From the Cradle to the Leech
“Listen, why dont you just marry your mother-in-law instead? At least shed be useful. Right now, youre just feeding two extra mouths for the price of one,” sighed Margaret dryly during her phone call with her daughter.
“Mum, could you stop picking on him? Youre never happy with anyone! Its like you think were draining your bank account.”
“Well, thank goodness its not *my* account,” Margaret huffed. “But mark my words, itll be mine next. His mum wont be around forever. Has that layabout of yours even *considered* getting a job? Or is he planning to sit around in his pyjamas until your daughter turns eighteen? Since when do men send their wives out to work while they play with rattles and nappies?”
“Mum! This is how we *choose* to live. It works for us. What more do you want?” Emily replied coldly.
“Oh, nothing. Just for you to have a proper man, thats all.”
Emily hung up without another word. “Still the same stubborn little girl,” Margaret thought with a sigh.
She mightve let it goif not for what shed seen earlier that day.
That morning, Margaret had dropped by to visit her granddaughter. She arrived at Valeries house, where the young couple had apparently taken up permanent residence. When she walked in to greet her son-in-law, the sight before her couldve been a painting titled *Modern Man at Leisure*.
Daniel was sprawled in his gaming chair, fork in hand, lazily devouring the plate of sausages his mother had just brought him. A few greasy bits tumbled onto his lap, which he brushed off absently without tearing his eyes from the screen. Meanwhile, Valerie was running a marathon between the cot and the stoveboiling jam for her son while trying to rock the baby to sleep.
“Right, since *someone* has to help, I suppose I will,” Margaret offered, her voice dripping with frosty sarcasm.
Valerie shot her a grateful look and bolted for the kitchen. Margaret was left holding the baby. Two hours passed, and not once did the father check on his own child. Apparently, this was normal.
It stung, watching Emily slog away at the supermarket while Daniel lounged about. But her daughter had made her choice and wasnt budging. Not that this was a surpriseMargaret had seen the writing on the wall years ago.
…The first time she met Daniel, hed seemed shy, almost gentle. But five minutes into conversation, it became clear: this wasnt modesty, just sheer laziness.
“Daniel, do you work or study?” Margaret had asked over a slice of Victoria sponge.
“Erdropped out of uni first year.”
“Why?”
“Just wasnt my thing.”
“I see. So, working then?”
“Not at the moment,” hed mumbled. “Still looking.”
Margaret knew she sounded like a detective, but something about him set off alarm bells. She couldnt stop now.
“Ah. And you live alone?”
“Nah, with me mum. Easier that way.”
Easier for *him*, obviously.
That evening, Margaret had tried to talk sense into Emily.
“Love, he cant even support *himself*, let alone a family!”
“Mum, hes *looking*. Once he finds something, itll be fine. You dont know him like I do,” Emily insisted.
“Looking for a free ride,” Margaret wanted to snap, but it was pointless. Every conversation ended the sameEmily sulked, said it was “none of her business,” then gave her the silent treatment for weeks. Eventually, Margaret stopped interfering. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way.
A year later, Daniel *did* find a joba low-paying gig at a tiny firm. Emily beamed with pride.
“See? I *told* you!” shed crowed.
Her certainty was blinding.
They scraped together enough for a rented flata shoebox of a place, but Emily acted like theyd moved into Buckingham Palace. Only, this palace had a lumpy second-hand sofa and no AC.
Daniel tried to take out a loan to spruce the place up, but the bank refused. Maybe his wages were too measly, maybe his credit history was dodgyor maybe he just didnt fancy the debt. Either way, Emily ended up signing for it.
“Look, I dont mind,” said the landlord. “But the bed and AC stay when you leave. And Im not patching holes in the wall for you.”
No matter. They splurged anywaynew telly, gaming PC for Daniel. Margaret watched, shaking her head, but what could she do?
Six months later, Emily was pregnant. Soon, shed be on maternity leave, and money was already tight. The solution? Move in with Valerie. She agreed, though not without grumbling.
After the baby arrived, their lives became a house of cardsone gust away from collapse. And soon enough, it wobbled.
At first, Valerie kept them afloatbuying the pram, stocking up on nappies, even taking night shifts so Emily could sleep. But a year in, Daniel got sacked (probably for slacking, Margaret suspected).
Then he had his “brilliant” idea.
“Em, how about this: whoever lands a decent job first works, the other stays with the baby.”
The catch? His definition of “decent.” Daniel treated job hunting like a buffetpicking and choosing while employers supposedly fought over him. Two weeks in, hed only been to two interviews. Emily, meanwhile, got a shop job down the road.
So Daniel “looked after” the baby. *Allegedly.* In reality, Valerie did most of the work while he gamed. Margaret tried warning Emily, but her daughter had rose-tinted glasses glued to her face.
Nothing lasts forever. Two years later, Valerie passed. The flat went to Daniel, but without her pension, things got dire. Now *he* had to workthough, of course, Emilys job and household duties remained unchanged.
Predictably, she was soon sackedmissing too many days when their daughter was ill or the nursery closed early. Finding flexible work was near impossible. Employers werent exactly rolling out the red carpet for mums.
Daniel became the “breadwinner.” Then, three months in, he dropped the bomb.
“Sorry, Em. Ive fallen out of love with you.”
She begged, sobbed, *pleaded*but he wouldnt budge.
A day later, Emily turned up on Margarets doorstep, child in arms, bags in tow. With a sigh, Margaret let them in. Where else would they go?
“Mum Ive got nowhere. And theres still the *loan* Please help.”
“You mean you *havent* paid it off yet?”
“Well, Daniel needed a new PC. Said hed work from home, but the laptop wasnt good enough, so I”
Margaret buried her face in her hands. A right mess, but not the end of the world.
“You can stay as long as you need,” she said finally. “But no handouts. Consider it a life lesson.”
Emily sulked but didnt argue. She knew better than to bite the hand that fed herand deep down, she knew Margaret was right.
Soon, Margaret helped her find remote workgruelling, poorly paid, but just enough for bills and food.
Meanwhile, Daniel had a new girlfriend within a month *and* quit his job. Another woman footing his bills. *”Some leeches never let go,”* Margaret mused. But she kept that to herself. No need to twist the knife.
She just hoped Emily had learned her lesson.
