— Mom called. She’s complaining about life again. She’s really tired of my brother’s family. — Igor said, washing the dishes.
— Well, everyone gets what they deserve, right? — I replied, packing food for my husband to take to work.
— I’m just so tired of hearing about how noisy the kids are, how cramped they all are in the two-room apartment. — Igor started drying the plates.
— I don’t understand why Alexey has endless problems. He should have changed jobs a long time ago, and rented a place instead of cramming in with his mother, wife, and three kids. — I closed the container and put it in the fridge.
Such conversations happened often in our house. Igor and I got married five years ago, and all this time I only heard about how hard it was for my husband’s older brother. The difficulty was that he married a quarrelsome woman, immediately had three kids, was always struggling with work, and had nowhere to live. I couldn’t even guess what they were thinking when they started having kids. But one fine day, Alexey and Maria, with their three children, showed up at my mother-in-law’s doorstep and declared they would now live with her. Irina Semenovna couldn’t kick them out, so she let them stay and later regretted her hasty decision and her kindness a hundred times.
My mother-in-law was over sixty, she wanted peace and quiet, but her grandkids were noisy, like all kids. Of course, the kindergarten helped, but evenings turned into endless games, with Grandma mainly involved. The parents tried to steal a moment for themselves – Masha hid in the bathroom, and Alexey played computer games. Irina Semenovna, just to rest and recharge, would come to us with endless complaints about life. I truly sympathized with her, but both my husband and I understood that my mother-in-law was responsible for what was happening to her.
Moreover, Alexey and his family had been living at Irina Semenovna’s for almost a year, but he had done nothing to move into a rental. He was fine with his tiny salary, his wife stayed home for years with each child. My mother-in-law was really tired of living in a noisy house full of kids, where she no longer had her own space.
It was just when Alexey and Maria had their youngest son that my grandmother passed away. She never complained about her health, even in her late eighties, she managed the garden by herself. She weeded, watered, planted, and dug potatoes, and every autumn, she made so many preserves that there was enough for everyone. When she passed away, I found out that she had left the summer house to me. I was her only and favorite granddaughter, and my parents had no interest in the land.
Mom and dad were still working, and they had no desire to deal with greenhouses, which they often discussed at family gatherings. So, my grandmother decided that we would need it more. Igor was a handyman, and soon we made everything so that we could live in the house even during the winter. The spacious house was clad in siding, everything inside was renovated, and all modern amenities were added. It wasn’t cheap, but Igor and I both worked and earned enough to invest in the country house and land. I joyfully bought various bushes and seedlings, so the garden was full of plants that generously gave us their fruits when the time came.
In the summer, we moved there to live — fresh air, a nearby river, and forest. Plus, it was less than an hour’s drive to the city, so getting to work wasn’t a problem. Sometimes relatives came over for BBQs — not too often, thankfully. They didn’t help much, but Igor and I managed just fine. My mother-in-law considered us wealthy — the country house, the apartment, the car. She often asked for money to help her oldest son. Igor usually gave small amounts, though he wasn’t happy that Alexey refused to change anything.
It became a family pattern — the younger son grew up hardworking, active, and ready to achieve everything in life, while the older one believed that everyone owed him something. It was also complicated by the kids. Alexey thought he deserved even more because he had three boys. Kids were expensive, but the parents should have thought about it before having so many.
This year, we finished building the bathhouse, the gazebo, and the second floor. My dad helped Igor, so it was all done in one season. Dad was also a handyman, and he and Igor always got along. Now our summer house was truly exemplary — it had everything you could want. There was water, warmth, a bathhouse, and a beautiful gazebo where we could drink tea at sunset. A friend gave us chestnut and Manchurian walnut saplings, which we planted near the gazebo. When they grew, their intricate leaves would provide dense shade during hot summer days.
The last time my mother-in-law came, she was so full of praise for the house that Igor and I just smiled. She never had a summer house, but she always dreamed of one, she said. But she wasn’t often invited to visit. Yes, I had a decent relationship with Irina Semenovna, but her spoiling of her older son always irritated me.
In the fall, we planned to build insulated chicken coops and start raising chickens. The plot was large, so we could afford a lot. Many people here raised geese and livestock. Igor and I had discussed it many times — we couldn’t manage a full farm, but small things, like chickens for eggs and meat, would work. My husband had already bought the wood for the chicken coops, was looking online for advice, and talking to neighbors who had experience with poultry.
In almost every yard, someone raised animals, and the summer village started to resemble a proper village. We didn’t dare stay there for the winter — it was still difficult. A house always requires effort. In the winter, we had to shovel snow every day, which wasn’t very convenient when you work five days a week. So, we lived there only until October, then moved back to the city. Though we did consider trying to stay there for the winter just once. Maybe we were just scared. Other people lived there without problems. We wouldn’t rent out the apartment — we didn’t want strangers in our house. We’d pay just the minimum utilities, and in the village, that was very cheap. Heating was less than two thousand a month with a gas boiler, even in the coldest months.
