I’m cooking for the family, but my daughter’s friends ate everything!
My daughter Emily is the life and soul of her group. Her kindness and openness draw friends to her like moths to a flame. Our home in Manchester is always full of her mates—kids of all ages, not just her classmates. I’m glad she’s so sociable, but lately, things have gotten out of hand, and I’m at my wit’s end.
It started when Emily began inviting friends over. With winter settling in and the cold biting outside, I didn’t mind the kids playing indoors. At first, she’d offer them tea and biscuits, put on music, or come up with games. I even found it sweet how hospitable she was. But now she’s bringing strangers home—kids I’ve never seen before—and their behavior leaves me stunned.
Just the other day, I came back from work to find two unfamiliar teenagers in the kitchen. They were eating the beef stew straight from the pot—the one I’d made to last our family two days. Not a single spoonful was left! They piled their dirty plates in the sink and left without even saying goodbye. I was furious. We had nothing for dinner, and I was too exhausted to start cooking again.
I tried explaining to Emily that she can’t bring strangers home and let them eat our food. Biscuits or sweets? Fine. But the food in the fridge is for the family. She flared up, called me stingy, and stormed off to her room, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled. She locked herself in and refused to speak to me. I felt guilty, but what else could I do?
I boiled some potatoes, fried sausages, and called everyone to eat. Emily pointedly refused, acting as if I were the enemy. The next morning, before leaving for work, I warned her, “There’s enough food for two days. I’ll be home late—don’t expect me to cook.” Yet when I got back past eleven, my husband, James, was frying eggs in an empty kitchen. Emily’s friends had raided the fridge again. She shut herself in her room, unwilling to explain.
I’m at a loss. How do I get through to her? She won’t listen, throwing ridiculous accusations back at me: “You’re just selfish—you hate my friends!” Is this teenage rebellion? Did James and I mess up somewhere in raising her? I don’t know how to handle this. My heart is torn—I want her to be happy, but I can’t let this chaos go on.
I’m not tight-fisted, but our budget is stretched thin. James and I work ourselves to the bone just to put food on the table. I try to cook nice meals for our family, only to end up feeding strangers. My mum keeps saying, “It’s time to lay down the law!” But I won’t resort to harsh punishments. I want to resolve this peacefully—but how? Emily refuses to talk, and I feel like I’m losing my own daughter.
What would you suggest? How do I make Emily see that her actions hurt our family without pushing her away? How do I set boundaries so her friends don’t turn our home into a free café? Have you dealt with anything like this? I need advice—I’m on the edge.
