Dear Diary,
Today I found myself once more caught in the familiar tugofwar between my motherinlaw, Victoria Olegovna, and my own daughters. It began with a thinskinned complaint from her about Lena, our younger girl, who, in her eyes, is daring to stay in our small town instead of marching off to Moscow for a university education. Victorias voice rose, Lena, how can you think of staying here? All the girls from our region dream of a degree from the capital, and you?
I could feel the faint smile at my throat. Lena is stubborn; you cant argue with her, and Im not even sure its worth trying. I replied calmly, What would I say? That youre forcing her to abandon her own wishes just to collect a shiny diploma for you? Thats her life, not yours, and certainly not mine to decide where she studies or whether she studies at all.
Victoria, desperate to make a point, asked, So you think she shouldnt have a degree? I tried to keep my tone gentle, Everyone has their own idea of what it means to make it in life. Some count children, some count money, others count something else entirely. Theres no single definition of happiness.
She pressed, What do you mean if at all? Can we even talk about it in two words? I thought of the endless arguments over what success looks like. Some measure success by the number of offspring, some by wealth, some by well, nothing material at all. As long as no one tries to impose their own picture of the world on others, theres no harm.
But when a stubborn obsession with a prestigious university starts dictating the lives of grandchildren, it becomes a different story. Victoria has always been a zealot for higher education, especially from a recognized institution, not some flybynight college. With me, she never clashed, because I earned my degree from Moscow State University on a scholarship before I turned twentyfive. No complaints, no demandsjust a fact she noted with a smile at first, until recent events forced her hand.
Our daughters grew up. The older, Alexandra, would roll her eyes at her grandmothers lecture, dismissing it as teenage drama. The real storm began when Sasha, after finishing ninth grade, entered a regional medical college, completed a few short courses, and straight away landed a job in the beauty industry. Thats when the first serious quarrel erupted between me and Victoria.
What do you mean she doesnt want a proper education? A diploma is a passport, a proof of competence, Victoria snapped. And where has your own diploma taken you? Are you a product inspector now? She rattled off accusations, You cant even pick a decent pair of shoes, you keep calling me, you?
I tried to defend Sasha, Pashka, dear, whats she shouting at me for? I never said anything wrong. Do you really think a person can survive today without some education? I only want the best for my granddaughter, but youre crushing her future.
Meanwhile, Pavel, my husband, stood with us, explaining that Sasha barely managed the medical college, retaking two subjects three times. Shell never get through a fulltime program at a good university on a budget, and we cant afford a private one. Our budget isnt elastic, he said. Besides, last year we sent Lena to a regular school, not a distant university. And we have to think about funding Boriss schooling too. Where do we find extra money for a prestige diploma for Sasha?
Sasha answered, I got my diploma, then spent a week partying with friends, and now I work in a salon, doing brows and lips for women who want to look beautiful. I earn decent money. The old idea that education must be universitylevel is outdated. Her words seemed to finally reach Victoria. Perhaps because Pavels arguments convinced her that a lofty degree would be a heavy burden for Sasha, the issue fell quietuntil Lenas decision resurfaced.
Lena, fresh out of high school, announced she would not pursue a parttime program at a university two streets from home that, conveniently, had a branch of Moscow State. Whats the point? Im not planning to conquer the capital. Ive visited a few times and realized I dont want to live there, she said, shrugging. We have everything we need here in the provincial center: jobs, culture, even fewer fumes than the city. Im even thinking of moving to a remote town and working online in the future.
Victoria exploded, Polina, you must stop letting them off the hook! If we keep coddling them, no smart person will be left in the family. She turned her ire toward Lena, calling her a burden, a plug that clogs the household. Before Lena could retort, Sasha cut in, So you think Im a plug? Every time you need me to clean or shop, you call me that. How can I live with such a label? And why do you keep taking my money and things?
I was taken aback. What things? I asked. Sasha listed the occasional kettle or microwave shed bought for her grandmother, saying she didnt mind the small expenses. I never expected my help to be seen as charity. I thought I was just being a good granddaughter.
Sasha replied, Grandma, without a university degree youre nothing but a shopkeeper, you know that? The words cut deep. I felt my patience snap. I demanded Victoria leave our home and never return. Pavel, hearing his mothers outburst, sided entirely with me and cut off contact with his own mother. He told her, Its one thing to be fixated on a goal, its another to insult your own grandchildren because of that fixation.
Since then, Victoria has tried a few times to make peace, but the wounds remain. Sasha and Lena no longer answer her calls, and I keep my distance as well. Boris and Pavel still meet her in neutral places, but we havent spoken about any future education plans for the grandchildren.
Perhaps, in time, she will learn from her mistakes and, having lost two granddaughters, might find a way to keep a relationship with the third child. Only time will tell.
Polina.