Motherinlaw, youve just thrown away my food in front of everyone!
Are you dressing Michael in that thin sweater again? Its chilly outside!
Its plus fifteen degrees, Mum. He wont freeze.
He wont freeze! You young people have no idea what a child needs. He must be bundled up warmly!
Natalie stands in the hallway, watching her motherinlaw Margaret Thompson peel the light cardigan off her grandson and pull a thick knit sweater over his shoulders. Michael whines and tries to wriggle free, but Margaret is relentless.
Mom, hell overheat, Natalie protests weakly.
Better he gets warm than catch a cold! Margaret snaps, fastening the sweater and nodding approvingly. Thats how it should be. Go on, you two, get out for a walk.
Natalie bites her lip, swallowing any retort. She grabs Michaels hand and leaves the flat. They live a floor above, and Margaret feels it her duty to police every move of her daughterinlaw.
Natalie married David four years ago. At first they rented a small flat on their own. When Michael was born, David suggested they move into the family housemore space and a helping hand from Grandma seemed sensible.
Natalie agreed, but she regrets it within the first week.
Margaret intervenes in everything: how to feed the baby, how to dress him, how to put him to sleep. Natalies opinions are instantly dismissed.
Youre young and inexperienced. Ive raised three children, I know better, Margaret declares.
David usually stays quiet, saying his mother is just being caring and that Natalie shouldnt take it to heart. But Natalie feels like a servant rather than the head of her own home.
The kitchen becomes the battlefield. Margaret boasts about her cooking and rejects every alternative.
Stew must be made this way with smoked ribs! What did you add?
Meatballs should contain bacon! Yours are as dry as a biscuit!
Apple crumble has to rest for three hours, not one!
At first Natalie tries to argue, to prove her methods are also valid, but Margaret never listens. Eventually Natalie stops cooking altogetherwhy bother if everything she does is criticised?
This time she decides to act. The next day is Peter Johnsons birthday, Davids father. Natalie wants to show she can cook, so she rises early while everyone is still asleep and gets to work.
She prepares a shrimp saladPeters favouriteroasts chicken with vegetables, and bakes an apple crumble using her own mothers recipe. She pours her heart into every dish.
By lunchtime the kitchen smells wonderful. Peter steps out of his room, inhales the aroma.
Ah, that looks delicious! Did you make this, Nat? he asks.
Happy birthday, Peter, Natalie replies, smiling.
Thank you, dear! Peter is kind, unlike his wifes mother, and often steps in for Natalie when Margaret starts to scold her.
Margaret bursts into the kitchen, her face twisted with displeasure.
Whats that smell?
Mum, its Natalies cooking for my birthday, Peter says, still smiling.
Margaret pulls the lid off the salad bowl, sniffs, and grimaces.
What is this?
Its shrimp salad, Natalie says. Peter loves it.
Shrimp? He gets heartburn from shrimp! Margaret scoffs.
But he told me he likes them
He never said that! Margaret slams the bowl down. And this?
Its roast chicken with veg.
Margaret opens the oven, pokes the chicken with a fork.
Its dry. Overcooked.
Mom, it just came out of the oven, David interjects, entering the kitchen. Let us at least try a bite.
No need to try, I can see it already, Margaret says, slamming the oven shut. And whats this awful looking cake?
Its an apple crumble, Natalie says, a lump rising in her throat. My mothers recipe.
Your mother cant cook, can she? An apple doesnt make a good cake, Margaret retorts. The apple doesnt fall far from the tree, I suppose.
Natalie clenches her fists. My mother cooks wonderfully!
Sure, she taught you nothing, Margaret sneers, grabbing the shrimp bowl and marching it to the bin.
What are you doing? Natalie lunges toward her.
Im throwing it away. No one will eat it anyway.
In front of everyone, Margaret dumps the salad into the trash. Natalie stands frozen. She spent the whole morning buying fresh, pricey shrimp and arranging everything beautifully, only to watch it disappear.
Mom, what are you doing?! David steps forward. Why did you throw it away?
Because Peter gets heartburn from shrimp! I know whats good for him better than you do!
David, Id love a bite, Peter says, trying to defuse the tension. Why waste it?
Dont argue with me! Margaret turns to her son. Ive looked after you for thirty years, I know whats harmful for you!
Natalie watches the trash, tears threatening to spill, but she refuses to break down in front of Margaret. She turns and leaves the kitchen, retreats to the bedroom, closes the door and finally lets the tears flow.
How could she? Margaret had just tossed her salad away, in front of everyone, humiliating her publicly.
The bedroom door opens quietly. David enters.
Natalie, dont cry. Mums just a bit agitated.
A bit agitated? She threw my food away, in front of everyone!
Well shes really worried about his heartburn. He does get it sometimes.
From shrimp? He told me he loves them!
Maybe he liked them before, but not now.
Natalie looks at David. He again sides with his mother, never once defending his wife.
