Surprise! Im moving in with you, announced Margaret Smith as she wheeled a huge suitcase through the hallway of our twobedroom flat.
Emma froze, a dishrag still clutched in her hand. She had just finished the dishes after dinner, relishing a rare quiet evening Id gone to the corner shop for a loaf, the kids finally asleep after endless coaxing. And then, out of the blue, my mother appeared at the door with her luggage.
Mrs Smith hello, Emma muttered, trying to steady her shock. Why didnt you give us a headsup?
Why should I? Margaret waved a hand, shedding her coat. I came to see my son, not strangers. I decided to be spontaneous! Yesterday I thought, What am I doing alone in my little flat? Ill help you two with the kids. Said it, done it. Ive let the flat out to nice people, packed my things, and here I am!
Emma swallowed hard. This couldnt be happening. Tom and I had only just begun to settle into married life after the arrival of our second child. Our daughter Emily was three, our son Jack was only eight months old. Even in our cramped twobedroom flat it was tight for four. And now, a motherinlaw? Permanently?
Does Tom know? Emma asked, hoping this was some mistake.
No, not yet, Margaret winked, eyeing the entryway. Hell be thrilled! He always says he misses my cakes. Ill be baking every day, looking after the children while youre at work. Everyone will be happier!
Just then the front door opened Tom was back. Emma opened it, her eyes wide with worry. He stepped in with a bag, and when he saw his mother, he stopped on the threshold.
Mom? he said, surprised. Whats whats happening?
My boy! Margaret threw her arms around him. Ive decided to move in with you! For good!
Tom glanced from his mother to Emma, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and helplessness. Emmas eyes pleaded silently for a way out.
How for good? he asked cautiously, hugging his mother. What about your flat?
Ive let it to tenants for a year, Margaret declared proudly. You told me you were struggling with the kids and money. So I thought theyll pay me rent, Ill give that to you. Ill stay with the grandkids, cook, clean what more could I do?
Tom scratched his head, looking genuinely surprised. Hed complained about the strain of parenthood, but only in passing. Hed never imagined his mother would take it so seriously.
Mom, our flat is tiny, he began carefully. Its already a squeeze for us
Dont worry! Margaret cut in. I wont take up much space. We could put a small sofa in the living room, or I could stay in the spare bedroom with Emily, while you and Jack use the main one.
Emma let out a quiet sigh. The idea of splitting the household across rooms was almost unbearable.
Would you like some tea? she offered, buying a moment to collect her thoughts.
With pleasure! Margaret beamed. I have some biscuits ready. Give me a minute.
She rummaged through her massive bag while Emma tugged Tom into the kitchen.
What are we going to do? Emma whispered, halfclosing the kitchen door. I cant live like this!
Calm down, Tom said, glancing nervously at the hallway. Im shocked too, but shes my mother. I cant just turn her away.
Tom, theres literally nowhere for her, Emma pleaded. Emilys crib and Jacks cot are in the nursery, our bed in the bedroom is pushed against the wall, the sofa in the living room is already tiny. How can one more person fit?
I get it, Tom sighed. Maybe its only temporary? Until she settles down? Then well figure something out.
What temporary? Emma snapped. Shes got a lease for a year! Do you realise what that means? Shell be meddling in everything how I raise the kids, what I cook, how I clean. Ill lose my mind!
Dont exaggerate, Tom frowned. She means well.
For whom? Emmas voice trembled, tears threatening. For herself? Decent people ask before they move in!
Before they could continue, the kitchen door swung wide and Margaret entered with a box of chocolates.
Whatre you two whispering about? she chirped. Plotting against your dear motherinlaw?
Just family matters, Emma replied, forcing a smile. Please, have a seat. Tea is on its way.
The tea didnt smooth things over. Margaret chattered about her neighbour whod also moved in with her son, about the lovely young couple shed let the flat to quiet and tidy. Emma nodded, stealing glances at Tom, who looked more and more despondent.
Mother, where do you plan to sleep? Tom finally asked.
I thought the sofa in the living room, Margaret said. But if youd prefer, I could stay in the spare bedroom with Emily. Shed love having her granny around!
The spare bedroom is cramped, Emma replied gently. It has two beds and a wardrobe; there isnt even room for a chair.
Then the sofa it is, Margaret agreed brightly. Im not fussy. Ill get up early, make breakfast, so you dont have to rush.
Emmas mind raced. Margarets cooking was infamous oversalted soups, burnt meatloaves, pies as heavy as bricks. Yet that seemed the smallest of her worries now.
Mrs Smith, Emma began, gathering courage, we appreciate your help, but could we have discussed this first? Were already cramped, the children are tiny
Discuss what? Margaret waved her hand. A mothers love is a blessing! I see Tom looking tired, dark circles under his eyes. He needs a break. Ill watch the kids, shop, cook lunch.
But your flat Emma persisted.
I told you its rented for a year! Margarets tone hardened. Its settled. You wont be throwing an old woman out on the street, will you?
Tom cleared his throat, placing a reassuring hand on Emmas shoulder. No ones being thrown out. Its just unexpected. Well have to get used to it.
Exactly, Margaret said with a smile. Ill start unpacking.
As she disappeared into the living room with her suitcase, Emma turned to Tom.
So what now?
I dont know, he admitted. Lets see how it goes. If it gets too tight, maybe shell move out on her own.
She rented the flat for a year! Emma snapped. Theres no way out!
Dont lose your cool, Tom tried to calm her. Well sort it.
