The Mother-in-Law Took Everything, Even the Kettle! Dramatic Tales from Life
Emily fought back when her mother-in-law crossed every line, demanding money and possessions. Discover how she stood her ground, protected her family, and found freedom!
In a quiet town on the outskirts of Yorkshire, where winds whispered through old cobbled streets, Emily and her husband James were trying to build their life together. But the shadow of his mother, Margaret Williams, loomed over them like a storm cloud.
“That’s such a stylish toaster you’ve got! I’d love one like that for my place,” Margaret remarked with a faint smile, looking at her son with that tone—the one that made James’s stomach tighten.
“Mum, we picked it to match our kitchen. Yours is a different style—it wouldn’t fit,” James tried to laugh it off, but he already knew the toaster would soon vanish into her flat.
Margaret was a woman who always got her way. A new blender, a fancy coffee machine, even the curtains—if she so much as hinted at wanting something, James, ever the dutiful son, would hand it over without protest.
“You can buy yourself another one, love. I’m on a pension, I can’t afford these things. After all I’ve done for you, working my fingers to the bone! You do love your mum, don’t you? Because I love you more than anything!” Margaret had a way of twisting words until refusal felt impossible. Her guilt trips sank deep, and James always folded.
He never argued with her. Even if she never used the things he gave her, he shrugged it off—*maybe one day she’ll need it*. How could he say no to the woman who never let him forget her sacrifices?
James had grown up in a house where his mother’s word was law. When he didn’t get into university on a scholarship, Margaret insisted he take out loans for a business degree.
“It’s the sensible choice! You’ll earn good money, like proper folk do,” she’d say.
But by his first year, James knew business wasn’t for him. He dreamed of design, of creativity. When he called his mother to confess, her response was instant:
“I’ve already paid three terms’ fees! What were you thinking before? I’m working two jobs to put you through school, and this is how you repay me? Finish the degree, then do an internship with Aunt Barbara—I’ve sorted it.”
Aunt Barbara, his mother’s old friend, ran a department at a local firm. After lectures, James would sit in her office, enduring long-winded stories and the occasional menial task.
“Mum, I can’t keep doing this. It’s not me,” he finally admitted after months of misery.
But by then, Emily had entered his life. A girl from another course, she charmed him with her easy laughter and big dreams. They started dating, sneaking off to frosty parks, ice-skating, sipping hot chocolate in cosy cafés. Lost in love, James skipped his internship, dozed through lectures—until Aunt Barbara complained to Margaret.
“After all I’ve done, this is how you repay me? Skipping work, failing studies, running after some girl? You’ll get a part-time job—half your wages go to me. Seen the price of groceries lately? No more gallivanting!”
James obeyed. He kept just enough for dates with Emily; the rest went to his mother. Margaret would sigh dramatically, “Time you stood on your own two feet. I’ve my own life to think of—pension’s coming, health’s not what it was. Don’t tell me you’d begrudge your old mum?”
After graduation, Margaret gave them an unexpected gift—keys to a flat.
“Here you are, my dears! Make yourselves happy.”
Emily was stunned; James hugged his mother, calling her an angel.
“Saved every penny for you, I did,” Margaret declared.
But the flat was a cramped one-bedder with peeling wallpaper. Emily stayed hopeful: “We’ll fix it up, make it ours!”
Their joy didn’t last. Margaret lived down the road and soon had Emily “popping round for groceries,” “scrubbing the oven,” or “sorting the attic.” Exhausted after work, Emily obliged—until Margaret’s latest request.
“I’ve been thinking—a new sofa for the lounge. We’ll take your old one apart, save on costs. Lucky I’ve got you, Emily—you’re so handy!”
“I don’t mind helping, but James and I have plans this weekend. I’m here every evening as it is,” Emily protested.
“Oh, is that so? I raised my boy, bought you a roof over your heads, and now you’re clutching at straws?” Margaret’s tone turned sharp.
After that, the requests stopped. Emily breathed easier—until James dropped a bombshell:
“Mum needs a spa break. The vouchers aren’t cheap. Your salary’s decent—can we cover it? I’ll transfer you the money.”
Suddenly, Emily realised why she’d been footing the bills for food, petrol, and utilities. She’d thought James was saving for a car or a holiday—but it was all going to his mother.
“She never offered to chip in! Mum bought us the flat—no mortgage hanging over us,” James argued.
“Maybe a mortgage would’ve been better? Pay it off in a few years, instead of funding your mother forever?” Emily shot back.
James wouldn’t listen. Emily felt their marriage crumbling under Margaret’s grip.
The final straw came when Margaret visited and left with their brand-new toaster—the one they’d saved for.
“How are we meant to make breakfast now?” Emily snapped.
“I’ll bring the old one from work. We’ll buy another later. Was I supposed to tell Mum no?”
“And if she fancies our bed next? The telly too?” Emily was seething.
“Oh, like you’re not living in *her* flat? For free?”
“That excuses her bleeding us dry? Enough!” Emily marched to Margaret’s.
Inside, she froze. Boxes of new gadgets, designer shopping bags, takeaway containers from posh restaurants.
“Margaret, when we have children, am *I* supposed to support them alone? Stop draining us! Half this stuff still has tags on!”
“Cross that bridge later. My son’s wages have always been mine. Don’t like it? Off you pop!”
“Your son has dreams too! He wanted to take up fishing, save for a car—but you take everything!”
“Know your place, girl. One word from me, and he’ll drop you like a hot coal. Now run along—the floors need mopping. He loves *me* more. Understood?”
Emily didn’t back down. She played James the recording.
“Mum would never—you’re twisting it!”
But the proof was undeniable. Pale-faced, James tested his mother.
“Lost my job, Mum. Spa’s off.”
“What do you mean *off*? Emily can pay—she’s family! My heart’s not what it was!”
A doctor’s visit confirmed Margaret was in fine health. “Eat well, less stress, you’ll live to a hundred.”
James, emboldened, announced their move to another city—and plans for children.
“You ought to buy near me! How will I manage alone?” Margaret wailed.
“We’ve picked a place. No handouts this time—we’ve a mortgage now.”
“But how will I live?”
“Rent out the flat if you must. You love me—you’ll understand, yeah?”
Margaret had no retort. Emily and James started anew—far from her grasp, with hope for happier days.