We also planned to have children next year. After all, Igor and I had been married for a long time, and we wanted to continue our family. We had talked about it many times, and even made some savings for the first months. Kids are about responsibility. You can’t just have three kids and expect them to grow up on their own. You need to feed, clothe, and educate them. Alexey had it easy — he just moved in with his elderly mother, along with his wife and three kids. Everything was ready-made for him. But Igor and I thought everything through carefully. Of course, we couldn’t plan everything, but we had to try.
Recently, my mother-in-law had been visiting us more often. Her complaints about life were endless. She lived in cramped conditions, felt resentful, and was tired of her grandkids. Sometimes her son would reply sharply to her, which hurt Irina Semenovna’s feelings. She just wanted peace and quiet.
She promised to visit again tomorrow, to have tea and talk. This time, “talk” from her sounded serious. She probably had something important to say. I made cream fish soup with cod and basil and baked a savory pie with cabbage and minced meat. It always turned out wonderfully soft and fragrant, and Igor and I would eat it all in one day.
As promised, Irina Semenovna arrived in the afternoon. She was rosy-cheeked from the cold autumn wind. She took off her coat and walked into the kitchen. It was Saturday, and both Igor and I were home. Igor helped clean the floors while I made the pie. He didn’t divide household chores into “women’s” and “men’s,” as many men do. He understood that I also had a hard time because I worked too. He always helped and tried to make things easier for me. I knew how lucky I was with Igor, and I always sincerely thanked him for his help around the house.
Irina Semenovna took a big sip of sweet tea with milk, paused dramatically, and said:
— We’re going to give your summer house to my son. He has a family, and it’s more necessary for him. — My mother-in-law declared.
— We have a family too, and the summer house was left to me by my grandmother. — I retorted, recovering from the shock. — Alexey is almost forty. He could have done so much by now and stood on his own feet. But your son prefers to live with you, getting everything ready-made, with his many children and a wife who doesn’t want to work or help you with household chores.
— Vera, don’t be smart, just do as I say! He’s your husband’s brother; you have to respect him!
— For what? Because he doesn’t want to get up from the couch at almost forty and can only make babies? That doesn’t earn my respect, sorry. We worked for three years, running back and forth to improve the summer house and land. This is what I respect — we didn’t burden anyone, we aimed for our goal. We never asked you for anything. And now you’re suggesting giving all of this to your son? No way! He hasn’t painted a single board but wants to get everything for free, as usual! — I was getting angrier.
— Mom, you’re asking the impossible. We need the summer house too. We’re planning to have a baby next year, and we’ll be moving there with the little one. — Igor joined the conversation.
— You’ve been living together for so long, and haven’t even gotten a cat! And Alexey already has three.
— Let him have seven! It’s not our problem, Irina Semenovna. — I said.
— I see what’s going on with you. You won’t even shovel snow in the winter. Live however you like!
My mother-in-law got up from the table, still not finished with her tea, and went to the hallway. She threw on her coat, tied a headscarf, quickly put on her shoes, and left, muttering something to her younger son. Igor came back, not upset at all.
— Wow, the audacity! To give them the summer house! They only came for BBQs, and even then, at our expense. They never offered to help — just “give” and “give” for free, whether it’s vegetables, rest, or anything else. And now they want to live there too. — I said angrily to Igor.
— Yeah, let them be offended now. Angry people just make noise. — My husband responded. — Let’s eat. The whole house smells like fish soup and pie.
I smiled and opened the oven to check if the pie was done. It was perfectly baked. We ate and chatted, dreaming of having a son or a daughter.
My mother-in-law, offended, really disappeared from our radar. She didn’t ask for money to help Alexey and the grandkids, didn’t write, and didn’t call. I found out from a neighbor that her son and family still lived in Irina Semenovna’s apartment. We celebrated the New Year at the summer house — we moved there for a whole week. As it turned out, it wasn’t such a snowy winter, and living at the summer house didn’t turn into endless snow clearing. The winter weekend was wonderful. We grilled fish, walked a lot, decorated the tree that grew by the house, and hung bright outdoor lights. The winter was warm and calm. Snow fell, but it was brief and didn’t cause any trouble.
When we returned home, I found out we were going to be parents. I told Igor at dinner, and he was genuinely happy. We started preparing the nursery, and these tasks inspired and delighted us. I bought a crib with colorful sides, embroidered with funny penguins on white icebergs, and chose bedding for the future baby. We didn’t know yet if it was a boy or a girl, but that didn’t matter — we would love whoever it was because it was our child. My mother-in-law went on complaining to the neighbor, and didn’t change her anger even when we came home from the maternity hospital.
Gena was born right on time — with chubby cheeks, funny little ears, and blue eyes, just like all babies. Now, Igor and I started a new, happy life, which changed a lot with our son. There was plenty of work with him, but Igor helped a lot, and I once again realized that I married the best man in the world. Happiness is in the little things, in simple decisions and everyday tasks.
But it’s impossible if you don’t take responsibility for your own comfort, for yourself, for your family, and for your relationships with others. None of this came out of nowhere for Igor and me — we earned it through hard work, decisions, and the willingness to face the consequences. Alexey, though, continued to live with his mother, piling his wife and three kids onto her. Everything suited him. As for Igor and me, we had our own little world, in which we were building our happiness.
