Mum Ruined Everything Again

Margaret stood by the stove, stirring a pot of beef stew, when the phone rang. She didn’t even pick it up—she already knew who was calling. Her mother always phoned at the worst moment, as if she could sense when her daughter was busy or exhausted.

“Hello, Maggie!” came the familiar voice when the answering machine finally clicked on. “Why aren’t you answering? I was worried sick! Listen, Dorothy from next door just told me—”

Margaret turned off the gas and sighed. Tomorrow was her son’s wedding, and yet again, her mother had concocted some fresh drama. After thirty years married to her late husband, Dorothy had never learned to hold her tongue—and since his passing, she’d only grown bolder.

“Mum, what is it?” Margaret finally answered, forcing calm into her voice.

“Margaret, you won’t believe this, but that fiancée of yours—what’s her name again, Lizzie—”

“Lydia, Mum. Her name is Lydia.”

“Does it matter? Well, turns out she’s been married before! She’s got a child from her first husband! Dorothy saw her with some little boy at the supermarket buying sweets, and she called him her ‘darling’!”

For a moment, the ground seemed to tilt beneath Margaret’s feet. Not because the news shocked her—she’d known about Liam, Lydia’s son, for months. But she dreaded the storm this would unleash.

“Mum, I know about Liam. Lydia’s twenty-eight—she’s allowed a past.”

“How could you know and not tell me?” Her mother’s voice climbed to a screech. “What if Daniel doesn’t know? How could you let him walk into this blind? I’m calling him right now!”

“Mum, don’t you dare!” Margaret snapped. “Daniel knows. They’ve been living together for half a year—of course he knows about the boy.”

“Living together?” Dorothy gasped. “Margaret! How could you allow this? What kind of example are you setting? What will people say?”

Margaret closed her eyes. Here we go again. Her mother had a gift for souring every family milestone with her “revelations” and lectures. When Daniel got into university, she’d told everyone he’d only been accepted through connections, despite his straight A’s. When he graduated with honours, she’d moaned to the neighbours that he cared more about books than family.

“Mum, can we not do this today? The wedding’s tomorrow, and I have guests coming—”

“That’s exactly why!” Dorothy barrelled on. “A wedding! And you’re keeping secrets like some wartime spy! Margaret, I’ll be humiliated in front of everyone! What do I say when they find out the truth?”

“The truth about what? That Lydia has a son? She’s not hiding him.”

“Then why wasn’t he at the hen party?”

“Because hen parties are for adults, and Liam’s five. He was at his grandmother’s.”

Margaret remembered that evening—she’d organised it herself, invited Lydia’s friends, laid out a spread. Her mother had criticised every dish, interrogated the guests about their love lives, and nearly started a row with Lydia’s mum over the floral arrangements.

“Margaret, what if that boy ruins the ceremony? Children are unpredictable! What if he starts crying during the vows? Or—God forbid—calls Daniel ‘Daddy’ in front of everyone?”

“Mum, Liam’s well-behaved. And yes, he’ll be at the wedding. That’s final.”

“At the wedding?” her mother shrieked. “Margaret, have you lost your mind? People will gossip! They’ll count the years between the wedding and the child’s birth! Do you want our family to be a laughingstock?”

Margaret stepped away from the stove and sat at the table. She was exhausted. Exhausted by her mother’s disapproval, her fears, the way she’d traded silence for relentless opinions after Dad died.

“Mum, listen to me. Tomorrow, my son is marrying the woman he loves. She has a child from a previous relationship. Daniel loves that boy as his own. This is normal. Modern. If you can’t accept that—”

“What? You’re banning me? Your own mother?”

“I’m asking you to behave. Don’t ruin their day.”

“How dare you!” Dorothy’s voice quivered with outrage. “I’ve sacrificed everything for this family! Nursed your father when he was ill, raised you on my own, looked after Daniel while you worked! And now I’m just… what? An embarrassment?”

Margaret remembered the “help” after Daniel’s birth—every nappy change scrutinised, every feeding method corrected. Her late husband had joked they had two mothers-in-law: his mum and Dorothy.

