I am a mother of three strong boys. When I say strong, I mean the type of boys who can wake up and turn a peaceful house into a stadium before breakfast. Some days I look at them and wonder if I gave birth to human beings or small hurricanes. Before my husband stepped in with his wisdom, I used to fight fire with fire. Whenever they misbehaved, I screamed. When they broke something, I shouted their names like a town crier. When they refused to listen, I sprinkled insults on top as garnish. That was how I grew up and that was the only way I knew how to restore order in a noisy house full of boys.

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One day my husband sat me down. He looked at me calmly and said, “These boys are loud and stubborn. They will break things and fight each other. They will do everything boys normally do but we do not need shouting and bullying to raise them. Leave that part to me.” At first I felt insulted. I thought he was accusing me of being a bad mother but when I cooled down and really thought about it, I realized he was trying to help me. That day we made an agreement. I would correct them gently when necessary, teach them values, help them learn emotional control, guide them when their behaviour drifted off course. But when it came to punishment, that was his department.

For the past three years, he has been the minister of punishment in our home. Anytime the boys misbehave and I threaten them, I simply say, “When your dad comes home you will see.” It works like magic. The way they rearrange their behaviour immediately is funny. What surprises me most is how my husband punishes them. He does not raise his voice. He never lifts a hand. He calls it creative punishment. If they scatter their room or fight unnecessarily, he gives them a book to read and asks them to narrate everything to him. If they break something, he gives them a skill-based task that forces them to learn something new.

The only physical punishment he gives them is ten to twenty squats. He says it strengthens their muscles and teaches discipline. Meanwhile these children will cry as if he has asked them to push a car uphill but after a few minutes, they will be running around again shouting, laughing and turning the house upside down. The truth is, his method works. Our boys are still loud but they are thoughtful. They are learning responsibility. They are becoming expressive and disciplined without losing their joy and confidence. I saw the direction and I loved it so I fully supported him.

Everything was going well until my mother entered the story. She visits often. She claims she misses her grandchildren and wants to bring them biscuits, bread and meat pie. My husband likes her visits. He treats her with respect and even jokes around with her.

But when my mother is around, she behaves like the general superintendent of punishment. If the boys do something small, she screams louder than I ever did. She does not just scold them. She insults them. Not any ordinary insult. She brings out all the old school insults that should have been buried with her generation. “Your head like an orphan coconut.” “Your face like a disappointed ancestor.” “You’re foolish like a confused lizard.” And she says them loudly with passion.

My husband hates it. He cannot stand insults that target the children’s sense of self. He has always said there are certain words you do not throw at a child because it stays with them forever. I have warned my mother several times. She always replies, “I cannot watch children misbehave and keep quiet. You cannot tell me how to handle my grandchildren.” I tried explaining that it is not my rule but my husband’s. My mom retorted, “If your dad was the only who corrected your mistakes, would you be here at this time?”

She refused to stop. In fact, she started insulting them even more, especially when my husband was around. Yesterday she went too far. One of the boys dropped water on the floor. Before I could blink, she screamed, “You children have become fools in this house but no one is telling you. I will tell you. Silly children everywhere.”

My husband stood up slowly and walked into our bedroom. He did not shout but I could see the pain and insult written all over his face. I followed him and closed the door gently. He said, “This should be the last time your mother visits this house. Does she know she insulted me through my children? Tell her not to come here again.”

I tried defending her. I told him it was not intentional but he shook his head. “It is enough. Tell her not to come again. I am tired.”

I couldn’t force my mom to leave our house but once she eventually left, my husband tasked me to tell her not to come here again but how do I tell her that without hurting her? That “Mom, don’t come to my house again.“ She would ask why and I would tell her, “Because you insulted the kids so my husband says don’t step here again.”

The truth is, I do not blame my husband. He did everything to tolerate her. He ignored her insults so many times. He respected her. He allowed her to visit anytime. All he asked was that she should stop insulting the children but she refused. She ignored his rules in his own house.

It is my mother I blame. How do you stand in front of a father and call his children fools? How do you tell them their faces resemble disappointed ancestors? Does she think my husband is deaf? How does she expect him to feel?

Now she cannot come here again and I am stuck in the middle. I love my mother and I love my husband. But one of them refused to respect the rules of my home and now I am the one who has to carry the consequences.

I do not know how to resolve it. I am afraid of hurting my mother but I am also afraid of disrespecting my husband. This woman will be the end of me. I am now the rope in a tug of war I did not start.

Is There A Perfect One Out There For Everyone?

All I want is peace. All I want is harmony in my home. All I want is a simple way to tell my mother that her mouth has pushed her out of my house without breaking her heart beyond repair. How do I fix this without being torn apart?

—Efia Chocolate

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