You Steal from My Son—He Can’t Even Afford a Lightbulb! On Sunday morning, I was tucked under a blanket on the sofa. My husband had gone to visit his mum to “change the lightbulbs,” but of course, the real reason for calling her darling son over was something else entirely: “Son, did you forget that Igor’s birthday is today?” My husband is a real spendthrift. His salary barely lasts a few days. Thankfully, he gives me enough to cover the bills and groceries, but the rest goes on the latest video games and everything that goes with them. I don’t mind, really—I’d rather let him enjoy his hobbies than have him drinking in the shed or disappearing off to nightclubs. Besides, I once read that the first forty years of childhood are the hardest for a man. But I’m not telling you all this for sympathy. I’m explaining why my husband’s pockets are always empty! I don’t have those problems; I even manage to save a little, and often lend my husband money when he’s desperate—but never for his mum, his nieces, or his sister. Of course, I remembered Igor’s birthday, so I bought him a present a week ago. Before my husband headed over to the family, I handed him the gift and settled down to watch a film. I didn’t go—there’s no love lost between me and the in-laws. They think I don’t love him because I won’t let him spend our money on them or babysit his sister’s kids. Once, I agreed to watch his sister’s little ones for an hour, but they picked them up half a day later! I was late for work, and when I dared to complain, his mum and sister called me shameless and rude. After that, I refused every request for babysitting, though I never minded my husband spending time with the kids—honestly, I liked playing with them too. Not long after my husband left, the whole family turned up at our house, nieces in tow. His mum marched straight in and declared: “We’ve decided that since it’s Igor’s birthday, we’ll give him a tablet he picked out himself—worth £400. You owe me £200 for your share. So, pay up.” I might buy the boy a tablet, but never such an expensive one. Naturally, I refused to hand over any money. Even my husband started having a go at me for being greedy. So, I opened the laptop, called Igor over, and within five minutes, we’d chosen a gadget together that he really liked. He raced off to his mother, who was still sulking in the hallway. My sister-in-law always seems to have sticky fingers—something valuable tends to “stick” to them. My mother-in-law, needless to say, wasn’t impressed and immediately kicked off: “No one asked you to do that! You were supposed to give us the money. My son can’t even buy a lightbulb for himself—give me £200 now! You know that’s my son’s money.” She even tried rummaging through my handbag, which was on the nightstand. I shot my husband a look and hissed, “You have three minutes to get them out of this house!” So my husband dragged his mother out the door—three minutes was all he needed. And honestly, I’d much rather my husband spends his money on games than have his mum pocket the lot. Better he spends it on what makes him happy, than let those freeloaders nick it from him. Sitting here now, I think—maybe I should have married an orphan!

Youre robbing my son, he cant even afford a light bulb!

Sunday morning. I lay wrapped up on the sofa, a blanket pulled close around my shoulders. My husband had driven off to his mothers house to sort out some light bulbs. But of course, that wasnt the real reason hed been summoned:

Son, havent you forgotten that Olivers birthday is today?

My husband could stretch a tenner thinner than tissue paper. His pay doesnt last through the week. At least he gives me enough to cover the bills and groceries. The rest? Blown on computer games and whatever latest nonsense he fancies. I let it slidebetter he enjoys a bit of fun at home than gets drunk in some car hole with his mates or haunts the clubs at all hours. Besides, I once read you never truly grow up until after fortythats childhoods hardest decade.

Im not looking for sympathy. I just want you to understand why my husbands pockets are always empty. Ive never had that issue. I even managed to squirrel a bit away here and there. Im usually the one hell borrow from when hes really caught short. But I never cough up when its for his mother, niece, or his sister.

Naturally, Id remembered Olivers birthdaya week ago, I went out and got him a proper present. Before my husband trotted off to see the family, I handed over the wrapped parcel and settled in to watch a film. I never go with himhis folks and I share a healthy mutual dislike.

They think Im cold because I wont let my husband throw his money at them or play childminder for his sisters brood. Once, I agreed to watch the kids for an hourthey fetched them back after half a day! I turned up late for work as a result. I had the nerve to actually say I wasnt happy, and my husbands mother and sister called me shameless. Since then, Ive refused every ask to mind their children. I didnt begrudge my husband his fun with his nieces and nephews thoughhe enjoyed it, and so did I when I joined in.

Hardly had my husband left that morning than there came a knock and, like a parade, in they all marchedhis whole family, nieces in tow. His mother strode right in, never bothering to take off her coat, and declared:

Weve decided, since its Olivers birthday, well get him that tablet he picked out. Its £400, so you owe me £200 for your share. Hand it over.

Now, I mightve bought my nephew a tabletbut not one that dear.

I simply refused to hand over any money. My husband started in about how tight I was. I turned on the computer, called Oliver over, and within five minutes wed picked out a gadget he really wanted and bought it together.

Oliver ran off beaming to his mother, whod lingered in the hallway like she owned the place. My sister-in-law had sticky fingerssomething always went mysteriously missing when she was about. My mother-in-law ignored my effort of goodwill, offended at the interruption.

No one asked you to do that, she snapped. You were supposed to give cash. Youre married to my son and hes always skint, cant even buy a light bulb. Hand over £200 at onceyou know that money is meant for him.

And with that, she actually reached into my handbag resting on the side table. I shot my husband a look and hissed,

Youve got three minutes to get them out of this house.

That was all it tookhe grabbed his mother and ushered the lot of them out the door, his face set like stone.

So yes, Id rather my husband spent his wages on his silly games than let his mother fleece him dry. Its better he finds pleasure in a hobby than hand everything over to those chancers.

And as I sit here now, I cant help but thinkId have been better off with an orphan!