I never understood why my wife was so anxious about her mothers visit until she showed up and took over our lives.
When my motherinlaw, Margaret, called to say shed be staying with us for a few days, I could see Emily tighten up straight away.
I couldnt see the problem. After all, Margaret lived alone in Manchester and rarely dropped by our quiet cottage near York. I thought it would be a nice chance for a family catchup.
But as the day drew nearer, Emily grew more and more on edge.
Why are you so worked up? I asked, trying to laugh. Shell be here a few days, have a cuppa, see the kids it cant be that terrible.
Emily gave me a weary, resigned look.
You dont know her like I do, she murmured.
At the time I thought she was blowing things out of proportion.
I had no idea what lay ahead.
The invasion
Margaret arrived with two enormous suitcases, as if she intended to move in for good. She didnt even pause for a kiss before stepping inside, eyeing every corner of the house with the air of an inspector on a covert mission.
At first everything seemed normal. She wrapped us both in tight embraces, handed the children a pile of gifts, and gave us a bag brimming with homemade jam, biscuits and premade meals.
I told myself Emily was overreacting.
Then the next morning came, and our home was no longer ours.
This is your tea? How dreadful! How can you drink something so bitter? she exclaimed, staring at me as I sipped from my mug.
I smiled, assuming she was joking.
She was far from finished.
These curtains are hideous! They make the room look drab and gloomy. We need new ones straight away.
Why have you placed the sofa there? It makes no sense! The whole layout has to be redone.
You still dont know how to wash the dishes properly? First rinse with hot water, then scrub, then rinse again!
In a few hours she had taken possession of the house, upending our routines and imposing her own rules.
Emily stayed silent, but I could see how much she was holding back.
Margaret wasnt about to stop there.
Déjàvu
The whole scene reminded me of an incident a few months earlier with Emilys younger sister, Lucy.
Margaret had visited Lucy in Bristol, planning to stay for two weeks, yet she was gone after just four days.
We wondered why. Lucy was always easygoing and never complained.
Eventually we saw the pattern.
In Bristol Margaret had behaved exactly the same way: critiquing the childrens upbringing, reorganising the kitchen, dictating how Lucy should run her life.
Lucy could not bear it for long. She quietly packed a bag, bought a train ticket and saw Margaret off at the station without a word.
And now the story was repeating itself.
Only this time we were caught in the trap.
The point of no return
After four days the tension became unbearable.
Coming home from work, I found Emily sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space.
I took the seat opposite her.
I cant take it any more, she whispered.
That morning Margaret had crossed every line.
You dont make a proper breakfast for your husband? Just cereal? Thats a childs meal!
You never call me! A daughter should look after her mother!
Ive been thinking what if I moved in with you? Im alone in Manchester, youre my family now
It was too much.
We realised that if we did nothing, she would never leave.
The next morning we summoned all our courage and told her it was time to go.
She froze.
Oh, I see Im in the way. Youre sending me packing, just like Lucy did, right?
We tried to explain that we simply needed our space and were exhausted.
She would hear none of it.
In silence she gathered her suitcases and walked out without even saying goodbye.
The quiet after the storm
When she was gone, the calm that settled over the cottage felt almost surreal.
Emily and I remained at the kitchen table, tea in hand, stunned by the past few days.
Do you think shell ever forgive us? she asked softly.
I sighed. I have no idea.
For the first time in a week I felt a genuine sense of relief.
A neverending circle
A week later Lucy rang us.
I cant believe you did that to Mum! she shouted, outraged.
Emily and I exchanged a look.
The irony was palpable.
When Margaret had been staying with Lucy, she had lasted no more than four days before being sent packing. And now Lucy was accusing us of doing the same thing.
We sat in silence for a long while, each lost in thought.
Do all parents become this way as they agemore invasive, more demanding, more overbearing?
And the scariest question of all
Will we ever become like her?
