**”Im the Mistress of My Own Home: Why Ive Had Enough of My Mother-in-Laws Visits”**
*”This is my house, not yours”*: Why my mother-in-laws visits leave me shattered.
Every time she turns up, its like a storm sweeping through, leaving chaos in its wakeand it takes me a week to recover. No, thats not an exaggeration. My mother-in-law is convinced her way is the only right way, her methods the only proper ones. And every visit turns our home into a battleground. The worst part? She expects me to thank her for it.
It all started when my husband and I moved into my grandmothers old flat in Manchester. It was dated, needed work, but we poured our hearts into itnew windows, fresh wallpaper, brand-new furniture and appliances. Just as the place was finally starting to feel like *our* home, every detail reflecting our tastes, my mother-in-law showed up unannounced.
We tried to gently put her off: *”Theres still work being done, dust everywhereits not the best time for visitors.”* Didnt matter. She hopped on a train and arrived, suitcase in hand. On the very first day, she had a *surprise* for us. She went out and boughtgood grieffloral wallpaper straight out of the 90s, and put it up on one of the living room walls. Without even asking! Wed planned to start with the bathroomeverything was carefully scheduled. But no, she had to turn everything upside down.
When we got home from work and saw it I nearly burst into tears. My husband spent the evening calming me down, while my mother-in-law scolded me the next day for being ungrateful. *”I did all this for you, and you have the nerve to sulk?”* She left in a huff. My husband had to redo it all and even managed to return the wallpaper.
Youd think shed have learned. But no. As soon as the renovations were finished, she was back. This time, it was our *tidiness* that offended her. She emptied our wardrobe onto the floor to refold everything *”properly.”* When she started handling my underwear, I was stunned. She even had the nerve to lecture me:
*”Lace is vulgar. Cotton is more than enough!”*
I nearly snapped back: *”Why dont you pick out my knickers while youre at it? Maybe something frumpy enough to drown in?”* But I bit my tongue. The second she left, I rearranged everything. I begged my husband to talk to her. He tried to no avail.
The visits that followed were just as exhausting. Towels folded wrong, nappies binned for being *”toxic”**”I wont have my grandson poisoned by chemicals!”* Once, she actually threw them out, and my husband had to steer her away before I lost my temper.
You might think I hate her. I dont. From a distance, shes wonderfulhelpful, caring, full of good advice. But the moment she steps through our door, its over. I no longer feel at home. Im a guest in my own house.
Talking changes nothing. Even her own son cant reason with her. She bulldozes over every boundary. To her, Im a terrible homemaker because I dont wash dishes *her* way or sort towels by colour. Ive had enough. I dont want to fight, or ruin our relationship. But I cant take this intrusion anymore.
How do I make her understand that were our own family, with our own rules and routinesthat she cant impose her choices, no matter how *”well-meaning”*? How do I set boundaries without causing a rift? Honestly I dont know.
