside!” “And the Kittens Can All Run Around!” “There’s Room for Everyone!” “I Love You!” “Oh, I Love You Even More!” Wise Old Belka Wiped Away a Tear—Life Was Finally Coming Together…
Im so fed up with you! Nothing I do is right for you! The way I eat, what I wearits...
Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans
– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...
Mother-in-Law Anna Peters was sitting in her kitchen, watching the milk quietly simmering on the stove. She had forgotten to stir it three times already, each time remembering too late: the milk would froth, spill over, and she would clean the stove irritably with a cloth. In those moments she felt it keenly: it wasn’t really about the milk. Ever since her second grandchild was born, everything in the family seemed to derail. Her daughter grew tired, thinner, and quieter. Her son-in-law came home late, ate in silence, sometimes heading straight to the bedroom. Anna saw this and thought: how can you just leave a woman to cope alone? She spoke up. At first gently, then more sharply. First to her daughter, then to her son-in-law. And then she noticed something strange: after she spoke, the house didn’t feel lighter, but heavier. Her daughter defended her husband, he grew gloomier, and Anna returned home with a sinking feeling that once again, she hadn’t done things right. That day she went to see their vicar, not for advice, but because there was nowhere else to go with this feeling. “I suppose I’m just not a good person,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I always do things wrong.” The vicar was sitting at his desk, writing. He set his pen aside. “Why do you think that?” Anna shrugged. “I tried to help. Instead, I only seem to make everyone angry.” He looked at her attentively, but without judgment. “You’re not a bad person. You’re just exhausted. And very anxious.” She sighed. That rang true. “I’m so worried for my daughter,” she said. “She’s so different since the baby. And him…” She waved a hand. “It’s like he doesn’t even notice.” “Do you notice what he does?” the vicar asked. Anna thought for a moment. She remembered how, last week, he washed the dishes late at night when he thought no one saw. How on Sunday he took the pram out for a walk, even though he looked as if he’d rather collapse into bed. “He does help… I suppose,” she replied doubtfully. “But not the way he should.” “And what way is that?” the vicar asked gently. Anna wanted to reply at once, but realised she didn’t know. She could only think: more, better, more attentively. But what, exactly, was hard to explain. “I just want things to be easier for her,” she said. “Then say that,” the vicar replied quietly. “Not to him, but to yourself.” She looked at him. “What do you mean?” “I mean you’re not fighting for your daughter — you’re fighting her husband. And fighting means being tense. That exhausts everyone: you, and them.” Anna was silent for a long while. Then she asked, “So what should I do? Pretend everything’s fine?” “No,” he replied. “Just do what helps. Not words, but actions. And not against someone, but for someone.” On her way home, she thought over his words. Remembered how, when her daughter was a little girl, she would just sit beside her quietly if she cried — never lecturing. Why was it different now? The next day, she arrived unannounced. She brought soup. Her daughter was surprised; her son-in-law embarrassed. “I won’t stay long,” Anna said. “Just wanted to help.” She watched the children while her daughter slept. Left quietly, without a word about how hard things were, or what they ought to do. The next week, she came again. And again, the week after. She still noticed that her son-in-law was far from perfect. But she began to see other things: the way he gently picked up the baby, how at night he tucked a blanket around her daughter when he thought no one was looking. One day, in the kitchen, she couldn’t help herself and asked him, “Is it hard for you right now?” He looked startled, as if no one had ever asked before. “It’s hard,” he answered, after a pause. “Very.” And nothing more. But something sharp in the air between them was gone. Anna realised she’d been waiting for him to change. But it needed to start with her. She stopped discussing him with her daughter. When her daughter complained, she didn’t say “I told you so.” She just listened. Sometimes she took the children to give her daughter a break. Sometimes she called her son-in-law to ask how things were. It wasn’t easy. It was much easier to stay angry. But gradually, the house grew quieter. Not better, not perfect — just quieter. Free of endless tension. One day her daughter said, “Mum, thank you for being with us now, not against us.” Anna thought about those words for a long time. She understood something simple: reconciliation doesn’t come from someone admitting they’re wrong. It comes when someone is willing to stop fighting first. She still wanted her son-in-law to be more attentive. That wish hadn’t gone away. But alongside it lived something more important: for her family to have peace. And every time the old feeling — frustration, resentment, the urge to criticise — rose up, she asked herself: Do I want to be right, or do I want to make things easier for them? Almost always, the answer showed her what to do next.
Mother-in-Law Margaret Williams sat in the kitchen, her eyes resting on the saucepan of milk gently simmering on the hob....
Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans
– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...
“My Grandchildren Only See Fresh Fruit Once a Month, But She Buys Expensive Food for Her Cats!”: My Daughter-in-Law Accuses Me of Being Cold-Hearted for Putting My Pets First, but I Won’t Let Her Guilt Me into Supporting Their Growing Family
My grandchildren only see fresh fruit once a month, yet she spends a fortune on fancy cat food, my daughter-in-law...
Oxana, Are You Busy? – A Festive New Year’s Eve Tale of Family, Holiday Hustle, a Mishap in the Snow, and an Unexpected Encounter with a Doctor That Changed Everything
Annie, are you busy? her mum calls, poking her head through the door to her daughters room. Just a second,...