30
While our apartment was being renovated, we decided to stay with my husband’s parents, but soon I regretted it.
Young couples in our time can not fail. They can do everything, and they will overcome everything if they want. It used to be like getting married and hello. An independent family, a new unit of society. Mom and Dad are far away, you need to be as independent as possible. And now the wedding is just a big party and nothing more.Living with my husband's parents.We have a separate budget, and children have not even been thought about yet... and this is not even the most exotic version of marriage in modern realities!
Some do not see such examples as reprehensible. Children are married to one of their parents. What's the big deal? For some people, for example, this is the order of things. They'll be friendlier. Someone, on the contrary, believes that such an approach to the family is an outrage and only gives weakness in relationships. A young couple will not be able to develop normally in such conditions and will forever remain in the status of children. Where it fits. However, such topics often cause controversy, there is nothing new in this.
We live with our husband's parents. I want to share with you my example of family life and talk about how my husband and I moved in with his parents and what happened. I don't think my story is that boring and instructive, but there's something you're sure to learn. Because I remember this experience for a long time.
Three years ago, Yuri and I got married. Both are over twenty-five, grown-up. Before the wedding, of course, we walked together. But to live seriously in one apartment - no. Unfortunately, we did not have to do that. I believe that living before marriage with a man does not mean being with him as a husband. You're nobody to each other anyway. You pretend to be a real marriage. But you can break up at any time, and that's it.
Many people will disagree with me. They will say for sure that if people did not share life before the wedding, then after it they will have problems with it. My point of view is this: a domestic disabled person can be seen from afar with the naked eye. To date, the problem is only to buy yourself all the necessary equipment, there would be money. And about any home issues can safely not worry. We live in the present. In the past, every little thing took a lot of time and effort. Now almost everything is automated.
My words and thoughts were confirmed in practice. Yura was not one of those who could not cook their own food or throw things in the washing machine. Very adult, independent young man. I’m glad he didn’t disappoint me. Because I'm not scared of household chores at all. In fact, we eat the same, so I just need to cook a couple times more. When it's my turn, naturally. Well, load the washing machine, and we wash the dishes for ourselves. Why are modern women complaining?
For all the time that we lived with Yura, we quarreled with him only a few times. And even then, our quarrels could be called with a great stretch. Just resetting the accumulated experiences. Internally, we both knew we could make up at any time. But loud screams and emotions give monotonous family life its share of poignancy. It was the first time we had a scandal at his parents' home. And then I roared into three streams. I'll never forget that day.
We finally bought our own apartment. Like the apartment, the box is quick. But it was our box, although the whole world dropped it on it: our family, my parents, Yura’s parents, the money of the guests from the wedding. And what can we do, we are young, not yet earned. I understand. But during the renovation, I had to live somewhere. Continuing to rent would be expensive, and we did not have friends with a suitable living space. The parents of the husband and their private two-storey house helped. I was hoping it was going to be some sort of very long visitation. But I have to admit, I was a little mistaken.
In general, I communicated with Yurina mom and his father before the wedding. But these were rather meaningless conversations. For the first time, I understood the nature of my husband’s parents in their territory. Dad is a cheerful, cheerful person. Fuck you. In his youth, he invested money, and very successfully. And now I just took from life what I wanted, without thinking about any extra. For this role he had a wife, my husband’s mother. A miniature, short-cut woman with brown eyes and thin, nervous lips. She is a good person, but with a peculiar character. Strict but fair. Almost always.
And this "period" has begun. No one made any demands on me personally. But I felt every second that I was being tested. Everyone ate and began to slowly get up from the table. I understand that tension is in the air. Yeah, we need to pack up the plates and wash the dishes. I don't do that at home unless it's my turn. But there, in the house of my husband’s parents, there is no other way. Same story with cooking. My mother-in-law helps me, but she never offers to go to rest or do her own thing. If I'm in their house, I have to work.
