Mom called again. She’s complaining about her life again. I’m so tired of my brother’s family,” said Igor as he did the dishes.
“Well, everyone gets what they deserve, right?” I replied as I packed food for my husband’s lunch.
“I’m just tired of listening to the children making noise, how cramped they all are in their two-bedroom apartment,” Igor continued as he dried the plates.
“I really don’t understand what the endless problems are with Alexei. He should have changed jobs long ago and moved into a rental, rather than squeezing in with his mother and his wife and three kids,” I finished packing the container and put it in the refrigerator.
Such conversations were common in our house. Igor and I had been married for five years, and all this time, I had only heard about how hard life was for my husband’s older brother. The difficulty was that he had married a quarrelsome woman, hastily had three children, constantly struggled with jobs, and had nowhere to live. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what they were thinking when they had kids. But one fine day, Alexei, Maria, and their three offspring showed up at my mother-in-law’s doorstep and announced that they would now live with her. Irina Semenovna couldn’t bring herself to kick out her son and grandchildren, let her in, and regretted her impulsive decision and her kindness a hundred times over.
My mother-in-law was over sixty and wanted peace and quiet, but the boys, her grandsons, were restless and noisy like all children. Of course, daycare helped, but evenings turned into endless games, mainly involving the grandmother. The parents tried to snatch a moment of personal time – Masha hid in the bathroom, Lesha sat down to play video games. Irina Semenovna, to get some rest and recharge, came to us with endless complaints about life. We both really felt sorry for her, but both my husband and I understood that my mother-in-law was to blame for what was happening to her, herself.
Moreover, Lesha and his family had been living at Irina Semenovna’s for almost a year but did nothing to move into a rental. He was satisfied with his meager salary, his wife stayed home with each child for four or more years. My mother-in-law was indeed very tired from the apartment filled with noisy children, where she no longer had her own corner.
Just when Alexei and Maria had their youngest son, my grandmother passed away. She never complained about her health and even in her eighties managed her dacha independently. She weeded and watered numerous beds, planted and dug up potatoes, and made so many preserves each autumn that there was enough for everyone. When she passed, it turned out that she had left the dacha to me. I was her only and beloved granddaughter, and my parents didn’t need their own land.
My parents were still working and had no desire to fuss with greenhouses, as they often mentioned at family gatherings. So, my grandmother decided that my husband and I would need it more. Igor was handy in all respects, and soon we had arranged everything so that you could even live there in winter. We clad the spacious house with siding, made it comfortable inside, and installed all conveniences. It was not cheap, but both Igor and I worked and earned enough to invest in the country house and plot. I happily bought various bushes and seedlings, so in the summer the garden was full of plants that generously rewarded us when the time came.
In the summer, we moved there to live – fresh air, a river, and a forest nearby. And it was less than an hour’s drive to the city, no problem getting to work. Sometimes relatives came for barbecues – not too often, fortunately. They didn’t help much, but Igor and I managed just fine. My mother-in-law considered us well-off – a dacha, an apartment, and a car. She often asked for money to help her older son. Igor usually gave small amounts, although he was unhappy that Lesha did not want to change anything.
That’s how it was in the family, the younger son grew up hardworking, active, ready to achieve everything in life, while the older one thought everyone owed him. It was further complicated by children. Alexei believed that now everyone owed him triple, since he had three boys. Children indeed cost a lot nowadays, but parents should have known and thought about it when they had kids.
This year, we finished building a sauna, a gazebo, and a second floor. My father helped my husband, so we did everything in one season. Dad was also a master of all trades, and he always got along with my husband. Now our dacha was truly exemplary – everything you could want was there. And water, and warmth, and you could go to the sauna, and drink tea at sunset in a beautiful gazebo. A friend gave us chestnut and Manchurian walnut trees, which we planted near the gazebo. When they grow up, they will provide dense shade on hot summer days.
My mother-in-law, when she came last time, was so enthusiastically impressed with what we had done that my husband and I just smiled. She didn’t have a dacha, although she always dreamed of one, by her words. But we didn’t invite her too often. Yes, I had a good relationship with Irina Semenovna, but her guardianship of her older son always irritated me.
Now in the fall, we wanted to make insulated chicken coops and raise chickens. The plot was large, so we could afford a lot. Many here also kept geese and larger animals. Igor and I discussed many times that we wouldn’t manage a full farm. But a small one, like chickens, to have our own eggs and meat – definitely. My husband had already bought wood for the coops, looked up how and what to do on the Internet, and talked to neighbors who already had experience with poultry.
Almost every yard here had at least someone for the summer, and the cottage village more and more resembled a proper rural one. We didn’t dare to winter there – it was still hard. Our own house constantly required work and effort. Clear the snow every day in winter, which was not very convenient when you work five days a week. Therefore, we only lived there until October, then moved back to the city. Although we planned to try to stay there at least once in the winter. Maybe we were afraid for nothing. Other people lived there and did not suffer. We would not have rented out the apartment – we didn’t want strangers in our home. We would have paid a minimum of utility bills. In the village, it was very cheap. Heating cost less than two thousand a month with a gas boiler even in the coldest months.
