When my mother-in-law unexpectedly moved into our house, I first thought it was because of a plumbing issue. But it turned out she had a different plan altogether. Trust me, her tactics were much more ruthless than I could have imagined.
I had a long, exhausting day and all I wanted when I got home was some peace and quiet. But the moment I opened the door, I sensed something was off. Boxes were everywhere, making my heart skip a beat.
I dropped my bags by the entrance and carefully stepped over a pile of shoes, following the trail of mess down the hallway. That’s when I saw her: Jane, my mother-in-law, unpacking in the guest room like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Clothes were strewn across the bed, her floral perfume filled the air, and photos of her pets sat proudly on the nightstand.
“Mom?” I asked, trying to stay calm. “What’s going on?”
She waved her hand dismissively and said, “Oh, didn’t Joe tell you? There was a little incident at my place. The pipes burst, and everything flooded. I’ll be staying here until it’s fixed.”
I blinked in disbelief. Flooding? That made no sense. Her house was newly renovated and in perfect condition. I hadn’t heard a single complaint.
Just then, Joe appeared behind me, looking guilty and avoiding my gaze. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbled, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Mom’s going to stay with us for a while until the repairs are done.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” I asked sharply.
He shrugged, acting like it was no big deal. “It’s just temporary, babe. You and your mom get along fine, right?”
Get along? If by “get along” he meant the passive-aggressive comments about how we’d been married six years with no grandchildren, then sure, we were the best of friends. I forced a tight smile—the kind you give when you’re about to lose it. “Of course. Very clear.”
I waited a few hours before getting up for a glass of water, pretending everything was fine. As I passed the kitchen, I overheard them talking quietly.
“You didn’t tell her the real reason, did you?” Jane’s voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.
Joe sighed. “No, Mom. It wasn’t me.”
“Well,” Jane grumbled, “I’m here to keep an eye on things. After being married this long with no kids… someone has to figure out what’s going on. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”
My gut twisted. This had nothing to do with pipes. She was here to spy, to pressure me about kids, to control me. My blood boiled as I stood frozen in the hallway. What had I gotten myself into? I quietly stepped inside.
The next morning, I woke up with a plan. If Jane wanted to play games, I’d play too—but I wasn’t going to engage in a battle of wits. I’d defeat her with kindness. By 8 a.m., I was already putting my plan in motion.
I cleared out our master bedroom, packing every piece of clothing, photo, and memento of Joe and me into the crowded guest room. I even found Jane’s favorite floral bedspread hidden in the linen closet and spread it over the bed like I was preparing a five-star hotel suite.
When I finished, I stood at the doorway and admired my work. The duvet was spotless, her cat pictures lined up neatly on the dresser, and I had even prepared a basket labeled “Welcome to Your New Home” filled with bath bombs, lavender candles, and luxury chocolates.
By the time Joe came home from work, I’d arranged our clothes wherever I could in the cramped guest room. Sitting there when he arrived, I saw his confused expression as he took in the scene. “Why are you in here? Where’s our stuff?”
“Oh, I moved everything,” I said, turning with the sweetest smile I could muster. “Do you think your mother deserves the master bedroom? It’s only fair. We don’t need the space as much as she does.”
His eyes widened in shock. “You… gave her our bedroom?”
“Of course,” I smiled. “She’s family. No problems here.”
Joe stood there, mouth half open, trying to process what I’d done. What could he say? Since Jane was his mother, I hadn’t broken any laws. After a heavy sigh, he left without another word.
Over the next days, I made sure Jane lived like royalty. Fresh towels every morning, lavender candles she loved, little snacks on the nightstand—everything she enjoyed.
She walked around the house smiling like she’d won, but Joe was starting to crack under the pressure. Sharing the guest room was bad enough, but Jane’s obsession with preparing him for fatherhood made things worse.
Every morning, she handed him vitamins. “You need to take these, Joe. Getting your body ready is important if you want healthy kids.”
Joe rolled his eyes but took them just to keep the peace.
But that wasn’t all. At dinner, she’d scold him: “Should you really be watching TV this late? That’s no good for making babies. You should be reading parenting books or exercising. No more video games! Time to grow up. Being a dad is a big responsibility.”
On day four, I found Joe sitting on the bed staring at a pile of parenting books Jane had bought online. He muttered, “I think I’m losing it… she expects me to read this.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Well, Joe, didn’t you say we’d be fine?”
Jane’s relentless campaign continued. She handed Joe a printed list of “fertility-boosting” foods. No more burgers or pizza—just quinoa, grilled salmon, and kale. She smiled warmly, telling him, “Your future kids will thank you.”
Joe looked at the list like it was a death sentence. “No pizza? Ever?”
“That’s right, dear,” Jane said, patting his shoulder. “I planned all your meals this week. You’ll feel better once you start eating right.”
That night, we sat at the table eating bland greens and dry fish. Jane’s eyes flicked from Joe’s plate to his face, studying him closely. He shifted uncomfortably, picking at his food.
“Joe,” she said, “did you take your vitamins this morning?”
He sighed. “Yes, Mom, I took them.”
“And the gym? When did you find time to go? You’ve gained some weight. If you want to be a good dad, you need to stay fit.”
I fought back laughter, nudging him under the table. His look was a mix of frustration and desperation.
By then, Joe was clearly feeling the pressure.
Later that night, when Jane was asleep, Joe whispered, rubbing his temples, “Tiana, I can’t take this anymore. The pregnancy talk, the vitamins, the guest room… I’m losing my mind.”
I bit my lip to hide my smile. “You have to admit, it’s kind of funny.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not funny.”
I chuckled. “Okay, okay, it’s a little funny.”
He groaned and collapsed onto the bed. “I booked her a hotel two blocks away. One more day here and I’m done.”
The next morning, he broke the news over breakfast.
“I booked a nice hotel for her until the repairs are done. She’ll feel more comfortable there.”
Jane blinked, surprised. “But I’m doing great here! And isn’t it about time you both took the idea of grandchildren seriously?”
Joe clenched his jaw. “When we’re ready, we’ll decide. For now, the hotel is best.”
Jane just stared for a moment, then grudgingly nodded. “Well… if you insist.”
She left by the end of the day. The house was ours again.
Joe sighed deeply, sinking into the couch as the door clicked shut behind her. “Finally.”
I laughed softly, sitting beside him. “So… kale for dinner?”
He groaned. “Never again.”