З життя
«Визит к родственникам обернулся маленькой революцией»
**Дневниковая запись, 15 октября**
Меня зовут Ольга, мне тридцать пять, замужем за Дмитрием, двое детей. Всю жизнь была непоседой — даже в детском саду пыталась устроить зарядку для всей группы, в школе меня выбрали старостой, а в институте я была заводилой на всех вечеринках. Всю эту энергию, кажется, унаследовала от бабушки, у которой каждое лето гостила в деревне. Любила сельскую жизнь и никогда не боялась работы.
С Димой познакомилась: собрала народ на субботник в парке, а он оказался одним из немногих, кто пришёл. Вместе мешки таскали, разговорились, потом в кино сходили. Так и закрутилось. Через год он на колено встал, я, конечно, сказала «да».
Сначала жили у моих родителей, потом ипотеку взяли на квартиру. Родился сын — вылитый отец, через два года дочка появилась. Дима работал как папа Карло, но дома всегда помогал, ни разу не ныл, что устал. А вот я стала выдыхаться. Материнство — это не только улыбки и первые слова, но и ночи без сна, вечная усталость, тревога за каждый чих. Муж увидел, что я на пределе, и предложил съездить к его матери в деревню — отдохнуть. Я, дура, обрадовалась: вспомнила, как здорово было у бабки в детстве. Решила — хоть немного сил наберусь.
Дима нас отвёз, свекровь встретила с пирогами, даже накрытый стол приготовила. Дети на веранде заснули, мне постелили в комнате сына. Вроде бы — идеальный вечер. Но утром, едва рассвело, меня подняли криком:
— Спим, госпожа? Вставай давай! Корова сама себя не подоит!
Глянула на часы — пять утра. Еле глаза протёрла. Хотела умыться, но свекрови это не понравилось:
— Потом умоешься, всё равно испачкаешься!
Промолчала, переоделась, пошла в хлев. Она всю дорогу ворчала: «Городская», «руки не оттуда», но когда я взялась за ведро и надоила лучше неё — притихла. Потом всех животных накормила, руки вымыла и подошла к ней:
— Я не от работы бегаю. Но дайте мне делать по-своему.
— Делай, коли умеешь, — буркнула она.
И понеслось. Привела в порядок огород, грядки перекопала, забор покрасила, молоко да овощи соседям продавать начала, даже компостную яму соорудила и трубы для канализации затеяла — старый туалет давно на свалку просился. Когда яму вырыли, свекровь ахнула:
— Это ещё что такое?!
— Мама, вы же сами на воду жаловались. Вот будет нормальный слив.
Тут она не выдержала и тайком Диме позвонила:
— Дима, приезжай, забирай свою жену. Совсем меня замучила!
— Что случилось?
— Приедешь — увидишь.
Когда я зашла, она телефон поспешно сунула в карман и пробормотала:
— Молитву читала, дочка… Хорошо. Потом банки стерилизовать будем. Огурцы собрала, закатывать надо. Завтра вишню консервируем, потом яблоки. Уже с соседом договорилась.
Свекровь только вздохнула. А я с новыми силами дальше хозяйство обустраивала.
К концу недели приехал Дима. Мать к нему кинулась:
— Забирай её! Больше не могу! Она как ветряная мельница — крутится с утра до ночи! Я уж не отдыхаю, а от неё помощи прошу!
Дима только руками развёл:
— Мам, ты же хотела помощницу. Вот тебе и помощница.
Когда уезжали, свекровь даже смахнула слезу — не от грусти, скорее от изнеможения. Я пообещала на выходные заглянуть.
— Можешь и не торопиться, — процедила она, хлопнув дверью машины.
А потом, думая, что никто не слышит, обернулась к дому и пробормотала:
— Лучше бы, как все нормальные невестки, сериалы смотрела…
Но, несмотря ни на что, я знала: теперь она меня уважает. И, возможно, даже немного побаивается.
**Вывод**: иногда лучший отдых — это перевернуть всё с ног на голову. И пусть все вокруг в панике — зато после них останется что-то полезное.
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