— Nos, parasite, when are you finally going to start working? — Tamara Ivanovna’s voice was so loud that the living room fell silent.
I froze with the salad bowl in my hands. Twelve pairs of eyes were fixed on me. My husband turned pale. His sister, Lena, gripped her wine glass tightly.
I set the salad down on the table and slowly exhaled. Very slowly.
It had all started three months ago, when I went on maternity leave with my second child. My first son, Artyom, was only three years old.
I had been carrying the second one for eight months already. The doctors strictly forbade exertion — the pregnancy had to be maintained with medication.
Tamara Ivanovna immediately began her own little game. She called Maksim every day:
— Maksimka, think about it — he’s sitting at home while you work alone! That’s not fair!
Maksim tried to explain that I was pregnant. That we had a small child. That my salary went to the mortgage, and now we had to tighten our belts.
But his mother didn’t want to hear it. To her, I had become a parasite, clinging to her poor son.
Then things got worse. She began showing up unannounced.
— I’m free, I want to see the grandchild! — she would excuse herself when I tried to politely hint that it would be better to give notice of her visits.
One afternoon, I had fallen asleep with Artyom — he was sick and hadn’t slept all night. I woke to the sound of the door lock. Tamara Ivanovna had entered with her own keys (which she had kept “for emergencies”) and threw a fit:
— Look at this! It’s noon and she’s sleeping! She didn’t feed the sick child!
I was in shock. Artyom cried, frightened by his grandmother’s shouting. My stomach ached from stress.
In the evening, Maksim quietly took the keys from his mother. Tamara Ivanovna was offended for a month.
But for my birthday, she seemed to make amends. She offered:
— Leave it to me, I’ll organize the party! I’ll bring the family together, set the table. You’re pregnant, you shouldn’t overexert yourself.
Maksim was happy — he thought his mother was finally willing to compromise. I agreed, though my inner voice warned me.
And now, here I was, celebrating my thirtieth birthday.
Guests started arriving at three o’clock. Maksim’s parents, his sister with her husband, my aunt Vera, our mutual friends — Seryozha and Olga. Twelve people in total.
Tamara Ivanovna had indeed gone all out with the food. The table was covered with salads, roasted chicken, pies. I was even touched — maybe she really was trying to mend our relationship?
The first hour went perfectly. Guests congratulated me, gave gifts. Artyom ran around among the adults, happy to get attention.
Then the toasts began. At first harmless — to the birthday girl, to health, to family.
Then Tamara Ivanovna stood up.
— I would also like to say something — she said, raising her glass. — About my daughter-in-law. So that she finally understands: family is not just about children. It’s also a responsibility to your husband.
I became cautious. Maksim wanted to stand up, but his father placed a hand on his shoulder — signaling not to interrupt his mother.
— You know — she continued, her voice growing louder — in my day, I raised three children while working my whole life! Two jobs! And what does she do? One child — and that’s it, on leave. Second child — again on leave. When will she work?
— Tamara Ivanovna — I tried to interrupt, but she gestured for me to stay silent.
— Don’t interrupt! I’m not done yet! Maksim works from morning till night. Overtime, weekends. Why? So someone can lie on the couch?
— Mom, enough already! — Maksim finally stood. — Kata is pregnant, what are you doing?
— I know she’s pregnant! — she waved dismissively. — Pregnant women work too! My neighbor, Zina, worked in accounting until her delivery!
Then Lena, Maksim’s sister, spoke up:
— Mom, that’s enough. Today is a celebration.
— What celebration?! — Tamara Ivanovna raised her voice. — A person turns thirty! It’s time to stand on your own feet, not suckle off your husband like a cow!
I slowly got up from the table. My belly made movement difficult, but I tried to stand straight. The guests were silent, unsure where to look.
— Repeat what you just said, please! — my voice was surprisingly calm.
— I told the truth! — Tamara Ivanovna placed her hands on her hips. — You’re a parasite! You live off my son, had children to tie him to you even more, and…
From there, I didn’t hear anything else. I went to the coat rack, took her coat, and handed it to her.
— Please leave my home — I said quietly but firmly.
— What?! — Tamara Ivanovna’s eyes widened.
— Maksim! — she shouted. — Do you hear what she’s saying?! Your mother, widely known!
Maksim paled. I saw him struggle between his mother and me.
— Mom — he whispered finally — come with me, please.
— How come? Are you on her side?!
— I am on the side of my wife — Maksim replied. — And I ask you to leave our house.
Tamara Ivanovna opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. Then she grabbed her coat and threw it at my face:
— You’ll regret this, both of you! I am a mother! Not some random woman!
— Enough! — Maksim’s father stood up and placed his hand on his wife’s arm. — Tamara, let’s go. You’ve crossed the line.
— What?! You too?!
— Me too — he nodded, giving me an apologetic look. — I’m sorry, Kata. I didn’t expect her to say such things.
They left. The guests also left one by one — who feels like sitting at a table after so much scandal?
Half an hour later, it was just Maksim and me. Artyom was asleep in the nursery, exhausted from the events.
— I’m sorry — my husband said, hugging me. — I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner. I should have stopped her immediately.
I stayed silent, resting my face against his shoulder. I would have cried, but the tears wouldn’t come.
— Do you know what hurts the most? — I whispered. — She thinks I do nothing. But every day I wake up at six, feed, wash, clean. Artyom never leaves me alone. I cook, bathe, put him to bed every day. The same routine.
— I know — Maksim stroked my back. — I see everything. And I appreciate it. We couldn’t have managed without you.
— And what does your mother think of me…
— It doesn’t matter what she thinks — he interrupted. — What matters is what I think. And I think you are the best wife and mother. If she doesn’t want to recognize that — that’s her problem.
Two weeks passed. Tamara Ivanovna didn’t call. I gave birth to a healthy baby girl — Dasha. Maksim was in seventh heaven with happiness.
Everyone came to the hospital — except the mother-in-law. The father-in-law came with a huge bouquet, awkwardly handing over an envelope:
— This is from us — he said — and… she asked me to give it to you. She said she’s thinking about her words.
I nodded. The anger was gone — only fatigue and the desire to be left alone remained.
A month later, she finally appeared. She came with an expensive, beautiful stroller for Dasha.
— Can I come in? — she asked at the door.
I silently stepped aside.
Tamara Ivanovna went into the kitchen and looked around. She saw Artyom playing with his toy cars. She sat opposite me.
— I was wrong — she began. — Completely. I spoke to the priest at the church, he explained a lot. About how motherhood is work. The hardest work.
I listened, rocking Dasha.
— I just worked my whole life — she continued. — And I thought that was the only value. What you do at home… I underestimated it.
— And now? — I asked.
— Now I apologize. And I want to help. Really. Come when needed. Take care of the children if you want to rest.
I looked at this elderly woman who had called me a parasite a month ago. And suddenly I realized — she was sincere. For the first time all along.
— Alright — I nodded. — But one condition.
— Which condition?
— No more judging my housekeeping or child-rearing. My home — my rules.
Tamara Ivanovna was silent. Then she extended her hand:
— Agreed.
A year passed. My mother-in-law kept her word — she helped but did not criticize. Our relationship gradually settled. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.
And I learned the most important thing: sometimes you have to protect your own boundaries. Even if it’s painful. Even if it’s your own celebration, and you have to ask the guests to leave.
Because self-respect is worth more than any feast.
