**Diary Entry**
*Sunday, 12 March*
Oh, so youve decided to play housewife now? My mother-in-law smirked, eyeing the new curtains.
Wheres my grandson? The first words I heard as I opened the door. Margaret Carter stood on the threshold, a bulky bag in hand, her expression sour.
Hello, Margaret, I said politely. Olivers nappingI just put him down an hour ago.
Napping? At two in the afternoon? She huffed, pushing past me. By his age, my Andrew was up and about half the day.
I swallowed the jab and helped her with her coat. Every visit from Margaret was an ordeal. She could find fault in anythingfrom how I raised my son to the way I washed dishes.
Would you like tea? I offered, heading to the kitchen.
Of course. And put out those biscuitsthe oat ones I brought last time.
She wandered into the living room and froze by the window. Yesterday, Id finally hung the new curtainssoft beige with a gold sheen, something Id spent weeks choosing. Id saved up from my wages, wanting to make the house feel cosier.
Oh, so youve decided to play housewife now? Margarets mocking tone made my chest tighten. What lavish extravagance.
Again. Again, Id done something wrong in her eyes.
The old ones were worn through, I said quietly. Andrew agreed it was time to replace them.
Andrew agreed? She turned sharply. And how much did these cost? Half my sons monthly wages, Id wager.
I used my own money.
Your own? She sank into the armchair, studying me. Shouldnt a family share finances? Or are you making all the decisions now?
I set a cup of tea in front of her and sat opposite. This conversation was veering into familiar, unpleasant territory.
Andrew and I discuss everything, I said.
Do you? She sipped the tea and frowned. Too weak. Ive told you how to brew it properly. And these curtainsthey dont suit the room at all.
I glanced at the windows. To me, they were perfectsoftening the light, warming the space.
I like them, I said softly.
You like them, she echoed. And your husbands opinion? His mothers?
Andrew approved.
Andrews too soft, she sighed. Hates conflict. And you take advantage.
A cry came from the nurseryOliver was awake. I stood, but Margaret was already moving.
Ill go. At least I can spend proper time with my grandson.
She vanished down the hall, leaving me at the table, staring at the curtains. Were they really so awful? Should I have consulted her first?
Her cooing voice drifted from the nurserygentle, patient, nothing like the sharp critic she was with me.
Hannah! she called. Come here! Look at your child!
My stomach dropped. I rushed in. Margaret stood by the cot, Oliver in her arms.
Whats wrong?
Whats wrong? Hes got nappy rash! Dont you notice these things? Dont you care for your own son?
I stepped closer. A slight rednessnothing serious.
Its from the new nappies, I said. Mild reaction. Ive been using cream.
Cream? She shook her head. In my day, we raised children without such nonsense. And they turned out fine.
But now there are better
Now theres too much coddling, she cut in. The child suffers while his mother wastes money on curtains.
Tears pricked my throat. Every visit ended like thisme feeling like a failure of a mother, a failure of a wife.
I take care of Oliver, I whispered.
Do you? She thrust him into my arms. Then why is he so thin? Andrew was much sturdier at his age.
The GP says his weights normal.
Doctors, doctors, she muttered. Wheres a mothers instinct? I can see hes underfed.
I held Oliver close. He was healthy, thriving. But to Margaret, I was always doing something wrong.
We returned to the living room. She settled back into the armchair, surveying the space.
When did you even have time to hang these? Neglecting your duties while the baby slept?
Andrew helped me last night after work.
Andrew helped? She scoffed. Bothering a man with trifles. My Andrew never did such things.
I bit my tongue. Useless to argue.
How much did they cost?
Fifty pounds.
Fifty pounds? For curtains? Have you lost your mind? That couldve bought Oliver clothes for months!
He has clothes. The old curtains were three years worn.
They were fine! Not garish like these.
Garish? The curtains were muted, elegant.
Footsteps in the hallAndrew was home. Relief washed over me.
Mum! He grinned, kissing her cheek. How long have you been here?
Just arrived, she said, hugging him. Missed you.
Missed you too. Everything alright?
Came to see my grandson, but hes covered in rash. And so thin.
Andrew frowned at me, then at her.
Mum, hes perfectly healthy. No rash.
I saw it myself. Youre just too busy to notice.
Hannah takes excellent care of him.
Margaret pursed her lips.
If you say so. But you should watch how she spends. Fifty pounds on curtains! What next?
Andrew finally noticed the curtains.
Oh, you hung them! They look brilliant.
Fifty pounds, she repeated slowly. For curtains.
And? We saved for them.
Saved?
Yes. Hannah set aside a bit each month. Wanted it to be a surprise.
Margaret eyed me anewnot with approval, but suspicion.
Saving behind your husbands back? Convenient.
Mum, enough, Andrew snapped. We agreed on refreshing the house. Hannah handled it.
Handled it, she echoed. Making decisions for everyone.
Andrews patience frayed.
Mum, whats the issue? Shes made the place homelier.
For whom? Herself?
For us, he said firmly.
She fell silent, simmering. Oliver began to fusshungry.
Ill feed him, I said.
No, wait. She held up a hand. Give me the bottle. Ill do it.
Hes breastfed.
What? Still? Hes eight months!
The health visitor recommends a year at least.
Oh, recommendations, she muttered. Time he learned independence.
Mum, stop, Andrew cut in. Breastfeedings best for him.
Best, best, she waved dismissively. Children thrived without it in my day.
I slipped away to nurse Oliver, Andrews low argument with his mother just murmurs through the wall.
When I returned, Margaret was gathering her things.
Leaving so soon?
Yes, things to do.
She kissed Olivers head and marched out. Andrew walked her to the door.
Mum, dont fuss over nothing, he said. Hannahs a wonderful wife and mother.
If you say so, came her chilly reply. But mark my wordswhen a woman starts acting on her own, trouble follows.
The door shut. Andrew slumped onto the sofa.
What did she say?
Nothing worth repeating.
But his tired expression said enough. Every visit left us drained.
Maybe talk to her? I ventured.
About what? She raised me alonecontrols all she knows. We just have to bear it.
And I have to bear her criticism?
He pulled me close.
Im sorry. I know its hard. She doesnt mean harmjust fears losing me.
So this is forever?
I dont know, he admitted. Lets just live our lives. Ignore her.
I nodded, though I knew ignoring was impossible. Every barb struck deep.
That evening, the three of us sat togetherOliver on the rug, Andrew watching telly, me cooking. Domestic peace. Yet Margarets words lingered.
Andrew, do you really like the curtains?
Course I do. Why?
Your mother said they dont fit.
He glanced at the windows.
Mums stuck in her ways. Any change rattles her. Theyre lovely.
Was fifty too much?
Hannah, stop. Theyre worth every penny. The house feels warmer. Mum just pinches pennies.
I relaxed slightly. But the doubt lingered. Why must everything I do be picked
