З життя
I Refused to Move My Mother into Our Flat and Am Now Left Feeling Guilty
I turned down my mothers request to move in with us, and I was left feeling guilty.
Dont you dare refuse your own mum! my mum declared, as if it were a law. I only need to stay a week while youre getting the flat refurbished. What, are you sorry about losing a few square metres for me?
Shed called three times that morning, each call more insistent than the last.
Mum, were as packed as a tin of sardines, I tried again, hoping the humour would slip through. Jack is sleeping on the sofa because Beatrice and Harry need their own room. Where would I put you? On the balcony?
I wasnt exaggerating. I have two teenage kids and a husband, Tom, whos been out of work for half a year. We live in a twobedroom council flat in a quiet suburb of Leeds. And I also have a mum in another town and a younger sister, Lucy, who has always been Mums favourite.
Oh, go on then, Mum switched to a flattering tone, and I felt my palms start to itch. Youll always find a place for mum, youre such a good housekeeper!
Id heard that tone since I was a child. It was the same voice Mum used when shed say:
Emily, youre grown enough to look after Lucy while I pop off to the café, alright?
I was ten then, Lucy was two. Instead of doing homework or playing with dolls, I truly sat with my little sister
Mum, I cant talk right now, I fibbed. My milks about to run out.
I hung up, poured myself a coffee, and knew Mum wouldnt let it go.
Sure enough, an hour later she called again, this time from a different angle.
Emily, love, you know Lucys getting married, dont you? Harrys a proper lad from a respectable family his parents run a dental practice! Imagine that. Of course theyll need their own place, you understand. I cant be a burden by staying with them!
That was the moment I realised the flatrenovation excuse was a red herring.
So theyll be living with you? I asked.
Yes.
How can you be a problem for me but not for them? the words slipped out before I could bite my tongue.
Nina! Mum gasped. What are you saying? Im your mother! I raised you, stayed up all night for you!
Ah, that raising business
Shed really looked after me when I turned fifteen, sending Lucy and me off to Granddads farm while she chased after a new boyfriend. Granddad would just shake his head:
Ah, girls, youve got a tough one for a mother
I tried to stay calm.
Mum, why not have Lucy and Harry rent a flat? Or perhaps his parents could help they do have a dental practice, after all.
Why would they waste money on rent when theres a gorgeous threebedroom flat available? Mum retorted. They need to save for a car, for kids! And you youre selfish, youre the one I always thought youd become! Ive known it all along!
That was the last straw. Id held on as long as I could, but I couldnt stay silent any longer.
Selfish? I shouted. Me? Mum, seriously? When I was sixteen I worked in a café just to help you out. When I gave up my graduation dress to buy Lucy a computer for school. When I handed over all our wedding savings to you and stepdad for that urgent operation that turned out to be a holiday abroad?
Emily, stop the tantrum! Mum snapped. You always exaggerate and play the victim!
Im not playing the victim; Im simply refusing to be one, I replied, dryly.
There was a pause on the other end while Mum mulled over my words.
What are you talking about? she finally said. Emily, pull yourself together!
Mum, I wont house you, I sighed. Not for a week, not for a day. Live with Lucy, find a flat, or ask Harrys parents for help. I have my own family, my own problems, and Im not going to finance yours any longer.
Youll regret this, Mum whined. When Im gone youll be weeping at my grave, begging for forgiveness! Too late then! Remember my words!
Those words had haunted me since childhood, making me cry, feel guilty, and once again fall for her pleas. But I was no longer a little girl. I said a dry goodbye and hung up.
A week passed. Mum stopped calling, and I almost believed it was over. How naïve I was!
On Saturday morning the phone rang. Seeing Lucys number flash on the screen, I felt a sudden dread, as if the heavens were about to open. And I was right.
Emily! Lucy sobbed into the receiver. What have you done? Harrys left! Hes gone because of you!
Lucy, calm down! I cried. What happened?
Mums gone mad! Lucy wailed. She said you refused to let her stay with us, that she was useless, so shed have to live with us! Harry stayed three days and then ran off! He said he cant live like this, that shes driving him crazy with her advice and control! Emily, its all your fault!
My head spun. Hold on Mum wanted to let you and Harry have her flat, is that right?
Yes! We thought wed stay there until we could save for our own place. And they wanted to move Mum in with you. But now Lucy broke down again.
Now that you wont help, she says we have to look after her in old age! And Harry Harry said its either her or him!
And you chose Mum?
What else could I do? Shes mum! But now hes gone, and its all because of you! If youd taken her in, none of this would have happened!
Sounds like a right drama, I muttered to myself.
Lucy, I said, your relationship didnt fall apart because of me or Mum. It broke because of your choice. You could have found a solution youre an adult now. You could have rented a place for her, or looked for a shared flat like many do. You could have talked to Harry and reached a compromise. Instead you picked the easiest route blaming me.
Youre heartless! Lucy shrieked. Youve always been cold and calculating!
No, Lucy. Ive just learned to protect myself, and thats perfectly alright. Too bad you havent figured that out yet.
I hung up and turned off the phone.
Tom appeared in the living room with a fresh mug of coffee.
Family again? he asked.
Yeah, Lucy this time. Some family drama.
He said nothing, letting the silence speak.
I think I finally understand something, I said.
Whats that?
That I dont have to be convenient for anyone not for mum, not for my sister, not for anyone. I have the right to my own life.
I pulled Tom into a warm hug.
Welcome to the selfish club, love. Weve got good tea.
The phone rang once more. Of course, it was Mum.
Well, look at that, she cried, sounding tragic. Because of you Lucy is moving out to a flat! Shes abandoning me, just like you! Everyones abandoned me! Selfish, ungrateful lot!
“YOU MISSED IT, MARINA! THE PLANE’S GONE! AND WITH IT YOUR JOB AND YOUR BONUS! YOU’RE FIRED!” — HER BOSS YELLED DOWN THE PHONE, AS MARINA STOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF A TRAFFIC JAM, STARING AT THE OVERTURNED CAR SHE’D JUST PULLED SOMEONE ELSE’S CHILD FROM. SHE’D LOST HER CAREER, BUT FOUND HERSELF.
“YOU DIDN’T MAKE IT, KATHERINE! THE FLIGHT’S GONE! AND WITH IT, YOUR POSITION AND YOUR BONUS! YOU’RE FINISHED!” Her boss...
Oksana, Are You Busy? A Festive Night of Mishaps, Kindness, and New Beginnings on a Snowy New Year’s Eve in England
Emma, are you busy? Mum asked, popping her head round the door. One minute, Mum. Let me just send this...
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,...