Last month was my sons birthday. I told him Id come over as a guest.
I raised three boys. Anyone whos had four men in their house will know exactly what I mean. I cant fathom how a home could have no dinner ready or things scattered everywhere. Now Im 52, and Ive always believed a woman should make a home comfortable and safe for a mansomewhere he can return to. But I dont think my daughter-in-law sees it the same way.
My eldest son decided to marry two years ago, and nine months later, they had a daughter. He was 28 at the time, and his wife, Emily, was just 20. She was still at university, but the eight-year gap didnt seem to bother my son.
When she was pregnant, Emily was difficultalways sending my son out for something. First, she wanted apples in the morning, then oranges, then flowers. He never argued, always gave in. We thought things would change after the baby came, but they didnt.
She breastfed for two months, and that was it. Then she told my son she was exhausted from sleepless nights and needed a break. Hes always been patient and kind, so he asked me to help. Of course, I couldnt say no.
While I looked after the baby, Emily spent her days at salons, coming home too tired to even cook dinner for my son after work. By the end of the week, I was still the one caring for their daughter. Shed grown used to sleeping till noon, living entirely on her own terms, leaving everything to me.
After a month, Id had enough and said I needed to go home. Emily was furious. I knew she wasnt ready to handle things alone, so I visited now and thenbut I didnt like what I saw. The house was a mess, the fridge empty.
She couldnt even be bothered to cook for her own child. Having raised three sons myself, I found her laziness unacceptable. My son never missed a meal at home growing up. Last month, for his birthday, I thought Id visit, expecting Emily to have cooked something. Instead, she ordered pizza and sushi.
I dont understand why my son puts up with it. Maybe because they never lived together before marriagehe never saw what she was really like. Its hard for him, but he stays quiet, never confronts her.
I keep thinking of ways to make her act like a proper wife and mother. My only worry is my son taking offence. I know I should support his choices, but I cant just stand by and watch. Last month, when I walked into their apartment for the birthday dinner, I saw my grandson, the baby girl, playing happily on a blanket, her tiny hands reaching for a stuffed bear. My son was on the couch, feeding her a bottle with careful, tender hands. Emily was curled beside him, half-asleep, dark circles under her eyes, a textbook open in her lap. The pizza boxes sat untouched on the counter. As I stood there, he looked up and smiledtired, but content. And in that moment, I realized I hadnt seen weakness in him, but lovedeep, quiet, and chosen. I closed my mouth on the words Id rehearsed and instead walked to the kitchen to heat a bottle, knowing some things arent fixed by scolding, but by stayingand helping, without judgment.
