We were living in my husband’s parents’ home at the initial stages of our marriage. I didn’t like it but then my husband thought it was a waste of money to rent a place when his parents had a very big house to accommodate us. We had just started life together so I thought it was a money issue that was preventing him from renting. After a year, I brought the topic again and his excuse was the same so I told him, “My parents have a big house too, would you mind if we move there?” He said no and his reason was this, “It’s not dignifying for a man to live in the house of his in-laws.”
That’s all I wanted him to say and he did say. I told him, “It’s the same thing if we continue living here. A man has to be the Lord of his own home. Let’s put money together, we’ll get a decent accommodation. When life gets better, we could rent a better one or get our own home.”
We got a place and moved. He didn’t like the idea but I pushed for it strongly and he grudgingly obliged. For once I felt like a true married woman. Not too long afterward, I got pregnant and gave birth. My husband’s mother came to visit and later decided I needed a helping hand since the baby was my first. That meant, she was going to stay with us and help me take care of the baby. I didn’t fight the idea. She came to live with us and provided help as and when we needed it.
Then she started extending help in areas we didn’t need;
- She started telling me how soft or hard I should cook rice.
- She started dictating the times we should eat in the house and when not to.
- She planned the menu according to what her son preferred.
- She was the nurse. She determined how I should feed the baby as against what was prescribed at the hospital
- She was in charge of the TV remote and you dare not change the TV without her permission.
And most importantly, she overstayed the reason for her coming. After five months, I was able to handle issues concerning my baby by myself but she kept living with us.
I called my husband’s attention to it. I told him, “Your mom has been helpful and I appreciate it but I think I can take things from here and by this time, your father also needs her around. Talk to her so she doesn’t have to stress herself on things.” That was the best way I could put it. I wanted him to read between the lines but he couldn’t. He responded, “She’ll leave when she’s tired. Allow her.”
“When she’s tired? What if she doesn’t get tired?”
Not too long afterward, she left. My heart was grateful for getting the opportunity to be my husband’s wife without interruption.
One evening, it was a week to my husband’s birthday, we heard a knock on our door. My husband went to get the door and guess who walked in…his mother. Again! This time her reason for coming was simple. “My son would be forty next week and I want to be here and celebrate with him. Who even told her there was going to be a celebration? But she walked straight into the room, made her self comfortable as though she didn’t need anyone’s permission to come around.
A week later, the birthday was over. A month later, she was still living with us, dictating the pace of our lives like she was the Lord of our creation. My husband said nothing so I was the one to say something, and this time I was frank and straightforward; “Your mother makes things very uneasy in this house. She wants all of us to dance to her tunes but this is our home. We got it because you and I are old enough to manage our own lives but here she is, ordering us around. Please do something about it.”
I stopped eating the food she cooked. I cooked mine. She didn’t eat what I cooked so she cooked hers. At any moment in time, our fridge was full because we had things in twos. We were wasting money and getting into each other’s way. We were like rivals. To make matters worse, my husband ate what her mother cooked and left mine unattended to. Who was the wife?
I took one month’s leave from work, packed some of my stuff and left the house for both of them.
He called to ask where I was and I told him I had gone home to my parents. He asked, “When are you coming back?” I told him, “When your mother leaves.” He said, “Has it come to that? you hate her that much?” I answered, “Dear, I don’t hate your mom. I love her just the way I love my parents. She had been my help before, how could I hate her? All I’m asking is for her to give me the chance to be your wife and also enjoy my marriage.”
He gave a deep sigh and asked, “So you won’t come until she leaves?” I told him, “I will come today if you need me that much but if that much is true, then you’ll tell your mother to give us space to be man and wife. I can’t tell her to leave, she’ll misinterpret it. You’re the best person to do that and you’re not. Do something, please. It’s killing me.”
I wasn’t expecting him to call me soon to tell me the mother was gone. I was giving them the space to have a dialogue; mom and son dialogue. One week…two weeks…three weeks, the mother was still there. We were talking each day and he was telling me how he was trying to get her to understand. I was patiently waiting to return home.
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One morning he called to tell me the mother was gone. The next hour I was with him in the house. The mother was still there. Seated as if she was waiting for someone. She told me, she was sorry for everything that has happened and that she didn’t know she was hurting me. “I’ve been married for forty-two years and I wouldn’t be the one to destroy your young marriage.”
I was embarrassed and happy at the same time. When she finally left I asked him, “What just happened?” He answered, “She suspected she was the reason why you had left the house so I explained everything to her. She accepted to leave but wouldn’t leave until she sees you and say sorry.”
From that day on, we’ve become the best of friends. She’s more of a mother to me than even my own mom. She still comes around and overstays for two to three days but that’s alright. She’s my in-law. One and only sweet in-law.
—Lois, Ghana
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