From the moment my son, Ethan, was born, my mother-in-law, Margaret, became a constant presence in our lives — sometimes comforting, but often overwhelming.
«You’re young — you don’t know what you’re doing yet,” she’d say with that condescending smile that never quite reached her eyes. “Leave it to someone who’s done this before.”
When it was time for me to return to work, I hesitantly agreed to let her care for Ethan during the day. She loved him, no doubt — but her love came with control. She insisted on how he should be fed, dressed, even held.
