**Diary Entry: The Mother-in-Law**
Margaret Elizabeth was a born mother-in-lawnot the quiet, reserved kind, but the loud, bossy, no-nonsense sort. Her own mother, Lydia, used to whisper to her friends about the newborn baby girl: “She lies there in her crib, scowling, fists clenchedlike a proper mother-in-law already!”
Luckily, Lydias own mother-in-law, Victoria, lived in the next county over and rarely visited. But when she did, the whole bakery where Lydia worked knew about it. The dough wouldnt rise, shed mix up sugar and salt, and her pastries came out lopsided while she flinched at every sound.
“Listen, love, take some unpaid leave,” the manager snapped one day. “Come back when shes gone.”
“Margaret, have mercy!” Lydia yanked off her flour-dusted cap and pressed it to her chest. “Works my only escape! Otherwise, Id spend all day appeasing her and apologising.”
“For what?”
“For everything! Cooking wrong, cleaning wrong, raising her son wrongMargaret, I dont even draw the curtains right!”
“And how *should* you?”
“No idea. But not like *this*!”
When Margaret was born, Victoria swooped in immediately, demanding the baby be named after her late mother, insisting on a christening (though the parents, staunch atheists, risked trouble), terrifying the midwife, and driving Lydia to nervous exhaustion before flouncing off, convinced the silly girl would ruin the child.
Lydia wept for a week. Her husband, Geoffrey, dipped into his savingsmeant for a fishing boatand bought her a gold locket.
Despite Victorias grim predictions, baby Margaret not only survived but thrivedwalking, talking, and potty-trained ahead of schedule. By five, she baffled adults with questions like, “Whats your favourite thing about being alive?” and “Why do people smile when theyre sad?”
She handled her grandmother just as efficiently. One visit, Victoria erupted over the couples new sofa (“Beige? Impractical!”). Five-year-old Margaret grabbed her bags and dragged them toward the door.
“Oi, where dyou think youre going with those?”
“You came without love. You shout at Mum. Go home.”
“Youve turned her against me!” Victoria shrieked.
But Margaret thrust a doll into her face. “Take it. I dont want your presents. Learn some manners.”
“Got you there, eh, Mum?” Geoffrey laughed. “Our Maggies sharp. I came home tipsy onceshe lectured me for a *week*.”
After that, Lydia kept Margaret home whenever Victoria visited, ensuring she left before unloading her grievances.
At school, Margaret was a natural leaderhead girl, debate team captain, top marks in maths and science (though she dismissed literature: “Bears dont talk. Chernyshevskys a bore.”). Teachers urged university, but she chose distance learningMums health was shaky, and Gran needed visiting. Then Daniel Whittaker, the factory foremans son, returned from military service, gaped at her in her graduation dress, and blurted, “Blimey, Maggie, you look fit!”
She scoffed. “Just wait till my weddingIll be *royalty*.”
“Right then!” he grinned. “Ill tell Mum to get me a grey suitsharp, like.”
Without a single “I love you” or kiss, they planned everything: guest lists, honeymoon spots, even their sons names. They moved to Manchester for studies, returned engaged, and had three boys in quick succession.
Margaret climbed the ranks at work, leaving Danielcontent with fishing tripsin her dust. She ran the factory floor like a general, earning the nickname “The Sergeant-Major.”
Then came the daughters-in-law.
First, Saraha glamorous, strong-willed Londoner who whisked their eldest, Alex, abroad. Margaret bit her tongue (“Shes got him learning *French*!”), though the lack of a proper wedding irked her friends.
Next, timid Alice, who hid behind Vladimir and cooked like a dream. When she gave them twins, the Kushes doted on her.
Last was Juliea giggling whirlwind who laughed at *everything*, including Margarets initials (“G.G.!”). Their wedding photos showed solemn guests and a bride doubled over with laughter.
Now, with three happy sons, six grandchildren, and a retirement spent between Julies cartoons and Alices lasagne, Margaret sometimes overhears her old mates:
“Whod have thought tough old Maggied turn into such a soft touch?”
Maybe luck. Maybe they never really knew her.
**Lesson:** Lifes too short to be the mother-in-law everyone expects. Sometimes, the best familys the one you never saw coming.
