Why Marks mum treated our children the way she did was as plain as the nose on your face first and foremost, she didn’t fancy me much as a daughter-in-law. No matter what I did, I just didnt tick any of her boxes. For one reason or another, she saw my family as rather subpar. Apparently, I was considered a bit common and destitute, since both my parents worked in the local biscuit factory, whilst her late husband was the illustrious artistic director at the Stratford Theatre. But lets be honest, my parents did alright for themselves both worked double shifts, we had a respectable two-bedroom flat, a balcony overlooking a row of rather enthusiastic hydrangeas, and even took the odd trip to Brighton when we fancied some sea air.
Now, the real head-scratcher was why my own parents, who always meant the best for me and had been counting down the days to becoming grandparents, suddenly refused to babysit the twins. At first, both Marks parents and mine pitched in spectacularly.
When the children were still of the gurgling, cuddly variety, they spent plenty of time with Mum. But once they found their legs and started chattering and causing a mild ruckus, Mum put her foot down and flatly refused to have them. By then, both Mark and I were back at work, and neither of us was keen to throw in the towel.
We both felt a bit miffed at our parents sudden reluctance to help out, but I admit, I was more disappointed in my mum. Fine, Marks mother had always been a bit haughty, but my mum? I couldnt get my head round it. She knew I was running myself ragged, juggling work and home, and still decided to leave me in the lurch.
We didnt want to cart the kids off to nursery at the tender age of three, so we decided to splash out and hire a nanny. That lasted all of a fortnight before she made a swift exit. The next one barely managed two weeks and was off faster than you could say, not my circus, not my monkeys.
Of course, every parent thinks their child is an absolute treasure, and that its everyone elses fault if things go pear-shaped. I certainly did. That is, until I had to drop them off at pre-school. Suddenly, every nursery nurse was gently (or not so gently) telling us the boys were, shall we say, a challenge. Naughty, boisterous, and always scrapping with each other rather than playing nicely.
They suggested seeing a child psychologist, which made me finally start paying closer attention. Up until then, Id been so busy with work that I was hardly ever home, so it just hadnt sunk in. Now it was clear why our parents werent queueing up to babysit. Its not that wed spoiled them rotten or never told them off it just somehow slipped under the radar, and now were scrambling to set things right before primary school kicks off.
Perhaps, if the grandmothers notice the boys turning over a new leaf, theyll actually want to have them back round. Stranger things have happened.
