**”You’re Neither a Cook Nor a Maid”: How a Husband Set an Ultimatum for His Family and Everything Changed**
My husband, Edward, comes from a large and boisterous familythree brothers, two sisters. They all had their own homes, with children and spouses, yet they always ended up at ours. Not just for a quick cuppa, but for full-blown feasts. There was always an excuse: a birthday, a celebration, an anniversary. And every time, it was at our place. Because, as they put it, *”Yours is just so convenientbig house, lovely garden.”* Wed bought a spacious home on the outskirts of Manchester after years of hard work and saving. The moment we had a patio, a barbecue, a patch of lawn, and a parking space, the whole family decided it was now their *”second home.”*
At first, I didnt mind. Id grown up an only child and liked feeling part of a big family. Wed set the table, grill the meat, laugh together. But soon it became torture. Do you know what its like to cook for fifteen people? And not one of them ever offered to help. The women would settle straight into the shade with a glass of wine, the men would head off to light the barbecue. Meanwhile, Id be in the kitchen from dawn, chopping, frying, washing, peeling. Serving plates, clearing up afterwards. Only Edward would poke his head in, guilt written all over his face: *”Need a hand?”* Id bite back my annoyance and shake my head. *”Ive got it.”*
The worst part? Ending up in front of the guestshair a mess, apron on, no makeupwhile they all looked polished, as if they were at a garden party instead of a casual family do. I wanted to slip into a nice dress, fix my hair, sit down with a drink. But I never had the chance. I was the staff.
After these gatherings, Edward would tackle the mountain of dishes himself and order me to rest. I could see how shattered he was. His one day off a week, ruined by shrieking kids and endless chatter. All he wanted was to unwind, order a takeaway, watch a film. But he didnt want to upset his family. Neither did Iuntil his brother rang one day.
*”Were celebrating my birthday at yours, same as usual.”*
Edward hung up, turned to me, and said, *”Tomorrow, you get up, put on your best dress, do your hairmakeup if you like. Well even buy you something new. But you are not setting foot in that kitchen. Not a single toe. Understood?”*
*”But how”* I started.
*”No. They can bring their own food. Youre not a cook or a maid. We deserve a break too.”*
I nodded, silent. It felt strangebut good.
The next day, the whole family arrived, all smiles, carrying cake boxes and meat in bags. But the table was empty. They exchanged confused glanceswhere were the starters, the salads, the hostess? Edward stepped forward and said calmly, *”New rules. If you want a party, pitch in. My wife and I are tired. Shes not your servant. Either bring a dish or find somewhere else to celebrate.”*
Silence fell. They ate, but without the usual cheer. Conversations limped along. But the next time, for the first time in years, one of the sisters hosted instead.
Turns out, they were capablewhen they wanted to be.
