My daughter-in-law has turned the house into a party zone, and my son won’t say a thing!
“My son called me, nearly in tears,” shares Margaret, gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. “He asked if he could come stay with us in Manchester for a while to work. His wife keeps dragging her friends over every day, and he can’t concentrate at his computer!” She could barely contain her outrage.
“Did you let him?” asks her neighbour, pouring more tea.
“Of course I did!” Margaret’s voice quivered with resentment. “I’ve told him a hundred times—sort things out with your wife! But it’s useless. He showed up exhausted, starving, eyes bloodshot. Sat at his laptop and didn’t move until midnight. Says he’s got an important project and the deadlines are tight.”
“Why can’t he work at home? Is his wife in the way?”
“That place isn’t a home—it’s a bloody circus!” Margaret sighs. “One day her sister’s over, the next it’s a crowd of mates. Noise, shouting, music blaring. How’s anyone supposed to work like that?”
Her son, James, is a design engineer. He’s been married to Emily for six years. At first, Margaret couldn’t have been prouder of her daughter-in-law. Emily was quiet, well-mannered, with a degree in finance. And when their grandson, Oliver, was born, Margaret thought she was perfect. “What a homemaker! Everything’s spotless, the kid’s well looked after, James is fed. I was over the moon for my son,” she recalls wistfully.
James climbed the career ladder while Emily was on maternity leave. In three years, he made senior engineer—but with promotion came longer hours. Then, everything changed. “My boy, always so lively and full of energy, just shrank before my eyes,” Margaret says, blinking back tears. “I thought it was work stress, but no—it was home.”
One day, she dropped by their flat in central Manchester unannounced. And there it was—a full-blown party. Emily’s friends, music blasting, laughter from the kitchen. James was locked in the bedroom, hunched over his laptop, and Oliver was nowhere to be seen. Turned out Emily had sent him to her parents’ in the suburbs. These gatherings had become routine. Every night—girls’ nights, her sister, dancing till midnight. Birthdays, “just because” celebrations. James couldn’t get any work done. “I walk in, and the place is a wreck. How am I supposed to focus?” he complained.
Margaret tried talking to Emily. She snapped back, “I’m done playing the perfect wife and maid! Five years with no breaks—cleaning, cooking, the kid. Did anyone thank me? No! Now I’m having fun with my mates, and there’s no blokes here. Oliver’s at his gran’s, happy and fed. If James has a problem, he can say it to my face!”
James noticed Emily changed as soon as she went back to work. Weekdays, she’s the perfect wife—but weekends, she “lets loose.” He’d love to put a stop to the parties, but he’s afraid. “She’ll blow up, and it’ll get worse,” he says. Margaret’s horrified. “My son’s too soft—he won’t stand up to her,” she frets. “What if Emily doesn’t stop? What if she drinks herself into trouble? What happens to the family then?”
Her friends ask, “Can’t Emily’s mum talk some sense into her?” Margaret just shakes her head. “Her mum thinks it’s fine. Says she’s young, she’s tired, let her have fun while she can. Oliver’s with her—she doesn’t mind. And since James isn’t saying anything, he must be alright with it.”
Margaret doesn’t know what to do. She sees her son suffering, their family falling apart. James can’t work at home, and Emily doesn’t seem to want normal life back. “This can’t go on!” Margaret fumes. “If this keeps up, they’ll divorce, and Oliver will grow up without a dad!”
What would you do in Margaret’s place? How do you help your son without wrecking his marriage? Have you been through something similar? Share your advice—this is getting desperate.