Why do you always defend her?
Im not defending her. I just understand she wants to control everything.
And my feelings? Does that not matter?
It does, love, it hurts. But try not to take it personally. Mum treats everyone like this.
David, she doesnt respect me at all. Im nothing to her.
Its not true.
Its true! She thinks Im useless, that everything I do is wrong!
David stays silent.
Lets not fight now. Its a birthday, lets sit together.
Natalie shakes her head.
I dont want to.
Natalie
Go without me. Tell them you have a headache.
David sighs, gets up and leaves. Natalie lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling, boiling inside.
Enough. She cant endure this any longer. Something has to change.
That evening, after everyone has gone to bed, Natalie returns to the kitchen. The roast chicken and crumble sit untouched. Margaret has prepared her own dinnerfried potatoes with meat patties. Everyone eats her food; no one even tastes Natalies dishes, except Peter, who sneaks a bite of the crumble, winks, and whispers, Delicious, thank you, dear.
Natalie clears the table, washes the dishes. Margaret sits in the lounge watching TV, never offering help, assuming its Natalies duty.
When Natalie finishes, David appears.
Natalie, Mum wants to speak with you.
About what?
Im not sure. Go on, shes in the lounge.
Natalie wipes her hands and walks in. Margaret turns off the television and faces her.
Sit down.
Natalie sits on the edge of the sofa. Margaret studies her.
I want you to understand one thing: this is my house, my rules. If you intend to stay here youll do as I say.
Natalie stays quiet.
In the kitchen Im the one who cooks. Got it? No more of your shrimp nonsense.
I just wanted to make Peter feel special.
Its only proper to obey your motherinlaw, not to run your own little show.
Im also a member of this family. I have a right to cook.
Margaret smirks.
Youre a family member? Youre living off my provisions. I feed you, I wash for you. What do you do? Sit at home with the baby.
Im caring for him!
I cared for my children while working. All you do is whine.
Natalie jumps up.
Im not whining! I just want respect!
Respect must be earned, Margaret replies, standing as well. What have you done to earn it? Nothing but complaints.
Natalie turns and leaves the room, unable to listen any longer. She heads to the bedroom where David is already lying.
David, we need to move out.
He looks surprised.
Move out where?
Find a flat. I cant live here any longer.
We dont have the money for a rented place.
Well find it. Ill get a job.
What about Michael?
Well put him in nursery.
Natalie, be realistic. My salary barely covers our bills. If we add rent, therell be nothing left.
So I just stay with your mother forever?
Shes not that terrible
David! She threw my food away today, in front of everyone! She humiliated me!
Maybe she overreacted, but dont make a scene of it.
David watches his phone, oblivious to how much it hurts Natalie.
You always side with her.
Im not sidestepping. I just dont see the point in fighting.
My opinion matters?
It does, but lets be adults. Bear with it a little longer. Ill get a bonus in six months, well save, then move.
Six months. Another halfyear of Margaret. Natalie wonders if she can survive that long.
Theres no other option. They truly have no cash for a flat, and Natalie cant stay at home fulltime with a threeyearold.
The next morning Margaret acts as if nothing happened, preparing breakfast and issuing orders. Natalie eats quietly, avoiding eye contact.
Later, Natalies mother calls.
Natalie, love, hows the birthday going?
Natalie steps onto the balcony, away from ears.
Its terrible.
What happened?
She explains the salad incident and Margarets tirade. Her mother listens.
Darling, why are you putting up with this? Move out.
Theres no money.
We could help. Your dad and I could
No, Mum, youre barely getting by yourselves.
But you cant stay like this! Shes humiliating you!
I know. David promised well move in six months.
Her mother falls silent.
Maybe you could get a parttime job? Even half a day would bring in some cash and give you a break from Margaret.
What about Michael?
Theres a nursery nearby. Or a babysitter.
David says its too early for nursery.
Michaels three. Thats the perfect age.
Natalie nods, even though her mother cant see her. She decides to confront David that night after Michael is asleep.
David, I want a job.
He looks up from his laptop.
A job? Why?
So we have money and can move sooner.
What about Michael?
Well put him in nursery. Hes three, its fine.
David frowns.
Mom says nursery is bad, kids catch colds.
All kids get colds. Hell make friends, develop.
Mom will object.
Let Mom stay out of it! This is our child, our decision!
David hesitates.
Alright, well try. Just keep it from Mom for now.
Why?
Because shell try to stop us.
Natalie agrees. The next day she signs Michael up for nursery; the waiting list promises a place in a month.
A month later she secures a parttime admin job at a small firm, nine to three, which lets her pick Michael up after work.
When everything is set, she tells Margaret.
Im starting work on Monday.
Margaret lifts her head from the pot.
A job? What about Michael?
In nursery.
A nursery? Who decided that?
We, David and I.
You didnt even ask me?
This is our decision.
