Claudia is a carefree mother who wants her son to live freely and enjoy his life. But her mother-in-law is a strict and orthodox woman who wants the final say. When Claudia leaves her mother-in-law with Jackson, her son, she is horrified at what she sees on her return.
I never imagined that the woman who raised my husband could be capable of such cruelty.
Yet, there she stood, Judith, my mother-in-law, with a smirk.
My relationship with my mother-in-law had always been a bit strained. She was a woman of staunch conservatism, believing firmly in traditional gender roles and expecting absolute obedience from her family.
Once, my husband, Harvey, told me that his mother had thrown out his sister’s dolls because she had found him playing with them.
“I must have been around a year or so,” he said. “But that’s how strict she’s always been. It’s quite ridiculous if I’m being honest.”
Unlike her family, I would not bow down to anyone’s whims, especially regarding my beliefs and family.
Over the years, the clashes between Judith and I were frequent and bitter, but we had always managed to remain civil.
But when my son, Jackson, was born, I put my foot down with Harvey.
“She can be as present as she wants to be,” I said. “But she will not tell me how to raise our son.”
Harvey agreed, and we continued to parent our child in the manner we saw fit — away from any outdated beliefs on “traditional” masculinity.
Now, Judith couldn’t stand the fact that I dared to challenge the views of the matriarch, but for Harvey and Jackson’s sake, she tried. Although she never missed the option to voice her disapproval of me.
And I was okay with it. I was made of tougher stuff.
But nothing could have prepared me for what she did on my son’s second birthday.
Harvey and I decided that when we had children, we could always have a birthday party for them — it was a day to celebrate them.
So, we held a party at home for Jackson’s second birthday, inviting our families.
Judith loved my son, but she absolutely hated his hair.
“Long hair is for girls, Claudia,” she said a few weeks before the birthday.
“You need to cut it. Jackson isn’t the child of celebrities. They make strange decisions for their children.”
“I will do no such thing,” I replied. I loved Jackson’s hair exactly as it was.
My little boy was dressed in a superhero costume, his golden curls bouncing around his face.
Judith walked into our home, holding tightly onto a gift bag.
“It’s for later,” she said. “I’ll bring it out after the cake.”
Jackson’s birthday party began, and we had toddlers taking over the house. When it was time to cut the cake and sing, my son beamed as brightly as the sun.