My son has turned into a total slob, and his girlfriend is his exact reflection. Im worn out from living in their mess.
I never imagined Id say it out loud, but Ive had enough. Enough of the piledup dishes, the floor that hasnt seen a broom in weeks, that lingering smell of leftovers, and the feeling of residing with careless housemates rather than in my own flat. All of it comes from my own son and his sweetheart, who have been crashing here like theyre on vacation for the past two months.
Louis is twenty. Hes enrolled in a distancelearning licence program, just finished his military service and immediately landed a job. An adult, on paperindependent, contributing to the bills, not idling. I was proud of him. That was until that infamous conversation.
Mom, he told me one day, Mathildes situation at home is terrible. Her parents are always fighting, throwing things around, and she cant even study in peace. Could she stay with us for a while until things calm down? We wont make a fuss.
I felt sorry for her. Id seen her beforeshy, polite, eyes downcast, softspoken. How could I refuse? Especially since Louis has his own room and theres space. I didnt expect the gift that would follow.
During the first few weeks they actually tried: dishes put away, floor swept, no noise. We even set up a cleaning scheduleSaturday was their turn, Wednesday mine. I thought maybe they had finally matured. But three weeks later everything collapsed.
Dirty plates with dried food sat in the sink for days, hair and wrappers littered the floor. The bathroom? Shampoo stains, hair clogged in the drain, soap residue. Their bedroom looked like a den: clothes tossed everywhere, crumbs on the desk, an unmade bed. Mathilde roamed around with a mask on her face and a phone in hand, as if she were at a spa, not in my home.
I tried to talk, to ask, to remind them. The answer was always the same: We didnt have time, well do it later. Except later never arrived. So I started handing them the mop and cleaning products directlyno blame, just silence. Even that didnt move the needle. Once they spilled sauce on the tablecloth and walked away without wiping it, and once again I had to clean everything myself.
When I stepped into their room and saw the chaos, I couldnt stay quiet:
Dont you mind living like this?
Louis, without flinching, replied:
Geniuses thrive in chaos.
I see no genius in this messjust two grownups who find it convenient to live like swine and expect their mother to serve them.
Louis promised to pitch ingroceries, bills. In reality he only pays the utilities. He does the shopping once a week, but sushi, pizza and other deliveries arrive almost daily. They offer them to me, but it doesnt warm my heartthe fridge stays empty. With that money we could have fed an entire family.
Mathilde doesnt work; shes studying. She receives a grant but never contributes a cent to groceries or cleaning. All her money goes toward frivolities. When I suggested a modest contribution, she shrugged, offended.
I raised Louis alone. His father left before he was born. My parents helped, I worked double, saved, did everything for him. I never blamed him, and Im not about to start now. Yet watching my flat turn into a dump is unbearable.
Ive tried calm discussionsonce, twice, three timesHolding my ground, its clear they wont change. They think Im an old nag who should be grateful they even tolerate me under the same roof.
Two months I held on. Thats enough. Ill tell them plainly: either you take responsibility or you move to student housing. Maybe there theyll learn what it means to respect other peoples work and space.
Because Im tired of being their housekeeper. I just want to live peacefully, without endless piles of dirty dishes and socks strewn across the kitchen.
What would you do? Should I risk a clash with my son, or keep turning a blind eye to this disaster in a home I built with my own hands?
My Son’s Life is a Mess; My Daughter-in-Law is His Reflection. I’m Exhausted from Living in Their Chaos.
