I blinked. Flooding? That didn’t sound right. She lived in a freshly renovated house, nothing but top-tier everything. I hadn’t heard a single complaint about it until now.
Before I could even begin to process, Joe appeared behind me. He looked guilty, eyes darting anywhere but at me. “Yeah… about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly shifting his weight. “Mom’s gonna stay with us for a bit. Just until the house gets fixed.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” I asked, my glare piercing.
He shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s only for a little while, babe. You and Mom get along, right?”
Get along? If by “get along,” he meant the passive-aggressive remarks about how we’d been married for six years and still hadn’t given her any grandkids, then sure. We were best friends. But I plastered on a smile, the kind you give when you’re two seconds away from snapping. “Of course. I totally understand.”
Hours later, after I’d pretended everything was fine, I got up for some water. As I passed the kitchen, I heard them talking in hushed voices.
“You didn’t tell her the real reason, did you?” Jane’s voice was sharp, like a knife slicing through the night.
Joe sighed. “No, Mom. I didn’t.”
“Well,” Jane huffed, “I’m here to keep an eye on things. Married this long with no children… someone’s got to figure out what’s going on. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”
My stomach twisted. This wasn’t about pipes. She was here to snoop. To pressure me about kids. To “handle” me. I stood frozen in the hallway, blood boiling. What the hell had I just walked into?
The next morning, I woke up with a plan. If Jane wanted to play her little game, I’d play mine. But I wasn’t going to get into a battle of wits with her. No, I was going to kill her with kindness. By 8 a.m., I had already started phase one of my “operation.”
I cleared out our entire master bedroom. Every piece of clothing, every picture frame, every trace of Joe and me was stuffed into the tiny guest room. I even found Jane’s favorite floral bedspread from the back of the linen closet and spread it over the bed like I was preparing a five-star hotel suite.
When I was done, I stood in the doorway, surveying my work. The bedspread was pristine, her cat pictures were lined up on the dresser, and to top it off, I made a “Welcome to Your New Home” basket. Bath bombs, lavender-scented candles, fancy chocolates.
By the time Joe got home from work, I was already sitting in the cramped guest room, arranging our clothes into whatever space I could find. He walked in, his forehead creased with confusion. “Why are you in here?” He peeked around the corner. “Where’s our stuff?”
“Oh, I moved everything,” I said, turning to him with the sweetest smile I could muster. “Your mom deserves the master bedroom, don’t you think? It’s only fair. She needs the space more than we do.”
His eyes widened in disbelief. “You… gave her our bedroom?”
“Of course,” I said with a grin. “She’s family, after all. We’ll be just fine in here.”
Joe stood there, mouth half open, processing what I’d done. But what could he say? Jane was his mother, and I wasn’t technically doing anything wrong. He sighed and walked out of the room without another word.
For the next few days, I made sure Jane was living like royalty. Fresh towels every morning, little snacks placed on the nightstand, and those lavender candles I knew she loved.
She wandered around the house like she owned the place, smiling at me like she’d won. But while Jane was lounging in luxury, Joe was starting to crack. Sharing the guest room was driving him nuts. Not just the lack of space, but his mom’s new obsession with prepping him for fatherhood.
Every morning, without fail, she’d hand him a schedule of vitamins.
“You need to take these, Joe,” she’d say, thrusting a multivitamin at him. “It’s important to get your body ready if you want healthy kids.”
Joe would roll his eyes but take the pills just to keep her quiet.
It didn’t stop there. “Should you really be watching TV at night?” she’d ask over dinner. “That’s not very baby-friendly. You should be reading parenting books. Or exercising. And no more video games! You need to mature, Joe. Fatherhood is serious.”
By day four, I found Joe sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at a stack of parenting books his mom had ordered online.
“I think I’m losing it,” he muttered, holding up a book titled “What To Expect When You’re Expecting.” “She expects me to read this.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, Joe,” I said, suppressing a laugh, “you did say we’d be just fine, didn’t you?”
It was relentless. Jane had taken things up a notch. One evening, she handed Joe a neatly typed list of “fertility-boosting” foods. Kale, quinoa, grilled salmon—no more burgers, no more pizza. She smiled sweetly as if she was doing him the world’s greatest favor.
“Your future kids will thank you,” she chirped.
Joe stared at the list like it was a death sentence. “Wait, no pizza? Ever?”
“That’s right, dear,” she said, patting his shoulder. “I’ve planned all your meals for the week. You’ll feel so much better once you start eating clean.”
That night at dinner, we sat around the table eating dry salmon and tasteless kale. Jane watched Joe like a hawk, her eyes flicking from his plate to his face. He shifted uncomfortably, picking at his food.
