My mother-in-law took offence when we refused to let her student son move in with us.
My husband and I have been together for eleven years. We live in a two-bedroom flat that we finally managed to pay off after years of mortgage payments. Were raising our eight-year-old son, and everything seemed to be going smoothlyuntil my mother-in-law had one of her “brilliant” ideas, which, as usual, shattered our peace.
My husband has a younger brother, Oliver. Hes seventeen, and to be honest, weve never been particularly close. My husband hardly ever sees himthe age gap is too wide. Besides, it irritates him how his parents coddle their youngestspoiling him, excusing his every flaw, and never demanding an ounce of effort.
Oliver is a disastrous student, barely clinging onto his place at sixth form. Yet every mediocre grade is rewardeda new tablet, the latest trainers. My husband always says, “If Id got a fail, Id have been up all night revising, but he gets presents as if its an achievement!”
I couldnt agree more. Weve seen Oliver refuse to heat up his own meal, even in front of everyone. He sits at the table until his parents have cooked, served, and cleared his plate. Not a “thank you,” not a “goodbye.” Just pushes his chair back and disappears into his room. He doesnt know where his socks are, cant make a cup of tea, and leaves his things in chaos. His parents do everything for him. My husband has tried to talk sense into his mother: “Youre turning him into a liability!” But she just shrugs. “Hes not like you. He needs more tenderness.”
Arguments, grudges, weeks of silencethats how those conversations always ended. We did our best to stay out of it. Until Oliver suddenly decided to go to university in our city. Then everything went wrong.
My mother-in-law, without a hint of shame, suggested Oliver move in with us. Apparently, student halls were out of the questionno guarantor, rent too high, and he wouldnt cope alone. “Youre family! Youve got a spare room!” she insisted, as if it were obvious.
I tried to explain calmly: one room has our bed, the other our childs. Where, exactly, would we fit another grown man? Thats when she hit us with her stroke of genius: “Just put an extra bed in your sons room! Theyll get on like a house on fire!” Two boys, no problem.
But my husband lost his patience. He cut her off. “Im not a babysitter, Mum! Trying to palm your baby off on us? No. Hes your sonyou deal with him! At seventeen, I was already living on my own, and I managed just fine!”
My mother-in-law flushed red, burst into tears, called us heartless, and stormed out. That evening, my father-in-law rang to berate us. “This isnt what family does! Youre abandoning your brother!”
But my husband stood firm. He said hed visit Oliver if his parents found him a place, but living with us was non-negotiable. “Enough of treating him like a helpless infant. Its time he grew up.”
“Hes only seventeen!” his father protested.
“I was seventeen when I left home,” my husband shot back. “And I survived. No one held my hand.” Then he hung up.
After that, my mother-in-law called repeatedlymy husband ignored her. Then came the text: “You can forget about the inheritance.” Honestly? If “inheritance” means taking on a spoiled brat, then no thanks. Weve already earned what we havethrough hard work, our family, our peace of mind.
Everyone must live with their choices. And if someone chose endless indulgence and excuses, let them face the consequences now. We owe nothing to anyone.
Life teaches us that guarding our boundariesand our sanityis sometimes the only way to protect what weve built.