And we planned to have our own children next year. After all, Igor and I had been married for a long time, and we wanted a continuation. We talked about this many times, even made some savings for the first time. Children are about responsibility. You can’t just have three of them and expect them to grow up like burdock by the fence. You need to feed, clothe, and educate them. For Lesha, it was all simple – he collapsed at his elderly mother’s with a horde, and it seemed like that’s how it should be. But Igor and I calculated and planned everything. Of course, you can’t foresee everything. But you need to strive for it.
Lately, my mother-in-law has been coming to us quite often. Her complaints about life were endless. She lived both in tightness and in offense. She didn’t like her lazy daughter-in-law, was tired from the grandchildren, her son could sometimes respond very sharply, which offended Irina Semenovna. She wanted peace and quiet.
She promised to come again tomorrow, to have tea and talk. This time “talk” sounded somewhat significant from her mouth. Apparently, something important indeed. I cooked fish soup with cream and cod for her visit, baked a stuffed pie with cabbage and minced meat. It always turned out exceptionally tender and fragrant, and my husband and I ate it right away in a day.
As promised, Irina Semenovna arrived after noon. Blushing from the cold autumn wind, she took off her coat and went into the kitchen. Today was Saturday, both my husband and I were home. Igor helped clean the floors while I made the pie. He never divided housework into women’s and men’s, as many men liked to do. He understood that I also had a hard time because I worked. He always helped, tried to make my life easier. I understood how lucky I was with Igor, and I always sincerely thanked him for his help around the house and his support.
Irina Semenovna took a big sip of sweet tea with milk, held a theatrical pause, and said:
“We’ll give your dacha to my son, he has a family, he needs it more,” declared my mother-in-law.
“We also have a family, and the dacha was inherited from my grandmother,” I objected, recovering from the initial shock. “Lesha is already approaching forty. He could have done a lot by now and stood on his own two feet. But your son prefers to live with you, all ready with numerous children and a wife who also does not want to work or help you around the house.”
“Don’t be smart, Vera, just do as I said! He’s your husband’s own brother, you must respect him?”
“Respect him for what? For the fact that he doesn’t want to get off the couch by forty and is only capable of making children? That doesn’t earn my respect, forgive me. We worked for three years with my husband, hustled to arrange the house and the plot. That’s what I respect – we didn’t bother anyone, we went towards our goal. We never asked you for anything. And now you’re suggesting giving all this to your son? No way! He hasn’t painted a single board there, but wants everything as always, for free!” I was getting angrier.
“Mom, you’re suggesting something impossible. We need this dacha ourselves. We’re planning a child for next year, we’ll be going there with the little one,” Igor joined the conversation.
“You’ve been living for so many years, and you haven’t even gotten a cat! And Lesha already has three.”
“Even if there are seven on the benches! It’s not our concern, Irina Semenovna,” I said.
“I see everything with you. You can’t even beg snow in winter. Live as you know how!”
My mother-in-law got up from the table, didn’t even finish her tea, and walked to the corridor. Throwing on her coat, tying a scarf around her head, she quickly put on her shoes and left, whispering something to her younger son. Igor returned, not at all upset.
“No, what impudence! To give them the dacha! They only came there for barbecues, and even that at our expense. Never offered to help – just ‘give’ and ‘give’ for free, both vegetables and rest, and everything. And now even let them live there,” I told Igor indignantly.
“Don’t even say it, let her be offended now. They carry water on the angry ones,” my husband responded. “Let’s eat, shall we? The whole house smells of soup and pie.”
I smiled, opened the oven, and checked if my stuffed pie was ready with a matchstick. It was perfectly baked. We ate and chatted, dreaming of a son or a daughter.
My mother-in-law, offended, indeed disappeared from the radar. She didn’t ask for money to help Alexei and the grandchildren, didn’t write or call. From a neighbor, I knew that her son and his family still lived in Irina Semenovna’s apartment. We celebrated New Year at the dacha – moved there for a whole week. As it turned out, it wasn’t such a snowy winter this year, and the dacha life didn’t turn into endless clearing of paths. The winter weekend was a success. We grilled fish, walked a lot, decorated a tree that grew right by the house, hung bright outdoor garlands. The winter was warm, windless. If it snowed, it was brief, and didn’t create any particular troubles.
Returning home, I learned that we would soon become parents. I told my husband over dinner, and Igor was genuinely happy. We started setting up the nursery, and these chores inspired and delighted us. I bought a crib with colorful sides, embroidered with funny penguins on white ice floes, chose bedding for our future baby. We still didn’t know who we were expecting, but it didn’t matter – daughter or son. We would love anyone, because it was our child. My mother-in-law now went to complain to the neighbor, and didn’t switch from anger to mercy, even when we returned from the maternity hospital with Genka.
Genka was born right on time – with chubby cheeks, funny protruding ears, and blue eyes, like all babies. Now a new happy life began for us with my husband, which our son greatly changed. There was plenty of trouble with him, but Igor helped a lot, and I once again assured myself that I had married the best man in the world. Happiness is in the little things, in simple decisions and simple deeds.
But it’s impossible if you don’t take responsibility for your comfort, for yourself, for your family, and for your relationships with people around you. All this didn’t appear with us, Igor and me, out of nowhere – we earned it all through hard work, decisions, and readiness to take responsibility for the consequences. Lesha continued to live with his mother, dumping on her and his wife and three children. Everything suited him. But it didn’t concern us, Igor and me; we had our own little world, in which we built and built our happiness.