“Joe,” she started, “did you take your vitamins this morning?”
He sighed, stabbing a fork into the kale. “Yeah, Mom. I took them.”
“And what about the gym? Did you make time for that? You know, you’ve put on a little weight. It’s important to be in shape if you want to be a good father.”
I couldn’t help it. I kicked him under the table to stop myself from bursting out laughing. He shot me a look, his expression torn between frustration and desperation. After days of this, it was finally getting to him.
Later that night, once Jane had gone to bed, Joe turned to me, rubbing his temples. His voice was low, almost pleading. “I can’t do this anymore, Tiana. The guest room, the vitamins, the baby talk… I’m going insane.”
I bit my lip, trying to suppress a smile. “You have to admit,” I said, failing to keep the amusement out of my voice, “it’s kind of funny.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not funny.”
I let out a small laugh. “Okay, okay, it’s a little funny.”
Joe groaned and collapsed onto the bed. “I booked her a room at the hotel down the street. I can’t take another day of this.”
The next morning, he broke the news at breakfast.
“Mom, I’ve booked you a nice hotel nearby until the repairs at your house are done. You’ll be much more comfortable there.”
She blinked, clearly surprised. “But I’m perfectly fine here! And besides, isn’t it time you two got serious about giving me grandkids?”
Joe’s jaw clenched. “Mom, we’ll decide that when we’re ready. For now, the hotel is best for everyone.”
For a moment, Jane just stared at him. Then, realizing she had no leg to stand on, she reluctantly nodded. “Well… if you insist.”
By the end of the day, she was gone. The house was ours again.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Joe collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh of relief. “Finally.”
I grinned, sinking down beside him. “So… kale for dinner?”
He groaned. “Never again.”
My Greedy In-Laws Tried to Get Rid of Our Sick Mom, but She Brilliantly Taught Them a Lesson
When Lexie’s husband’s parents are left to give up their home due to losing their jobs, they are left stranded. Seeing her husband’s distress at being unable to help, Lexie allows her mother to welcome them to stay with her. Things start off okay, but then the tables start to turn. Instead of being grateful, they start to complain about everything, resulting in a call to social services.
Not long after Cameron and I got married, his parents were faced with unfortunate circumstances. His mom, Jessica, and dad, Roger had no choice but to give up their home because Roger had lost his job.
An elderly couple sitting on a bench | Source: Unsplash
Cameron and I didn’t have the space to take them in. But they were desperate, and so were we. We couldn’t let them just try and figure it out for themselves.
When they realized that my mother lives alone, they asked her to let them move in with her. My mom had a double-story house, but due to being wheelchair bound since a car accident a few years ago, she had a live-in nurse to care for her.
A broken windshield | Source: Pexels
“Please, Tanya,” my mother-in-law said when we were all at my mother’s house for dinner. “We don’t have anywhere else to go. And we don’t have any money available at the moment.”
I knew that this entire thing affected my husband because there was only so much we could do in our own capacity. When my mother agreed, Cameron gripped onto my hand tightly and sighed in relief.
A woman in a wheelchair | Source: Midjourney
“Of course, you can stay here. You can stay for as long as you need to,” my mother told them.
At first, things were okay.
My mother-in-law cooked meals, and my father-in-law mowed the grass and took care of the basic upkeep of the house.
A person cutting oranges | Source: Pexels
But then, things changed and social services got involved. It was a nightmare.
This is what happened.
My in-laws began complaining that my mom was occupying the whole first floor, something that was obvious. Since her accident, my sister and I had converted the first floor into an entire house by itself for my mother.
A wheelchair beside a bed | Source: Pexels
She needed her space, and we were going to give it to her. The second floor was for our space when we visited Mom.
Instead of being grateful, my in-laws complained that they couldn’t put their stuff there. They mumbled about the simple food my mother had in her fridge.
An open fridge | Source: Pexels
“It’s such basic foods. There’s nothing new or different here,” Roger would say.
But still, even though they complained, they didn’t try to buy their own food or food that they would have liked to eat on occasion.
An elderly couple shopping | Source: Pexels
Nothing changed when Jessica got a job as head librarian at the local library or when Roger got a job as a proofreader for the local newspaper.
“Don’t you think they should start looking for a new place?” Cameron asked me when we were taking a walk one evening.
An elderly woman in a library | Source: Pexels
“I’m sure your mom cannot wait to have the house back,” he said.
“Actually,” I replied. “I think she enjoys having people there. She always said that it was too quiet with just her and Linda.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “But my parents can be a lot.”
A couple taking a walk | Source: Pexels
It was as if my husband had spoken it into existence.