Very soon we moved from “practice” to “theory.” Despite the fact that we were given a room upstairs while my husband was at work, my mother-in-law often came to me just to chat. I actually felt like an insect under a microscope. I was interested in literally everything. Who I am, what my job is, how come I don't have to go to the office because of it. Yeah, I work from home, so what? Then there were neutral questions about literature and art, whether I could play or draw. In short, only my mother-in-law hasn't looked in my mouth yet.
There were no complaints to his father-in-law, I was interested in him except to listen to some story or his jokes on his own son. Good, good hamstrings. The father-in-law never joked about his wife, he was always afraid of her. Interesting guy, funny. My thoughts were also clouded by the fact that my husband was becoming more and more like his mother. He also strangely squeezed his lips, squinted and raised his eyebrow. In fact, he may have done it before. But there, in their house, when I could see the similarity, I was very uncomfortable.
We started fighting, for real. More and more I caught myself thinking that I wanted to go home or even go to a friend or parents. Physically, I wasn’t tired, but I felt far from my plate. My mother-in-law asked me a couple of times why I was so pale. And I still can't tell if it was care on her part or some kind of passive aggression.
How did I resolve this situation? That's the thing, it doesn't. I have never been able to express my thoughts to my mother-in-law, which may be why I am writing this to you now. My marriage was saved by chance. Or rather, handy workers. They had finished the repairs a couple of weeks earlier, and even a distant relative of mine, who was doing the repairs himself, confirmed that the guys did everything at the highest level. So my stay at my husband’s parents’ house ended. Very suddenly, but I'm not sad at all.
We are living with Yura together again and do not know the grief. Everything is fine at home, otherwise I don’t complain either. His facial expressions and microgestures have become familiar and loved again. It is a pity that he disowns how he did not understand my inner state before. It's like he's been replaced or enchanted, I don't even know. I still talk to my parents, but not often on the phone. Anyway, everything's fine now.
How some families live near their parents remains a mystery to me. I wouldn’t have done this a second time, even if I was paid a lot of money. When you depend on someone who is older than you and doesn’t hesitate to be yourself 24 hours a day, that’s too much for me. I don't even know. Do you have that experience, or perhaps someone you know? What are they saying? Am I the only one who is such a coward? Or are there others among us?
Some do not see such examples as reprehensible. Children are married to one of their parents. What's the big deal? For some people, for example, this is the order of things. They'll be friendlier. Someone, on the contrary, believes that such an approach to the family is an outrage and only gives weakness in relationships. A young couple will not be able to develop normally in such conditions and will forever remain in the status of children. Where it fits. However, such topics often cause controversy, there is nothing new in this.
We live with our husband's parents. I want to share with you my example of family life and talk about how my husband and I moved in with his parents and what happened. I don't think my story is that boring and instructive, but there's something you're sure to learn. Because I remember this experience for a long time.
Three years ago, Yuri and I got married. Both are over twenty-five, grown-up. Before the wedding, of course, we walked together. But to live seriously in one apartment - no. Unfortunately, we did not have to do that. I believe that living before marriage with a man does not mean being with him as a husband. You're nobody to each other anyway. You pretend to be a real marriage. But you can break up at any time, and that's it.
Many people will disagree with me. They will say for sure that if people did not share life before the wedding, then after it they will have problems with it. My point of view is this: a domestic disabled person can be seen from afar with the naked eye. To date, the problem is only to buy yourself all the necessary equipment, there would be money. And about any home issues can safely not worry. We live in the present. In the past, every little thing took a lot of time and effort. Now almost everything is automated.
My words and thoughts were confirmed in practice. Yura was not one of those who could not cook their own food or throw things in the washing machine. Very adult, independent young man. I’m glad he didn’t disappoint me. Because I'm not scared of household chores at all. In fact, we eat the same, so I just need to cook a couple times more. When it's my turn, naturally. Well, load the washing machine, and we wash the dishes for ourselves. Why are modern women complaining?
