5November
The morning started with a shrill ring from my mobile. The caller ID showed Agnes Harper. My motherinlaw had already tried to reach us twice before I answered. I inhaled a steady breath, steadied my nerves, and pressed the green button.
Hello, Agnes, I said, trying to keep my tone even.
James, why arent you picking up? Ive been calling all morning! Her voice carried that unmistakable reproach, as if shed been waiting for a chance to lecture.
I was busy making porridge for Mabel, I replied, though the truth was I simply didnt feel like hearing yet another lecture on my parenting.
Again with the porridge! I told you children need meat. My son, Tom, grew up on steak and look at him nowstrong as an ox! Your little Mabel is as pale as a ghost; the wind will blow her away if you dont change that.
I closed my eyes and counted to five. Mabel was only three, and the paediatrician had confirmed she was developing normally. Her slight frame was, I reminded myself, more a family trait than a deficiency.
We do give her meat, Agnes. Todays lunch will be meatballs, I answered.
Good! Thats why Im calling. Ill drop by this afternoon with a chicken broth, made on the bones, just the way Tom likes it. Ill also bring my special meatball recipe, because your meatballs are insufficient.
The sarcasm in her words felt like a dagger aimed at my kitchen.
Dont worry, we have everything we need, I tried to reassure her.
Worry? Im coming to see my granddaughter! You cant refuse, can you? She phrased the request so that any answer other than yes would sound rude.
Of course, youre welcome, I relented.
When the call ended, I rested my forehead against the cool window pane. Snowflakes drifted lazily outside, settling on the bare branches of the park trees. November had turned grim and damp.
Mum, who were you talking to? Mabel peeked from her bedroom, clutching her wellworn plush rabbit.
Grandma Agnes is coming over today, I said, brightening my voice.
Is she going to say I dont eat enough again? she frowned.
My heart tightened. Even our child sensed the constant criticism.
Grandma loves you very much and just wants you to grow up strong and healthy, I said, hoping it would sound reassuring.
Mabel nodded, though she seemed unconvinced, and returned to her toys.
Now came the frantic cleaning. Although my wife Emily and I usually lived in a pleasant, creative clutter, we knew the flat had to sparkle before Agnes arrived. Otherwise she would surely remark that the place smelled like a barn and that bacteria would set up shop.
In two hours I swept the floors, dusted the surfaces, and even baked an apple crumblethe only thing Emily ever made that Agnes praised.
Sergeyour neighbour and friendwas supposed to finish his remotework shift by lunchtime, but today he had an important client meeting and needed to be at the office. I could only hope everything would be ready before Agness punctual arrival at two oclock sharp, as reliable as a London bus.
The doorbell rang exactly at the appointed hour. Agnes, a short, stout woman with chestnutcoloured hair, entered the flat, her arms loaded with bags.
Well, look whos here, my dear daughterinlaw! she announced grandly. Wheres my little princess?
Mabel timidly poked her head out of the bedroom.
Come here, sweetheart! Grandma has brought treats! Agnes cooed, reaching for Mabels hand. She had taught our girl that a proper lady should always greet elders with a kiss on the hand.
Only grownup girls get handkisses, love, Agnes declared, pulling Mabel into a brief hug. When youre sixteen, youll be the one offering them to gentlemen. For now, you just say hello.
I rolled my eyes silently, hoping she wouldnt notice. The contradictions in her advice were more than enough.
Let me help with the bags, I offered.
Yes, dear, put them in the kitchen. Ive prepared everything! Tom needs a proper diet, not the random bits you serve. She immediately began issuing orders.
Emily, fetch the large potno, not the plastic one, the proper metal one. And where do you keep the bread? In the fridge? Thatll make it go stale! she scolded, as if I were an apprentice.
I handed her the requested items, accustomed over the past six years to her knowitall demeanor.
Mabel looks a little pale today, Agnes observed while arranging jars of pickles. Do you take her out for walks? Give her vitamins?
Yes, we stroll when the weather allows, and we give her the supplement the paediatrician recommended, Emily replied.
