You’re Robbing My Son Blind—He Can’t Even Afford a Light Bulb! On Sunday morning, I was curled up on the sofa with a blanket while my husband drove over to his mother’s to “change some light bulbs.” But of course, the real reason for summoning her darling boy was something else entirely: “Son, have you forgotten it’s Igor’s birthday today?” My husband’s the generous type—his salary barely lasts a week. Thankfully, he still gives me cash for the bills and groceries, but the rest? He blows it all on new video games and whatever gadgets go with them. I don’t mind; better my man enjoys his hobbies than squanders his time (and money) in pubs or nightclubs. Besides, I once read that the first forty years of childhood are the hardest for any man. I’m not telling you this for sympathy, just so you understand why my husband always has empty pockets. I have no such problem—even manage to save. I often lend him money in emergencies, but when it’s for his mum, niece, or sister, I always say no. Naturally, I remembered Igor’s birthday. Last week, I bought his present myself. Before my husband set off, I handed it over and settled down to watch a film. I didn’t go—the mutual animosity between me and my in-laws made sure of that. They think I don’t love him, accuse me of being mean because I refuse to fund their expenses or mind my sister-in-law’s kids. Once, I watched them for an hour, but they picked them up half a day late, making me miss work—when I dared complain, his mum and sister called me shameless and rude. After that, any requests to babysit were met with a firm “no.” Didn’t bother me if my husband watched the kids—he enjoys their company. Not long after my husband left, he returned—with the whole family in tow, nieces and all. His mum barged in, coat still on, and declared: “We’ve decided that, for Igor’s birthday, he’ll get the tablet he wanted—two grand it cost. You owe me a thousand pounds for your share. Pay up.” I might have bought the lad a tablet—but nothing that expensive. Obviously, I refused to hand over any cash. That’s when my husband started guilt-tripping me for being stingy. I turned on the laptop and called Igor over. In five minutes, we picked and ordered a gadget he really wanted—job done. Thrilled, Igor dashed off to his mum, who’d been sulking in the hallway. My sister-in-law always had sticky fingers—nothing in our house was safe. My mother-in-law, meanwhile, ignored my thoughtful gesture and exploded with indignation: “No one asked for your help. You were meant to give money! You’re with my son, and he’s always skint, can’t even buy a lightbulb. Hand me a thousand pounds now—you know full well that money belongs to my boy!” She reached for my handbag on the nightstand. I glared at my husband and hissed, “You’ve got three minutes to get them out of here.” In less than three minutes, he’d grabbed his mother and chucked her and the lot of them out the door. So, yes, I’d rather my husband waste his wages on games than have his mother snatch every penny. At least he spends it on things that make him happy, not on those freeloaders. Sometimes, I genuinely think I’d have been better off marrying an orphan!

Youre robbing my son, he cant even afford a lightbulb.

One Sunday morning, I was curled up under a blanket on the sofa. My husband had gone off to his mothers house to change a lightbulb. Of course, that wasnt the only reason she wanted a visit:
Son, did you remember that today is Olivers birthday?

My husband is the sort of man who can make a weeks wages disappear by Wednesday. Thankfully, he hands over enough to cover the bills and the groceries. As for the rest, it vanishes on video games and everything he needs to keep playing. I dont mind that, really. Let the lad have his funId much rather he spends his spare change gaming than hiding in the shed with a bottle or gallivanting around nightclubs. Besides, I read somewhere that the first forty years of childhood are the hardest to outgrow.

Im not telling you all this for a shoulder to cry on, but to explain why my husbands pockets are always empty. Ive never had those troubles myself. I even manage to tuck away a bit here and there. Often enough, when my husband needs a quick loan, I can obligebut I never part with a penny if its for his mother, his nephew, or his sister.

Naturally, I remembered it was Olivers birthday, so Id already bought him a present a week ago. Before my husband set off to see the family, I handed it over and then settled in to watch a film. I didnt go with him; his family and I have never got along.

They think I dont love him because I wont let him spend on them and refuse to babysit his sisters kids. Once, I agreed to watch them for an hour, but half the day slipped away before anyone came to collect them. I ended up late for work and had the nerve to say I was annoyed about it. Ever since, his mum and sister have called me heartless and rude. After that, any request for childcare was met with a flat refusal from me. I didnt mind my husband spending time with the kids himselfI liked playing with them too.

Not long after my husband left, the entire brood turned up at our housesister and nephews in tow. My mother-in-law marched through our hallway in her coat, quite at ease, and announced:

Weve decided that since its Olivers birthday, were getting him the tablet he choseit costs two thousand pounds. You owe me a grand as your share, so pay up.

I might have given the boy a tablet, but certainly nothing that expensive.

Naturally, I handed over no money at all. At that point even my husband started grumbling at me for being stingy. Instead, I opened the laptop and called Oliver over. Together, we picked out and ordered a gadget he likedjob done in five minutes flat.

The lad dashed off, beaming, to his mother sitting out in the hallway. My sister-in-law, whose hands have always been a touch gluey, looked ready to swipe anything not nailed down. My mother-in-law didnt so much as blink at my gestureinstead, she took offence at once.

No one asked you to do that! You ought to have handed over cash. Youre with my son, and hes always left like a pauper, cant even buy a lightbulb. Give me a thousand pounds, right now. That money belongs to my son and you know it.

And with that she started rooting through my handbag, which was lying on the bedside table. I looked straight at my husband and hissed,
Youve got three minutes to get them out!

He took my mother-in-law by the arm and bundled her out the front door. Three minutes flat was precisely what he needed.

And that, in a way, is why Id much rather my husband splurges his wages on games than let his mother grab every last penny. At least when he spends on what he loves, its his choice, not some greedy lot wringing him dry. Still, sometimes I wonderwouldnt it have been simpler to marry an orphan?