**Diary Entry: The Mother-in-Law**
Geraldine Whitaker was a mother-in-law by naturenot the reserved, polite sort, but the loud, brash, unstoppable kind. Her own mum, Lydia, used to tell friends about her newborn daughter with a nervous laugh: “Lay there in her cot, scowling, fists clenchedalready a proper battleaxe in the making.”
Luckily, Lydias mother-in-law, Margaret Harrington, lived in the next county and seldom visited. But when she did, the entire bakery where Lydia worked knew about it. The dough wouldnt rise, shed mix up ingredients, and her pies came out lopsided and pale, while she flinched at every sound.
“Take unpaid leave,” snapped the manager one day. “Come back when shes gone.”
“Mrs. Thompson, have mercy!” Lydia clutched her apron. “Works my only escape. At home, Id have to wait on her hand and foot and grovel.”
“Grovelling? For what?”
“Everything! My cookings wrong, my cleanings wrong, even the way I draw the curtains!”
“How *should* you draw them, then?”
“No idea. But not like *this*!”
When Geraldine was born, Margaret swooped in, insisting the baby be named after her late mother. She had the child baptisedrisky, given Lydia and her husband Geoffreys communist leaningsbullied the midwife, reduced Lydia to a nervous wreck, then left, convinced the “empty-headed ninny” would ruin the child.
For a week, Lydia wept into her tea. So Geoffrey raided his fishing boat savings and bought her a gold locket.
Against all grim predictions, Geraldine thrivedwalking, talking, and potty-trained early. By five, she was asking unsettlingly deep questions: “What do you love? What kind of person are you? Why do people smile?” Lydias bakery mates and Geoffreys factory friendsgood-natured but simple folkstammered and declared shed go far.
As for her grandmother, Geraldine handled her in minutes. During one visit, Margaret screeched about the couples new sofa (“Beige! Impractical!”). Five-year-old Geraldine listened, then dragged Margarets bags to the door.
“Where dyou think youre taking those?”
“You came without love. You shout at Mum. Leave.”
“Youve turned her against me!” wailed Margaret.
Geraldine thrust the doll shed just been gifted back at her. “Take it. I dont want presents from you. Learn to behave.”
“Got you there, Mum!” Geoffrey cackled. “Our Gerrys no pushover. Last time I came home drunk, she lectured me for a week.”
After that, Lydia kept Geraldine home during Margarets visits, delaying bedtime so the old woman left with complaints unvoiced.
At school, Geraldine was a natural leaderclass monitor, head girl, though she narrowly missed top marks. Literature? “Rabbits dont talk. Devils dont exist. And Dickens is a windbag.” Singing and art fared no better, but sciences? Flawless.
Teachers urged university, but she chose distance learningLydias health was shaky, and Margaret, now seventy, needed visits. Then Daniel Cooper, the factory foremans son, returned from the army. Seeing Geraldine in her sky-blue prom dress, he gaped.
“Blimey, Gerry, youre a proper bride!”
“Bride? At my wedding, Ill be a queen.”
“Done!” he grinned. “Ill tell Mum to get me a velvet suit.”
“Grey, not black,” she said. “Looks smart.”
Without a single “I love you” or kiss, they planned their futureguest lists, honeymoon, even sons names. They moved to the city, Geraldine for her studies, Daniel to resume his apprenticeship. Returned, married. Right on schedule, son James arrived. By graduation, two more boys followed.
Back from maternity leave, Geraldine climbed the ranks, soon overtaking Daniela decent bloke, but ambitionless. While she worked late, took courses, even played office politics, he slipped off fishing with his father-in-law, joking, “Time with a rod doesnt count toward lifes tally.”
Geraldine was sharpspotting genuine grievances from workers whinges. Today, theyd call her a “top manager”; then, it was “force of nature” or, less kindly, “the mother-in-law.”
She confessed to friends Tanya and Vera that modern girls irked her. “Wont keep quiet if theyre out of line.”
Her eldest, James, took after Danielsolid, lazy, happiest with a fishing rod. Middle son William was her doublea firebrand whod asked at five, “How do I be a proper man?” Youngest, Edward, was a mixbursts of drive, then weeping over poetry.
Too busy chasing a deputy director role to micromanage them, Geraldine barely noticed when the younger two brought home fiancées.
Jamess wife, Katherine, was all confidencelounging in the sun, turning up her nose at roast dinners, mourning the lack of sushi bars in their town. “Hows the daughter-in-law?” Tanya teased.
“Sharp,” Geraldine said. “Got James studying English. Theyre off abroad.”
“Youll let him go?”
“Why not? We never travelled. Let them.”
Williams wife, Alice, was the oppositetimid, hiding behind him. Geraldine grumbled about dress-shopping: “Two hours, fifteen gowns, and she still went, You choose, Mum.” But when Alice cooked feasts that added kilos, Geraldine softened. “Go on, love, do your lasagne.” Twinsa boy and girlsealed the deal. Alice was “our girl” now.
Edward took his time. After university, he trucked abroad, then retrained in IT. At thirty, he brought home Juliaa giggling whirlwind who lost it at Geraldines initials (“G.W.! Hows she lived with that?”). Their wedding was chaosJulia bolting mid-ceremony, cackling at a plaster cherub.
Now settled nearbyEdward coding, Julia running an animation studiotheyve a daughter, just as merry.
As for Geraldine? Tanya and Vera still marvel: “Whod have thought our tough-as-nails mated be such a pushover? Either shes lucky, or we never really knew her.”
**Lesson:** Some battles arent worth fighting. Save your strength for the ones that matter.
