I dont understand why my wife dreads her mothers visit until she arrives and takes over our lives.
When my motherinlaw, Margaret, calls to say shell stay a few days with us, I instantly see Emma tighten up.
I cant see why shes so nervous. After all, Margaret lives alone in Leeds and hardly ever comes to our quiet cottage near the Lake District. I tell myself it will be a nice family catchup.
But the closer the date gets, the more tense Emma looks.
Why are you so worked up? I ask, laughing. Shell be here a few days, enjoy our company, see the kids it cant be that bad.
Emma gives me a weary, almost resigned stare.
You dont know her like I do, she murmurs.
At that moment I convince myself shes exaggerating.
I have no idea whats about to happen.
The invasion
Margaret arrives with two massive suitcases, as if she plans to move in for good. She doesnt even stop for a kiss before stepping inside, eyeing the house with a critical gaze like an inspector checking everything meets her standards.
At first things seem normal. She hugs us, hands the children presents, and gives us a bag brimming with homemade jam, biscuits and readymade dishes.
I think Emma is worrying for nothing.
Then the next morning arrives.
And the house is no longer ours.
This is your coffee? How dreadful! How can you drink something so bitter? she exclaims, looking at me as I sip my mug.
I smile, assuming shes joking.
She is far from finished.
These curtains are hideous! They make the room gloomy. We need new ones.
Why have you put the sofa there? It makes no sense! The whole layout needs rearranging.
You still dont wash the dishes properly? First rinse with hot water, then scrub, then rinse again!
Within hours she has taken over the cottage, overturning our routines and imposing her own rules.
Emma stays silent, but I can see how hard she is trying not to say anything.
Margaret isnt done yet.
A déjàvu
The whole scene reminds me oddly of an episode a few months ago with Emmas younger sister, Lily.
Margaret had travelled to Bristol to visit Lily, planning to stay two weeks. She left after just four days.
We wondered why. Lily is always easygoing and never complains.
Eventually we worked it out.
Margaret behaved exactly the same there: criticizing Lilys parenting, rearranging the kitchen, dictating how Lily should run her life.
Lily couldnt stand it for long. She quietly packed a suitcase, bought a train ticket and escorted Margaret back to the station without a word.
And now the story repeats itself.
Only this time were trapped.
The point of no return
After four days the tension becomes unbearable.
I get home from work to find Emma sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly.
I sit opposite her.
Ive had enough, she whispers.
That morning Margaret has crossed every line.
You dont make a proper breakfast for your husband? Just cereal? Thats a childs meal!
You never call me! A daughter should look after her mother!
Ive been thinking what if I move in with you? Im alone in Leeds, youre my family now
Its too much.
We realise that if we do nothing, shell never leave.
The next morning we summon all our courage and tell her its time to go.
She freezes.
So, Im a bother. Youre going to kick me out, like you did to Lily, right?
We try to explain we simply need our space and were exhausted.
She refuses to listen.
In silence she slams her suitcases shut and walks out without even saying goodbye.
The calm after the storm
When shes gone, the quiet that settles over the cottage feels almost surreal.
Emma and I remain at the kitchen table, sipping tea in silence, still reeling from the past few days.
Do you think shell ever forgive us? Emma asks softly.
I sigh. I have no idea.
But for the first time in a week I finally feel a weight lift.
A neverending circle
A week later Lily calls.
I cant believe you did that to Mum! she exclaims, outraged.
Emma and I exchange a look.
How ironic.
When Margaret was at Lilys, she lasted no more than four days before sending her back.
Now she accuses us of doing the same.
We sit in stunned silence after the call, lost in thought.
Do all parents become like this as they agemore intrusive, more demanding, more oppressive?
And the most frightening question of all
Will we one day become like her?