The next morning proved Emmas worst fears. Margaret rose at six, clanging pots, waking the children. Emily snarled, refusing to get up; Jack wailed. When Emma, exhausted from a night of interrupted sleep, entered the kitchen, she found Margaret proudly announcing, Ive tidied everything! Your cupboards were a mess. Now everything is in order.
Emma stared at the reorganised shelves, where years of carefully arranged dishes were now chaos.
Mrs Smith, Im used to everything having its place, she said cautiously. Now I have no idea where anything is.
Youll get used to the new system, Margaret shrugged. Its far more sensible. Breakfast is ready scrambled eggs with tomatoes. Tom loves those!
Emma looked at the burnton eggs. Tom never liked tomatoes in his eggs, preferring onions and cheese. She didnt have the energy to argue.
The day wore on with tension. Margaret kept pointing out everything Emma supposedly did wrong the way she folded Toms shirts, how she changed Jacks nappy, how she let Emily watch too much TV. By evening Emma felt on the brink of a breakdown.
When Tom came home, Emma dragged him into the bathroom the only place they could speak privately.
I cant take this, she whispered, tears slipping. Shes rearranged everything, and the kids are miserable. Emilys crying because you wont let her play with her favourite doll you said it was too dirty!
Love, give her a bit of patience, Tom sighed. She means well, just cant see shes overstepping.
Talk to her! Emma pleaded. Tell her she cant just barge into our lives and change everything.
Ill try, Tom promised, though he looked weary. She just made a dinner oversalted borscht and tough meatballs. Ill eat it so she doesnt feel hurt, but Im not going to keep pretending its fine.
Dinner turned out no better than breakfast; the soup was briny, the meatballs like shoe leather. Tom forced himself to finish, complimenting Margaret, while Emma barely touched her plate.
That night was even worse. Jack resisted sleeping, and Margaret kept popping into the bedroom offering advice. He finally fell asleep at two in the morning; at six, Margaret was already back in the kitchen, clattering again.
The pattern continued for a week. Emma moved through the days in a fog of sleep deprivation and constant stress. The children began to pick up on the strained atmosphere. Even Tom, who had initially defended his mother, started to see the cracks.
One Friday evening, after the kids finally slept and Emma had locked herself in the bathroom to collect herself, Tom sat down beside her.
Emma, we need to talk about your mothers stay, he began.
What about it? Margaret called from the sofa, knitting a sweater for Tom, though hed always hated wool.
Its about her living here, Tom said carefully.
Is there a problem? Margaret asked, eyes flashing. Am I a burden?
No, its not that, Tom gestured. We just have our own routine, our own way of raising the kids.
Thats exactly why Im here! Margaret snapped. Your children sleep when they want, eat whatever. Im trying to bring order.
But those are our choices, Tom replied, his voice rising. Weve decided how to parent.
What methods? Coddling them? I didnt raise you like that! she retorted.
Mom, Im grateful for how you brought me up, Tom said, losing patience. But times have changed. Emma and I decide whats best for our family.
Youre just being swayed by her! Margaret shouted, setting down her knitting. I see the way they roll their eyes at my food, the way they ignore me when I help with the kids. Im unappreciated!
Nobodys pushing you out, Tom said, exhausted. Maybe we can set some ground rules? You wont move our things without asking, you wont change the kids schedule, youll give Emma space and well welcome your help where its truly needed.
Margarets lips pressed together. So Im doing everything wrong? she asked, voice shaking. Fine, Ill be as quiet as a mouse. I wont even come near the grandchildren.
Mom, you dont have to disappear, Tom said gently. We just need mutual respect.
She stared at the window, knitting needles still in hand, before sighing. Alright then, Ill try.
Emma watched the exchange, feeling the tension ease just a fraction.
Maybe we could help you find a flat nearby? she suggested later, an idea forming. You could come over each morning, watch the kids while were at work, and return to your own place at night.
Margaret looked skeptical. A flat? For how much?
Our savings are modest, but you still receive rent from your tenants. Part of that could go towards a new place.
That could work, Tom said. Youd still be close, still see the grandkids, but youd have your own space.
Margaret considered this. But I wanted to help you with the kids morning and evening
Youll still do that, Emma replied. Just not stay overnight.
And if Jack wakes in the night?
Well handle it, Emma said firmly. Were his parents; thats our responsibility.
After a brief pause, Margaret nodded. Alright, but the new flat must be close. Ill come every day, cook, look after the little ones. But Ill have my own roof over my head.
Tom smiled, relief evident. Great. Well start looking tomorrow.
Within a day we found a modest onebedroom flat just down the road. The rent was reasonable, especially given the income Margaret still earned from her tenants. A week later she moved in, and the chaos at our flat began to subside.
A month later, Margaret was coming over each morning, sitting with Emily and Jack while Tom and I were at work. Having her own place meant she was calmer, and the constant criticism faded. I learned to appreciate her help where it truly mattered.
One evening, after the kids were asleep and Margaret had gone back to her flat, Tom pulled me close.
You were brilliant coming up with the flat idea, he said. Shes happy, were happy, the kids love having Grandma around.
True, I replied, smiling. I was terrified when she first arrived with that suitcase.
Just didnt get the charm of her pies, Tom joked, and we laughed, recalling the early culinary disasters.
On weekends the whole family gathered at Margarets new flat for a big Sunday roast. She finally mastered a decent borscht, I stopped losing my temper at every little thing, the children played happily with their granny, and no one feared losing their toys. I realised that even the most unexpected surprise could turn out for the best, provided we faced it with a little patience and a sensible plan.
