My mom’s birthday was coming up, and I wanted to make it special. She’s always loved seafood, so when she picked a restaurant 40 minutes away for her celebration, I wasn’t surprised. However, there was one problem—my wife, who is heavily pregnant, would struggle with the long car ride and couldn’t eat most of the menu due to her shellfish allergy.
I thought we could find a middle ground, so I suggested choosing a different restaurant. “Mom, what about a place with more variety? That way, everyone can enjoy the evening,” I said.
Her response shocked me. “Why should I have to change my plans because of her? She’s a grown woman. She can stay home for one night.”
I blinked, taken aback by her tone. “Mom, leaving her at home would make her feel excluded. This is supposed to be a family celebration.”
She crossed her arms and scoffed. “Family? This is my birthday. It’s about me, not your wife and her… limitations. Do you really expect me to give up the one thing I enjoy just because she can’t handle it?”
I took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “Mom, I’m just asking for a little compromise. Pregnancy isn’t forever. We can plan a seafood dinner another time. Tonight, let’s pick something we can all enjoy.”
Her voice rose, frustration dripping from every word. “Unbelievable! My birthday is being hijacked because your wife can’t be left alone for a few hours. Is this what marriage is? You catering to her every whim?”
That’s when I lost my patience. “MOM,” I said firmly, “my wife is carrying your grandchild. She’s uncomfortable, exhausted, and still willing to come celebrate with you because she respects you. But if you can’t show her the same respect, then I’ll celebrate your birthday with you another time. My priority is to make sure my wife feels supported, not abandoned.”
Her mouth fell open, and for a moment, she was silent. Then she muttered, “Fine. Let’s go somewhere else.”
We ended up going to a nice Italian restaurant that was only 15 minutes away, and the evening went smoothly—mostly. Mom was a bit cold toward my wife at first but eventually softened up when the conversation turned to the baby.
Later, my wife squeezed my hand under the table and whispered, “Thank you for standing up for me.”
After dinner, my mom pulled me aside. “I’m sorry for making such a fuss,” she said reluctantly. “I didn’t think about how she must be feeling. You’re a good husband.”
I nodded, grateful for the olive branch. “Thanks, Mom. I just want everyone to feel valued. That includes you *and* her.”
Looking back, I don’t regret what I said. Marriage is about partnership, and being a good son doesn’t mean sacrificing the well-being of my wife. I hope my mom learned a little something that night too—that family is about compromise and care for each other, not just one person’s desires.