“You’re not an embarrassment. But times change. What was scandalous thirty years ago isn’t now.”

“Nothing’s changed!” Dorothy hissed. “Decency is decency! You’ve let your son live in sin, and now you’re welcoming some stranger’s child into our family!”

“Liam isn’t a stranger. He’s my grandson now.”

“Grandson?” Dorothy sounded as if Margaret had announced she was adopting a Martian. “He’s got his own grandparents! Are you trying to replace them?”

“A child can never have too many people who love him.”

“Margaret, you’ve lost the plot!” Her mother’s composure shattered. “I’ll tell everyone the truth tomorrow! Let them see what’s become of us!”

Ice flooded Margaret’s veins. She could picture it—her mother, whispering to guests, dropping bombshells like she had at her niece’s wedding (“Did you know the groom’s a labourer, not a manager?”), at the neighbour’s birthday (“She dyes her hair, you know”), even at Daniel’s dissertation defence (“Was my grandson cheating?”).

“If you say one word against Lydia or Liam,” Margaret murmured, deadly quiet, “I won’t speak to you again.”

“Threatening your own mother?” Dorothy’s voice turned syrupy. “Ah. So that girl’s already turned you against me. I should’ve known. She’s terrified I’ll expose her.”

“Expose what? That she’s divorced? A mother? There’s no shame in that.”

“What if there’s more? Debts? Or worse—”

“Mum, enough.” Margaret paced the kitchen. “You don’t know Lydia. She’s kind, hardworking, and Daniel adores her. Liam’s a bright, polite boy.”

“How would you know? You barely see them!”

That was a lie. Lydia often visited for wedding advice, and Liam already called her “Granny Maggie.” But sharing that would only give Dorothy ammunition.

“I’m exhausted, Mum. The house will be full tomorrow—I need to prepare.”

“Of course you’re exhausted! Exhausted by your own mother! But that—that Lydia, she never wears you out, does she?”

“Her name is Lydia. And no, she doesn’t, because she doesn’t criticise my every move.”

“Ah, so it’s me who’s the problem now!” Dorothy let out a theatrical sob. “Fine! I won’t come tomorrow! Enjoy your little celebration with your new ‘family’!”

“Mum, don’t be ridiculous. Come, behave, and we’ll have a lovely day.”

“And if I can’t stay quiet? If someone asks about… her?”

“Say she’s wonderful, and you’re happy for Daniel.”

“You’re asking me to lie?”

“I’m asking you to get to know her before judging.”

After Dorothy hung up, Margaret sat motionless. The stew cooled as she thought of tomorrow—Daniel beaming, Lydia glowing, little Liam proudly telling everyone he was getting a new dad. And her mother, poised to wreck it all.

The phone rang again. Margaret flinched—had Dorothy changed her mind? But the screen showed Daniel’s name.

“Mum! How’s it going? Nervous?”

“A bit,” she admitted. “You?”

“Brilliant! Lydia looked stunning at the final fitting. Mum… is Gran coming tomorrow?”

Margaret hesitated. How to explain that his grandmother thought he was making a mistake?

“Of course.”

“Perfect! She barely knows Liam—this’ll be their chance. He’s a cracking little lad, Mum! We played football yesterday—he’s got a decent kick already.”

“Daniel… you’re really alright with Lydia having a child?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He sounded baffled. “Mum, I’m thirty. Women my age have pasts. And honestly? I get an instant family. Liam’s accepted me—that’s what matters.”

“What if people talk?”

“What people?” Wariness crept into his voice. “Has Gran said something?”

Margaret backtracked. He didn’t need this on his wedding eve.

“Just overthinking. Hostess nerves.”

“Mum, it’ll be perfect. I’ll have a wife I adore and a son I already love. What more could I want?”

After hangingThe next morning, as sunlight spilled into the kitchen, Margaret took a deep breath—today would be beautiful, no matter what her mother did, because love, in all its messy forms, was worth celebrating.