Paediatricians! What do they know? In my day we kept children outdoors from dawn till dusk. Wed send Tom out in any weather, and look at him nowstrong as a bull! she exclaimed, recalling a bygone era.
I kept silent, remembering that Sergey had suffered bouts of bronchitis each winter and chronic tonsillitis as a child.
Ive made a crumble. Would you like a cup of tea? I asked.
First we eat lunch, then tea. And wheres Tom? He should be here by now, she prompted.
Just then the hallway lock clicked.
Ah, there he is! Agnes exclaimed as Sergey entered, eyes widening at the assortment of shoes by the door.
Mum, why didnt you tell me you were coming? he asked, surprised.
I called Emily this morning! Agnes retorted, clearly unaware that I had forgotten to forward the message.
I forced a apologetic smile at my husband. My phone had buzzed with the reminder, but Id been too preoccupied.
Hey, Mum, Sergey said, giving his mother a quick hug. How are you feeling?
Blood pressures up, my legs swell by evening, but Im not complaining. We manage ourselves, dont burden anyone, she replied, a familiar refrain that always came with a litany of ailments.
Lets get you settled. Ive been heating the oven for your favourite dishes, Sergey said, glancing at the kitchen.
During lunch, Agnes drifted into nostalgic stories about Toms early readingHe could read at four! And the poems he recited Mabel, do you know any?
Mabel stared at her plate, silent.
She knows a lot of verses, I chimed. Mabel, tell Grandma about the bear.
I dont want to, the child muttered, frowning.
Thats why we should consider nursery, Agnes suggested, waving her hands. A child who doesnt chat needs more socialising.
Sergey interjected, Weve agreed to wait until shes four. No need to rush her development.
Rushed? I raised Tom on my own, and he turned out fine. Your little girl is shy, wont eat properly Agnes complained.
Mabel pushed her plate away. Can I go play? she asked.
No, finish your meatball first, Agnes snapped.
Eat up, love, Emily said gently, though the tension was palpable.
Mabel forced a bite, and Agnes, satisfied, remarked, Much better. Youre spoiling her, letting her have her way. A child needs routine and discipline. When I raised Tom
After the meal, Agnes insisted on putting Mabel down for a nap, declaring, Children must nap! Its essential for a proper schedule. I wanted to argue that Mabel no longer slept during the day and that forcing a nap would ruin her nights rest, but Sergey gave a soft shake of his head, preferring peace over a quarrel.
Just let her rest a bit, he whispered.
While Agnes tried to lull Mabel, I brewed tea and sliced the crumble. Half an hour later she returned, exasperated. Shes completely unmanageable! In my day we never had a child who didnt obey.
I nearly blurted, We didnt have the luxury of being beaten for disobedience back then, but swallowed the retort.
Its just that shes not tired yet, Sergey soothed. Try the crumble, Agnes. I made it especially for you.
She eyed the slice suspiciously. No artificial additives, I hope? Those store mixes are terrible.
Its all homemadeflour, eggs, apples from our garden, the very ones you gave us, Emily assured.
That softened her tone. Youve learned, at least. I remember when you first married, you couldnt even fry an egg properly.
I stayed silent, though I could have reminded her that Id been on my own for ten years before we met and could handle a kitchen just finejust not the way she preferred.
Tom, Agnes said, turning to Sergey, could you pop over next week? The bathroom taps leaking and the cupboard lights out. Im too frail to climb a ladder.
Ill be there on Wednesday, he replied, looking guilty.
Its actually Thursday for meNina will be visiting then. Maybe Tuesday? Agnes suggested.
But Tuesday I have a client call, Sergey protested.
Fine, Ill just sit with the tap then. It isnt the first time, she sighed, a hint of triumph in her voice.
I felt the familiar sting of subtle blackmail, the endless reproaches.
Ill go with you to check the tap, Sergey offered, finally giving in.
Agness face lit up with satisfaction. Great! And maybe you could look at the hallway wallpaperthose fiveyearold papers are an eyesore.
Wheres Mabel playing? I asked suddenly.
