At some time in the past, when bringing cigarettes into Britain entailed a hefty sum, a friend of my father’s got his load through free by saying: “They’re presents for my mother-in-law!” So ingrained was the concept of the wicked mother-in- law that it was laughable.
I daresay there are still some young wives who dread their matriarchs, but judging from the letters I get as agony aunt for Saga, the magazine for the aged, the boot is now on the other foot: it’s lousy daughters-in-law who are the trouble. They don’t make the kids eat up their vegetables, they don’t keep their houses clean and they assume their husband’s mother is always available to cope with the kids even if they have a demanding job themselves. They let the children use their mobiles even at meals, and by and large take the side of the young rather than their deserving parents.
I can say this smugly simply because I’m lucky enough to have a super daughter-in-law myself. She actually is the person I go to automatically when there’s trouble: a psychotherapist who is fun to be with and extremely adroit with her nearly grown-up daughters. It’s because of all the others that I know how lucky I am.
Maybe it’s just part of the whole shift of power, owing to technology, increasingly being in young hands: a bossy old mother-in-law wouldn’t get far as a tyrant these days: she’d be too easy to outwit.
What do you think? Have your say below