Margaret hurls a ladle into the sink.
Your decision! Sending our child to nursery and you going to workwhat a mother you are?
Im a normal mother. Many women work and send their kids to nursery.
Many! I never did that! I stayed home, raised them! And you think you can build a career?
I want to earn my own money.
Earn? Your husband cant support you?
He can. But I also want independence.
Independence? Does your child matter to you?
He matters! I just think nursery wont hurt him.
It will! Infections, bad influences! Michael will fall ill!
Its my decision, Natalie says firmly. Im working, period.
Margarets face turns red.
David! Come here!
David steps in.
Whats happening?
Your wife wants to give up the child and go to work!
David, we talked about this. Natalie wants to work, thats fine.
Fine? You let her send Michael to nursery without asking me?
Yes.
Didnt you ask me?
Mom, its our matter.
Margaret remains silent, staring at David, then storms out of the kitchen, slamming the bedroom door.
David pulls Natalie into a hug.
Itll pass. Shell cool down.
But Margaret stays silent for a week, refusing to speak to Natalie, cooking only for herself and Peter. David and Natalie end up cooking for themselves.
Natalie doesnt mind. At last she can make her own dishes without criticism.
On Monday she begins work. Michael goes to nursery and loves it, running home with stories about new friends and his teacher.
Margaret predicts hell cry and get sick, but nothing happens. Michael is happy.
At work her colleagues are friendly, the boss fair. The salary is modest, but its hers. She saves every penny.
Three months later Natalie and David have scraped together enough for a deposit and the first months rent on a modest twobedroom flat in a leafy suburb. They tell their parents.
David drags his mother into the living room later that evening.
Mom, we need to talk.
Margaret eyes him warily.
What about?
Were moving out. Weve rented a flat.
Silence hangs. Margaret places her teacup down slowly.
Moving out?
Yes. We need our own space.
So you dont like it here? Margaret repeats, echoing.
No, its just
Youre ungrateful! Ive fed you, washed for you, looked after Michael! And youre just leaving?
Mom, were grateful, but were adults now and need our own home.
Its all her fault! Margaret points at Natalie. Shes turned you against me!
Peter, Davids father, rises.
Margaret, calm down. Theyre right. They need their own life.
Dont interfere! Margaret yells. You never cared about me, you just
Peter sighs.
Its her way of controlling everything. Youll see theyll be fine.
David pats his fathers shoulder. Well visit on weekends, holidays.
Of course, of course, Peter says, patting Davids back. Just be happy.
Natalie smiles, finally feeling understood.
A week later they move into the new flat. Margaret never says goodbye, staying in her bedroom, watching from a distance. Peter helps carry boxes, wishing them well.
The new place is small but cosy. Natalie decorates it with gusto, finally feeling like a true head of a household. She cooks what she likes, cleans how she sees fit, and no one nags.
David relaxes without his mothers constant oversight; their relationship returns to the closeness of early love.
Michael delights in his own bedroom and his toys. He thrives at nursery, making friends.
Margaret doesnt call. Shes hurt and remains silent. Peter calls regularly, asking after them, admitting he misses his daughterinlaw but respects her choice.
Six months pass. Natalie is settled into independent life, unable to imagine how she once endured Margarets domination.
One weekend David suggests a visit to the parents.
Nat, lets drop by. Its Mums place.
Alright, Natalie agrees. Lets go.
They arrive midday. Peter opens the door, beaming.
Come in, come in! Little Michael, youve grown!
Margaret steps out of the kitchen, pauses, then nods.
Hello.
Natalie hands her a bouquet of flowers.
For you.
Margaret takes them quietly.
They sit down to a meal Margaret preparesstill delicious, as always. Conversation is strained; she answers shortly, avoiding Natalies eyes.
After lunch David heads to the garage with his father. Natalie stays with Michael in the lounge while Margaret clears the table.
Natalie stands, walks to the kitchen.
Margaret, may I help?
No, thank you, Margaret replies coldly.
Could I at least wash the dishes?
Didnt I say no?
Natalie sighs.
Margaret, can we make peace? No need to fight.
Margaret stops, turns slowly.
Make peace? You live elsewhere now.
But were family. Id like us to get along.
Margaret is silent for a moment.
You took my son away.
I didnt. David decided wed move.
You convinced him.
No. We just wanted our own space. Thats normal for a young couple.
Margaret lowers onto a chair.
I always dreamed my son would live with me, my grandchildren close by.
Were close. We visit, we call.
It isnt the same.
Natalie sits opposite her.
I understand. But we needed our own home. I could no longer stay where I felt worthless, constantly criticised.
Margaret looks down.
When you threw my salad away, it hurt deeply. I spent the morning buying fresh shrimp, arranging everything, only to see it disappear.
I thought shrimp would give PeterMargaret finally nodded, admitting she had been too controlling, and promised to respect Natalies choices from then on.
