When my mother-in-law moved into our home out of nowhere, I thought it was just about a plumbing problem. Turns out, she had a whole other plan. And let me tell you, her tactics were more intense than I ever expected.
I came home that evening after a long, draining day, wanting nothing more than some peace and quiet. But the second I opened the door, I knew something was off. There were boxes all over the place. My heart skipped a beat.
I dropped my bag by the door, carefully stepping over a pile of shoes, and followed the mess down the hall. That’s when I saw her. My mother-in-law, Faye, was in the guest room, unpacking like it was no big deal.
Clothes were tossed across the bed. Her jasmine-scented perfume filled the air, and photos of her dogs were already on the nightstand.
“Faye?” My voice was tight, trying to stay calm. “What’s going on?”
Without even looking at me, she waved a hand, casually saying, “Oh, didn’t Luke tell you? My house had a little ‘problem.’ Pipes burst and flooded everything. I’ll be staying here for a bit until it’s fixed.”
I blinked. Flooding? That didn’t add up. She lived in a newly redone house, top-notch everything. I hadn’t heard a peep about issues until now.
Before I could wrap my head around it, Luke appeared behind me. He looked guilty, eyes dodging mine. “Yeah… about that.” He rubbed his neck, shifting awkwardly. “Faye’s gonna stay with us for a while. Just until her house is sorted.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” I asked, my stare sharp.
He shrugged like it was nothing. “It’s just for a little bit, babe. You and Faye get along, right?”
Get along? If by “get along,” he meant her backhanded comments about how we’d been married six years and still hadn’t given her grandkids, then sure. We were pals. But I forced a smile, the kind you fake when you’re about to lose it. “Of course. Totally get it.”
Hours later, after acting like everything was fine, I got up for some water. As I passed the kitchen, I heard them whispering.
“You didn’t tell her the real reason, did you?” Faye’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet.
Luke sighed. “No, Mom. I didn’t.”
“Well,” Faye huffed, “I’m here to keep things in check. Married this long with no kids… someone’s gotta figure out what’s up. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
My stomach twisted. This wasn’t about pipes. She was here to snoop. To push me about kids. To “fix” me. I stood frozen in the hallway, my blood boiling. What had I just walked into?
The next morning, I woke up with a plan. If Faye wanted to play her game, I’d play mine. But I wasn’t going to argue with her. No, I was going to drown her in kindness. By 8 a.m., I’d kicked off phase one of my “operation.”
I cleared out our whole master bedroom. Every piece of clothing, every photo frame, every trace of Luke and me was crammed into the tiny guest room. I even dug out Faye’s favorite daisy-patterned bedspread from the back of the linen closet and spread it over the bed like I was setting up a fancy hotel.
When I was done, I stood in the doorway, checking my work. The bedspread was perfect, her dog photos were lined up on the dresser, and I topped it off with a “Welcome to Your New Home” basket. Bath salts, jasmine-scented candles, fancy chocolates.
By the time Luke got home from work, I was in the cramped guest room, stuffing our clothes into whatever space I could find. He walked in, forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Why are you in here?” He peeked around the corner. “Where’s our stuff?”
“Oh, I moved everything,” I said, flashing him my sweetest smile. “Your mom deserves the master bedroom, don’t you think? It’s only fair. She needs the space more than we do.”
His eyes went wide in shock. “You… gave her our bedroom?”
“Of course,” I said, grinning. “She’s family, after all. We’ll be just fine in here.”
Luke stood there, mouth half open, trying to process what I’d done. But what could he say? Faye was his mom, and I wasn’t technically doing anything wrong. He sighed and walked out without another word.
For the next few days, I made sure Faye was living like a queen. Fresh towels every morning, little snacks on the nightstand, and those jasmine candles she loved.
She strutted around the house like she owned it, smiling at me like she’d won. But while Faye was basking in luxury, Luke was starting to lose it. Sharing the guest room was driving him up the wall. Not just the tight space, but his mom’s new obsession with getting him ready for fatherhood.
Every morning, without fail, she’d hand him a schedule of vitamins.
“You need to take these, Luke,” she’d say, shoving a multivitamin at him. “It’s important to prep your body for healthy kids.”
Luke would roll his eyes but take the pills just to keep her quiet.
It didn’t stop there. “Should you really be watching TV at night?” she’d ask over dinner. “That’s not very baby-friendly. You should be reading parenting books. Or working out. And no more video games! You need to grow up, Luke. Fatherhood’s serious.”
By day four, I found Luke sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at a pile of parenting books his mom had ordered online.
“I think I’m losing my mind,” he muttered, holding up a book titled “What To Expect When You’re Expecting.” “She expects me to read this.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, Luke,” I said, holding back a laugh, “you did say we’d be just fine, didn’t you?”
It was nonstop. Faye kicked it up a notch. One evening, she handed Luke a typed list of “fertility-boosting” foods. Spinach, quinoa, grilled salmon—no more burgers, no more pizza. She smiled sweetly, like she was doing him a huge favor.
“Your future kids will thank you,” she chirped.
Luke stared at the list like it was a prison sentence. “Wait, no pizza? Ever?”
“That’s right, dear,” she said, patting his shoulder. “I’ve planned all your meals for the week. You’ll feel so much better eating clean.”
That night at dinner, we sat around the table eating dry salmon and bland spinach. Faye watched Luke like a hawk, her eyes flicking from his plate to his face. He squirmed, poking at his food.
“Luke,” she started, “did you take your vitamins this morning?”
He sighed, jabbing his fork into the spinach. “Yeah, Mom. I took them.”
“And what about the gym? Did you make time for that? You’ve put on a little weight. It’s important to be in shape if you want to be a good dad.”
I couldn’t help it. I kicked him under the table to keep from laughing out loud. He shot me a look, his face torn between annoyance and desperation. After days of this, it was finally getting to him.
Later that night, once Faye was in bed, Luke turned to me, rubbing his temples. His voice was low, almost begging. “I can’t do this anymore, Kiera. The guest room, the vitamins, the baby talk… I’m going nuts.”
I bit my lip, trying not to smile. “You have to admit,” I said, unable to hide my amusement, “it’s kind of funny.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not funny.”
I let out a small laugh. “Okay, okay, it’s a little funny.”
Luke groaned and flopped onto the bed. “I booked her a room at the hotel down the street. I can’t take another day of this.”
The next morning, he broke the news at breakfast.
“Mom, I’ve booked you a nice hotel nearby until the repairs at your house are done. You’ll be way more comfortable there.”
She blinked, clearly caught off guard. “But I’m perfectly fine here! And besides, isn’t it time you two got serious about giving me grandkids?”
Luke’s jaw tightened. “Mom, we’ll decide that when we’re ready. For now, the hotel’s best for everyone.”
For a moment, Faye just stared at him. Then, realizing she had no ground to stand on, she nodded reluctantly. “Well… if you insist.”
By the end of the day, she was gone. The house was ours again.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Luke collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh of relief. “Finally.”
I grinned, plopping down beside him. “So… spinach for dinner?”
He groaned. “Never again.”
