I dont understand why my wife dreads her mothers visit until she arrives and takes over our lives.
When my motherinlaw, Margaret, calls to say shell stay a few days with us, I instantly notice Emily tightening up.
I cant see the reason. After all, Margaret lives alone in Manchester and rarely comes to our quiet home near the Lake District. I think it could be a nice family weekend.
But as the day draws nearer, Emily looks more and more on edge.
Why are you so wound up? I ask, laughing. Shell be here a few days, enjoy us, see the kids it cant be that terrible!
Emily gives me a tired, resigned look.
You dont know her like I do, she murmurs.
At that moment Im convinced shes overreacting.
I have no idea whats about to unfold.
The invasion
Margaret arrives with two enormous suitcases, as if she plans to set up shop for a year. She doesnt even pause to kiss us before stepping inside, scanning our house with a critical eye, like an inspector measuring everything against her standards.
At first everything seems normal. She wraps us in tight embraces, hands out gifts for the children, and offers a bag piled with homemade jams, biscuits and precooked meals.
I tell myself Emily is simply being paranoid.
Then the next morning comes.
And our house no longer belongs to us.
This is your coffee? How dreadful! How can you drink something so bitter? she exclaims, watching me sip from my mug.
I smile, assuming shes joking.
She is far from finished.
These curtains are hideous! They make the room look gloomy. Youll need new ones.
Why have you put the sofa there? It makes no sense! The whole layout needs rearranging.
You really dont know how to wash dishes properly? First rinse with hot water, then scrub, then rinse again!
Within hours she has claimed the house, upending our routines and imposing her own rules.
Emily stays silent, but I can see her holding back words.
Margaret, however, isnt done.
A déjàvu feeling
The scene reminds me of an episode a few months earlier with Emilys younger sister, Lucy.
Margaret had flown to Bristol to visit Lucy, planning to stay two weeks. She left after just four days.
We wondered why. Lucy is always gentle and never complains.
Eventually we figured it out.
In Bristol Margaret behaved exactly the same: criticizing the childrens upbringing, rearranging the kitchen, dictating how Lucy should run her life.
Lucy could not endure a few more days. She quietly packed a bag, bought a train ticket and saw Margaret off at the station without a word.
And now the pattern repeats.
Only this time were trapped.
The point of no return
After four days the tension becomes unbearable.
I come home from work and find Emily sitting at the kitchen table, eyes empty.
I sit opposite her.
I cant take it any more, she whispers.
That morning Margaret has 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 move in with you? Im alone in Manchester, youre my family after all
Its too much.
We realise that if we do nothing shell never leave.
The next morning we summon all our courage and tell her its time to go.
She freezes.
Oh, I see Im a burden. Youre kicking me out, just like Sophie did, right?
We try to explain that we simply need our space and were exhausted.
She refuses to listen.
In silence she slams her suitcases shut and walks out without a goodbye.
The calm after the storm
When shes gone, the quiet that settles over our home feels almost unreal.
Emily and I sit at the kitchen table, sipping tea in silence, still stunned by the past few days.
Do you think shell ever forgive us? she asks softly.
I sigh. I have no idea.
For the first time in a week I finally feel a sense of relief.
The endless circle
A week later Lucy calls.
I cant believe you did that to Mum! she exclaims, outraged.
Emily and I exchange a look.
How ironic.
When Margaret was staying with Lucy, she lasted less than four days before sending her packing.
Now Lucy blames us for doing the same.
We sit in silence after the call, lost in thought.
Do all parents become this way as they agemore intrusive, more demanding, more oppressive?
And the most frightening question of all
Will we one day become like her?
