Everyone Loves Their Grandchildren, But…

My second son had just arrived, and we were barely settled in at the hospital when the flock of delighted relatives descended for a visit. The grandparents had beaming faces, everyone was brimming with well-wishes for health, happiness, and all good things under the sun.

My mother-in-law and father-in-law have a three-bedroom flat, my own mum and sister live in a spacious house, and yet, not a single soul seemed to wonder how all four of us would squeeze into our poky fifteen-metre room. Cosy, as the estate agents would saymeaning not at all.

My husband’s parents have a lovely place out in the countryside, with a vegetable patch and a little river burbling nearby. They left the city for the peace of the village and completely ignored all our subtle (and not-so-subtle) hints about swapping homes. Not even a polite, Maybe one day, dear.

My mother-in-laws only comment, ever, was: Were at our age, we hardly sleep, we each like our own room, and the big living rooms for watching telly and entertaining guests. Translation: you’re not moving in here, no matter how much you bat your eyelashes.

I suppose she imagines that the four of usplus a baby who operates on his own unique sleep schedulecan all kip peacefully together, like sardines in a tin, serenaded by the sound of baby wails.

All these thoughts must have flashed across my face, because after too many half-hearted congratulations, the relatives began to leave in droves, dispersing across England quicker than you could say nappy change.

After saying our farewells, I managed a melancholy smile at my husband and asked, So, when do you reckon well make it home, then?He squeezed my hand, glancing at our sleeping sonsone bundled and blissful, the other clutching my scarf and snuffling softly.

Home? he grinned, eyes tired and mischievous. I say we give it a go tonight. If it gets too wild, well pitch a tent between the cot and the kettle. Were pros at sardine-living by now.

Outside, the sun slipped under clouds, painting the citys rooftops with a gentle gold. I looked at our boysone foot already squirming out of his blanketand felt, astonishingly, lighter.

Maybe the house would always be small. Maybe the in-laws would never budge. But with him beside me, with our childrens laughter filling every available inch, I realized our little flat could stretch to fit all the loveand chaoswe could muster.

And as we wheeled our family out into the waiting evening, I whispered: Anywhere you are, thats home enough for me.