Connect with us

З життя

I’m at a Loss: My Son Always Stands by His Wife—Even When She’s in the Wrong!

Published

on

I havent the faintest idea what to do, says Margaret Maggie Thompson, sixty, voice trembling with tears. My son, Mike, alwaysabsolutely alwaysdefends his wife. No matter what happens, no matter what I say, he waves his hand and tells me, Mum, dont worry, Emma will sort it out. Shes not daft. He always finds an excuse for her, even when shes plainly in the wrong.

Emma, Maggies daughterinlaw, is only twentyeight. She and Mike are raising their eighteenmonthold son, Paul, in a modest twobedroom flat in Manchester that they bought on a mortgage. Emma is on maternity leave; Mike is the sole breadwinner. They live by the bookcareful with every pound, nothing extravagant, yet never short of what they need.

The problem is, Maggie cant stomach Emma.

When Mike first brought her home, I was stunned, Maggie recalls. Long, acrylic nails, a tattoo up her neck, a miniskirt that looked ready for the catwalk, heels that clicked like she was on a runway. And those lip colourobviously done on. I thought he was joking. How could my son seriously be dating someone so frivolous, to put it mildly?

A month later they were married. Even at the wedding, Maggie says, Emma turned headsleather skirt, glittery top, stagemakeup. Mike was beaming, and Maggie decided to stay silent, to keep her nose out of it.

At first she barely spoke to her daughterinlaw, phoning Mike a couple of times a month just to ask how they were getting on. Everything changed eighteen months ago, when Paul was born.

I turned up on the second day after they were discharged, Maggie says, eyes flashing. Emmas nails were fresh. I said, Emma, have you lost your mind? This is dangerous for a newborn! She shrugged, Dont worry, Ive got it under control. I went to Mike and he snapped, Mum, stay out of it. This isnt your business. And thats the way it always is. Everything I say is met with, Dont interfere.

Maggie tried to parent Emma with advice, snide remarks, reproaches. Emma met each with cold indifference; she never defended herself.

Id drop by, the house was a mess, and Id say, Emma, make something for the baby. Mike works. Shed reply, Mike doesnt eat that. What does he not eat? He ate it before! Shes just lazy. If she cooked properly, thered be soup and borscht on the table.

Maggie attempted to reason with her son, but Mike invariably jumped to his wifes defence.

Mum, stop nagging. Were fine. Emmas a good mother.

Good? Maggie exclaims, shaking her head. She never lifts her head from the phone! I havent seen her without a gadget for ages. She scrolls through Instagram even when the baby is in the room.

The last straw came on a playground.

I knocked on their door, nothing but silence. I figured they were out. I walked to the little park by the flat and saw Paul digging in the sandbox while Emma sat on a bench, eyes glued to her screen. I went closer and saw Mike standing by the fence. Suddenly the boy bolted toward me, grinned, shouted, Grandma! and ran onto the road! Its a quiet street, but you never know what could happen.

Thank heavens, Emma whispered, voice shaking, there were no cars at that moment. Maggie snatched Paul, ran to Emma, who was still staring at her phone as if in a trance. If you dont put that thing away right now, Ill smash it on the pavement! Are you a mother or what? Maggie demanded.

Emma sprang up, grabbed Paul, and fled. The infant wailed, reaching for Maggie, but Emma slammed the door shut and never opened it again.

I called Mike, told him the whole thing, Maggie continues, and he says, Mum, youve gone too far. Calm down. Emma can handle it. How can he say that when I saw it all with my own eyes? He wont believe me. Now neither of them answers my calls or opens the door. Its been a month. I have no idea what shes been feeding him, but I just want my grandson safe.

Maggie wonders: Maybe Mikes right. Maybe I should have kept quiet. But I cant stay silent when a childs safety is at stake. Im a mother, Im a grandmother.

Now she sits alone, phone switched off, a widow of her own voice. The son she raised stands forever on his wifes side, always.

Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Ваша e-mail адреса не оприлюднюватиметься. Обов’язкові поля позначені *

4 × один =

Також цікаво:

З життя5 секунд ago

I’m at a Loss: My Son Always Stands by His Wife—Even When She’s in the Wrong!

I havent the faintest idea what to do, says Margaret Maggie Thompson, sixty, voice trembling with tears. My son, Mike,...

З життя54 секунди ago

The Two Facets of Solitude

Charlotte Whitfield stood before the bathroom mirror, biting the lower lip. Her fingers nervously tucked a stray lock of hair...

З життя59 хвилин ago

The Nurse’s Secret Kiss with the Charming CEO in a Coma for Three Years Takes an Unexpected Turn When He Awakens and Embraces Her!

2a.m., StThomas Hospital, London the corridors are dead quiet, almost oppressive. The only sounds are the steady thump of the...

З життя1 годину ago

He Didn’t Write It

Yesterday morning I turned my phone up to the loudest setting, just in case. Deep down I knew he wouldnt...

З життя2 години ago

A Week After We Left, Our Neighbours Returned Last on the Ferry from their Holiday Cottage – But They Came Back Without Their Enormous, Grey Bandit of a Cat Missing His Right Ear!

Im James Harper, and a week after wed left the weekend cottage, the neighbours finally drifted back on the last...

З життя2 години ago

Who If Not Me?

Hey love, youve got to hear this one about the old block down in the suburbs of Manchester, the little...

З життя24 години ago

Ice Hazard: Navigating Treacherous Winter Conditions

I still recall the bitter cold that lay over the little market town of Whitby that winter, the way the...

З життя24 години ago

When Autumn Came and Vladimir Fell Ill, Everything Changed: The Neighbours Called Out, “Andrew, Come Quick – Your Dad Is Down and Can’t Get Up!

When autumn slipped over the thatched cottages of Ashford, Arthur fell ill and the world seemed to tilt. A rusted...