In her room, looking at books. I told her not to scatter her toys, Agnes replied.
I peeked into the bedroom and saw Mabel carefully cutting pictures out of a brandnew picture book we had ordered just the day before.
Mabel! What are you doing? I exclaimed.
She looked up, unflustered. Grandma said I could cut pictures to make an album. She gave me scissors.
I grabbed the pristine booka costly, beautifully illustrated volume wed been eager to read. Mabel, thats a new book! We just started it yesterday, I said, feeling my throat tighten.
Tears welled in her eyes. Grandma said she sniffed.
I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. Its okay, love. Next time you want to cut something, ask me or Dad first, alright?
I returned to the kitchen, where Agnes was animatedly chatting with Sergey about a neighbour on the fifth floor who had just had a serious health scare.
Agnes, I interjected calmly, did you give Mabel the scissors?
Yes, what of it? Children need to learn handy skills. We were always gluing and cutting in my day. Nowadays theyre glued to screens.
But she ruined a brandnew bookone we ordered online just yesterday, I replied, trying to keep my voice even.
Books are just paper, she shrugged. Shell have a lovely album. Its good for creativity.
Sergey, caught between his mother and his wife, finally spoke, Mum, it would have been nice to check with us first.
Ah, so now I need permission to spend time with my own grandchild? Agnes snapped. Who am I, a stranger in this house?
No one says that, Sergey tried to calm her. But there are boundaries.
Boundaries? she scoffed. Between a grandmother and her granddaughter? I raised Tom alone! I know how to raise children, unlike some who cant even make a decent lunch!
Mum! Sergey raised his voice. Enough, right now!
Silence fell. Mabel peeked out, eyes wide. Grandma is shouting, she whispered.
In an instant Agnes softened, Come here, my dear. Im not shouting, just having a grownup conversation. Lets finish our album together, okay?
No, I said firmly. No more cutting books. Mabel will watch a cartoon with Dad, and well talk, Agnes.
She opened her mouth to protest, but Sergey already held Mabels hand.
Shall we watch Frozen? he suggested.
As they left, I offered Agnes a seat. Agnes, I know you love Mabel and want the best for her. We have our own ways of parenting, and wed appreciate it if you respected them.
So I should stay silent when I think a child is being raised wrongly? she retorted, lips pursed.
Youre welcome to advise, but not to decide for us. And please, dont tell Mabel she can do things we normally forbid, I added.
What, like cutting books, or skipping the afternoon nap, or eating sweets before lunch? she asked, a hint of sarcasm.
So I shouldnt spoil her? Then why do we have grandmothers? I replied, feeling the weight of the generation gap.
She huffed, gathering her bags. If thats how it is, Ill go. I have nothing to do here if I cant even have a decent chat with my granddaughter.
Dont dramatise, I said, weary. Just, lets try to respect each others space.
She muttered something about thirty years teaching and raising a son alone, now having to ask permission to let a child cut pictures, and slumped into her coat.
Sergey emerged from the hallway. Mum, are you leaving?
Yes, Im off. Your wife doesnt like how Im with Mabel, she replied.
Mum, dont. Let me escort you and maybe check the tap? Sergey offered.
A faint smile appeared on Agness face. If youll bring a screwdriver, theres a loose hinge in the cupboard as well.
They left, and I sank onto the sofa, exhausted. Mabel quietly climbed onto my lap.
Mum, I wont cut books again, she promised seriously. I didnt know it was wrong.
Love, youre not at fault, I whispered, hugging her. Next time Grandma suggests something, well talk about it first, okay?
She nodded, snuggling close.
Sergey returned after an hour, looking tired but satisfied. Tap fixed, light replaced, cupboard tightened. Mum sends her apologies and says shell stay out of the parenting for now.
Should I believe her? I chuckled.
He sat beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Probably not. But at least well have a quiet week.
We laughed, realizing that maybe one day our relationship with Agnes would smooth out, or maybe it never would. For now we have our little family, our home, and our own rules and well defend them, come what may.
Lesson learned: love can be loud, but setting firm boundaries is the quiet strength that keeps a family together.