For all the time that we lived with Yura, we quarreled with him only a few times. And even then, our quarrels could be called with a great stretch. Just resetting the accumulated experiences. Internally, we both knew we could make up at any time. But loud screams and emotions give monotonous family life its share of poignancy. It was the first time we had a scandal at his parents' home. And then I roared into three streams. I'll never forget that day.
We finally bought our own apartment. Like the apartment, the box is quick. But it was our box, although the whole world dropped it on it: our family, my parents, Yura’s parents, the money of the guests from the wedding. And what can we do, we are young, not yet earned. I understand. But during the renovation, I had to live somewhere. Continuing to rent would be expensive, and we did not have friends with a suitable living space. The parents of the husband and their private two-storey house helped. I was hoping it was going to be some sort of very long visitation. But I have to admit, I was a little mistaken.
In general, I communicated with Yurina mom and his father before the wedding. But these were rather meaningless conversations. For the first time, I understood the nature of my husband’s parents in their territory. Dad is a cheerful, cheerful person. Fuck you. In his youth, he invested money, and very successfully. And now I just took from life what I wanted, without thinking about any extra. For this role he had a wife, my husband’s mother. A miniature, short-cut woman with brown eyes and thin, nervous lips. She is a good person, but with a peculiar character. Strict but fair. Almost always.
And this "period" has begun. No one made any demands on me personally. But I felt every second that I was being tested. Everyone ate and began to slowly get up from the table. I understand that tension is in the air. Yeah, we need to pack up the plates and wash the dishes. I don't do that at home unless it's my turn. But there, in the house of my husband’s parents, there is no other way. Same story with cooking. My mother-in-law helps me, but she never offers to go to rest or do her own thing. If I'm in their house, I have to work.
Very soon we moved from “practice” to “theory.” Despite the fact that we were given a room upstairs while my husband was at work, my mother-in-law often came to me just to chat. I actually felt like an insect under a microscope. I was interested in literally everything. Who I am, what my job is, how come I don't have to go to the office because of it. Yeah, I work from home, so what? Then there were neutral questions about literature and art, whether I could play or draw. In short, only my mother-in-law hasn't looked in my mouth yet.
There were no complaints to his father-in-law, I was interested in him except to listen to some story or his jokes on his own son. Good, good hamstrings. The father-in-law never joked about his wife, he was always afraid of her. Interesting guy, funny. My thoughts were also clouded by the fact that my husband was becoming more and more like his mother. He also strangely squeezed his lips, squinted and raised his eyebrow. In fact, he may have done it before. But there, in their house, when I could see the similarity, I was very uncomfortable.
We started fighting, for real. More and more I caught myself thinking that I wanted to go home or even go to a friend or parents. Physically, I wasn’t tired, but I felt far from my plate. My mother-in-law asked me a couple of times why I was so pale. And I still can't tell if it was care on her part or some kind of passive aggression.
How did I resolve this situation? That's the thing, it doesn't. I have never been able to express my thoughts to my mother-in-law, which may be why I am writing this to you now. My marriage was saved by chance. Or rather, handy workers. They had finished the repairs a couple of weeks earlier, and even a distant relative of mine, who was doing the repairs himself, confirmed that the guys did everything at the highest level. So my stay at my husband’s parents’ house ended. Very suddenly, but I'm not sad at all.
We are living with Yura together again and do not know the grief. Everything is fine at home, otherwise I don’t complain either. His facial expressions and microgestures have become familiar and loved again. It is a pity that he disowns how he did not understand my inner state before. It's like he's been replaced or enchanted, I don't even know. I still talk to my parents, but not often on the phone. Anyway, everything's fine now.
How some families live near their parents remains a mystery to me. I wouldn’t have done this a second time, even if I was paid a lot of money. When you depend on someone who is older than you and doesn’t hesitate to be yourself 24 hours a day, that’s too much for me. I don't even know. Do you have that experience, or perhaps someone you know? What are they saying? Am I the only one who is such a coward? Or are there others among us?
Why some trees should not be planted near the house and what the consequences may be
Thinking about whether it is really important for men to give gifts to women for no reason