One day, as I went over to my mother’s house with pastries, I found her looking upset.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her immediately.
Pastries in a box | Source: Pexels
“Cameron’s parents,” she began slowly. “They’ve been hinting about a nursing home for me. I heard them talk about it last night, too.”
“Mom, do you want me to ask them to leave? They’re crossing the line,” I said, worried about her well-being.
A woman holding her face | Source: Unsplash
“Oh, honey,” she said, a mysterious smile forming on her face. “I’ll take care of everything, don’t you worry.”
A few days later, my mother-in-law called us crying.
“How could Tanya do that to us?” she asked.
A crying old woman | Source: Pexels
Apparently, my mother had told them to pack their things and move to the first floor because she was ready to move into a nursing home. She said that she needed the help and that she wanted to live a little easier.
Cameron’s parents thought that they had won the battle they created.
A healthcare facility | Source: Unsplash
Instead, my mother had called social services, telling them that she had two individuals who were living with her temporarily but needed the help.
The next day, people from social services arrived at my mother’s doorstep, ready to take Jessica and Roger away to their social housing facilities.
A person holding a phone | Source: Pexels
They were livid.
Cameron and I met them at my mother’s house because they demanded an audience.
“This is outrageous! We thought we were moving downstairs, not out of the house!” my mother-in-law shrieked.
An angry old woman | Source: Pexels
“How dare she trick us like this! We have done everything for her these past few months,” my father-in-law added.
Beside me, my husband flinched. He was caught in the middle, not knowing what to do or how to react.
“You took advantage of her kindness and tried to push her into a nursing home. You got what you deserved,” I retorted, barely containing my own anger at their words.
An angry old man | Source: Pexels
“You can’t just throw us out like this!” my mother-in-law protested.
“You’ve got a little place to live now,” my mother said, smiling. “But also, that’s not my problem. I helped you out, and you did nothing but complain. You didn’t want to be here. You were just here because you had no choice. Now, you can learn to fend for yourselves.”
Jessica was appalled. I don’t think she expected my mother to retaliate in that way.
A smiling woman in a wheelchair | Source: Unsplash
It was true, social services housed them in a little apartment which was close to both their jobs. They would be absolutely fine until they chose to move elsewhere.
As they left, they continued to curse, but it was clear that they had been defeated by the whole episode.
A small apartment | Source: Unsplash
“I’m sorry,” my husband told my mother when we settled her down again. “This was all my fault.”
It took a while for my mother to calm him down and make him realize that nothing was his fault.
“Your parents needed a place to stay, and they were welcome to do so here, but they continued to complain. They made life difficult here. Everything was a problem,” she said.
An upset man | Source: Unsplash
I continued to work my way around the kitchen while they spoke. I knew that my husband needed a pick-me-up, so I made his favorite Indian dishes, hoping that it would do the trick.
If I had to admit it, I also felt like it was my fault. I should have objected to the move in the first place. But I knew that my in-laws needed a place to live when they lost their homes. And maybe it was because of guilt.
A plate of food | Source: Unsplash
Guilt born from the mere fact that Cameron and I couldn’t do it ourselves, that we both had allowed them to live with my mother.
As we got into bed that night, I told my husband that we needed to see his parents. We needed to make sure that they were okay, despite their horrible behavior, they needed to know that we still cared.
A couple lying together | Source: Unsplash
The following day, we met them at their new apartment. It was a quaint little place, but it was just enough for the two of them. As we walked in, there were boxes lying everywhere and the smell of burnt toast permeated the air.
“I didn’t check the toaster setting,” Roger said, as his way of explaining.
Opened cardboard boxes | Source: Midjourney
We ended up taking them to a café for lunch, where they admitted to their behavior.
“We were in the wrong,” my mother-in-law said. “We know that now. We saw an easy way to live with Tanya, and we just wanted more. But now, we have to make it work for ourselves.”
An interior of a coffee shop | Source: Unsplash
I dug into my pancakes while Cameron let his parents have a piece of his mind. He went on about how they needed to be responsible for their actions and that nothing would make up for their behavior toward my mother.
“You embarrassed me. And you took advantage of my wife’s mother,” he said. “Do you know how that makes me feel?”
A stack of pancakes | Source: Unsplash
I allowed him to talk his way through it, while his parents continued to eat their eggs benedict in silence.
As we drove home, my husband stopped to get my mother a bouquet of flowers.
“She deserves it,” he said.
A bouquet of flowers | Source: Unsplash
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
When Katie discovers that her mother-in-law has been making strange dolls for her daughter, she confronts the old woman, only to discover that she has been holding onto grief for her entire life. But what does that mean for the mysterious dolls? And the little girl who plays with them?
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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