З життя
Tried to Do the Right Thing
**The Road to Good Intentions**
Yes, I understand youre not obligated! But hes your own flesh and blood! Would you really leave the boy without warm clothes this winter? Alex, is this how I raised you? his mother pressed.
The phone lay on the table. After a few family rows, Alex had learned his lesson: when his mum called, it was best to put her on speakerphone so he and Emily could face Lydia together. Otherwise, shed wear them down one by one.
Lydia, were not refusing to help, Emily countered. But if looking after Tommy is too much, let us take him. Sophies fine with itweve spoken.
Lydia was silent for a moment, weighing her options: unburden herself of unwanted responsibility or keep her leverage over her daughter. The latter won.
Youve no idea what youre signing up for! she scoffed. Youve never had a childor even a cat! Both of you work all daywholl watch him? Do you think kids raise themselves like weeds? They need care, attention, love!
I know that, Emily said calmly. But given the situation, wed manage. Id quit. Consider it maternity leave in Sophies place.
Oh, and how would you live, then? Rolling in money, are you?
Youve always said my salary barely makes a dent. Wed manage without those pennies.
Lydia fell quiet. Alex sighedEmily was new to this family drama, but hed had a lifetime of it.
Fine. Issuing ultimatums now, are you? Lydia finally huffed. Well, go ahead. Youre young and foolishyou dont understand what youre getting into. Im trying to help, to take the burden off you. But no, youd rather dig in your heels. Just remember: while youre busy proving a point, that child is freezing and ill because of you.
With that, she hung up. Emily sat beside Alex, hugging him, and remembered how it all began.
…At first, Lydia had seemed kind, welcomingif a bit strong-willed. Shed smiled when Emily visited, back when she wasnt even her daughter-in-law yet. Lydia set tables groaning with food and sent them home with bags of groceries.
She slipped into Emilys life effortlessly. Daily calls, invitations, even pulling strings to get Emilys mum into a better hospital. Emily had been grateful.
But she noticed other things too. If Emily missed a call or cut a chat short, Lydia transformed. Weeks of cold silence followed, her tone dripping with disapproval until apologies were made.
Oh, I see. Too busy for me now, are you? Lydia would snipe.
Emily laughed it off but felt uneasy. Her future mother-in-laws care was clingy, conditional.
Lydia had a daughter tooSophie. She puzzled Emily: quiet, flinching at loud noises, always retreating to her room.
What does Sophie like? Emily once asked before Christmas. Im stuck on gifts.
Oh, nothing, Lydia dismissed. Glued to her phone all day. Nothings ever good enough. Useless…
Thats when Emily knew something was wrong. Her own mum would never speak of her that way.
Later, she saw more. Lydia would smile at Emily, then snap at Sophie over unwashed dishes, wrong friends, wrong music. No wonder Sophie married at eighteennot for love, but escape.
Silly girl! Lydia had raged. That runt will leave her within a month!
With Sophie gone, Lydia turned her attention to Emily and Alex. Endless advice, surprise visits, When will I have grandchildren? The full package.
Emily, why not leave that shop? The pays peanuts, Lydia said once. I could get you a better job.
By then, Emily knew: agree once, and shed owe Lydia forever.
No, thanks. I like my jobgreat team.
Lydias lips pursed. Suit yourself. I only want whats best. But if youre happy scraping by, fine.
About Sophie, Lydia was nearly rightthe marriage lasted eighteen months. Long enough for Sophie to have Tommy.
Though not close, Sophie once confided in Emily, sobbing.
Hes never home, she admitted. Lies about staying with friends. Hes raised his hand at me…
Leave him, Emily urged.
And go where? Back to Mum? Id rather endure this.
That said it all.
Eventually, Sophies husband left herfound someone else. With Tommy, she returned to Lydia. The criticism was relentless: Useless, uneducated, doomed to poverty. But at least Lydia watched Tommy while Sophie worked.
Until Sophie snapped. She packed her things and leftwithout Tommy.
Id take him, but where? she told Emily later. Im crashing at a friends. I need to sort myself out first.
So Lydia turned to Alex and Emily again, demanding help. But Emily saw where this led. Sophie still bore scars from Lydias love. Alex rarely stood up to her.
Emily was sure: if they stepped in, they could change things.
Sophie, do you want Tommy to go through what you did? Emily pressed. Bring him to us. Well care for him until youre back on your feet.
Sophie hesitated. And just wrench him away? The row shed make…
You could contact social services.
Doubt theyd help. But youre rightI wont let her ruin him too.
Sophie hatched a plan. She pretended to return home, then two weeks later, took Tommy for a walk and brought him to Emily and Alex.
Lydia eruptedthreats, police, hysterics. But she failed. Sophie landed in hospital from stress, but it was over.
Emily quit to care for Tommy. She didnt mind. Theyd already talked about kidsnow fate handed them one.
…Five years later, Sophie had a steady job, a flat shared with a friend, andfor the first timepeace.
Mum Emily, look what me and George built! Tommy beamed, showing off a tower of blocks.
He lived with Sophie now but spent weekends with Emily and Alex, convinced he had two mums, and adored his little cousin. Emily always bought matching toysshe couldnt leave Tommy out.
As for Lydia? Shed faded away. Early on, there were angry letters, but thennothing. Money dried up; friends vanished.
Sometimes Emily pitied her. But watching Tommy and George play, she knew: thered been no other way. Lydia had wanted control, forgetting that family isnt a battlefieldand she was no general. Now, the deserters had built their own happiness, leaving the past behind.
**Lesson:** Love shouldnt come with strings. True care means lifting others up, not weighing them down.
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,...