“Just One Day—and We Were Shown the Door”: How My Mother-in-Law Invited Us Over, Then Couldn’t Stand Our Kids
When my mother-in-law invited us to her countryside cottage for the weekend, I wasn’t exactly thrilled. Our relationship had always been… let’s say chilly. We never argued outright, but there was no warmth between us either. She’d only call occasionally to ask after the grandchildren, and I was fine with keeping our chats brief. But after retiring, Margaret suddenly decided she wanted to be “Grandmother of the Year” and spend time with the kids. “Come over for a barbecue, get some fresh air, relax!” she insisted. Well, if my husband didn’t mind and the children would enjoy it, I agreed.
He even left work early. We arrived, settled in, the barbecue was sizzling, the kids were playing, the weather was perfect. We were given the upstairs—spacious and comfortable. The evening was pleasant; my father-in-law poured my husband a few drinks, and they caught up. Meanwhile, I put our youngest to bed while the eldest stayed outside with his grandparents—some neighbors had dropped by. A couple of hours later, I returned to find Margaret scowling. “Take him. He’s drained me! Running around nonstop!”
The next morning, I woke early to make breakfast. Our youngest was with me in the kitchen, while the eldest slept in and later went outside to play football. Suddenly, Margaret stormed in, furious. “Your son has no manners! Racing up and down the stairs, shouting—guests are still sleeping!” Except no one was asleep—it was nearly nine. And he hadn’t been racing, just walking carefully. But there was no reasoning with her—if her grandson made noise, I was a terrible mother.
Later, when everyone was outside, he did run up the stairs once. “There! Again! No peace with them around!” she sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her forehead. I bit my tongue, but inside, I was seething. “Why invite us if you can’t stand your own grandchildren?!”
Then our youngest started wailing—he was teething. A full meltdown. Margaret recoiled as if electrocuted. “That’s it! I can’t stand it! Leave today! One more day and I’ll lose my mind!” she wailed theatrically. My husband tried to object. “Mum, I’m still tired—I can’t drive!” She immediately fetched a breathalyser. Yes, you heard right—she’d been testing his blood alcohol level every half-hour, waiting for the moment she could kick us out.
By lunchtime, we were packing. Our goodbyes were frosty. My husband still talks to his parents, but I won’t pick up the phone. Not now, not ever. Recently, she called again, inviting us for New Year’s at her countryside “paradise.” My reply was firm: “No. Once was enough. Your hospitality is more than we can bear.”
Some people crave family only on their own terms—love shouldn’t come with an expiry date.
