“You’re Not a Cook or a Maid”: How a Husband Set an Ultimatum for His Family and Everything Changed
My husband Edward comes from a large, boisterous familythree brothers, two sisters. Theyd all long since settled into their own homes, with children and spouses. Yet, without fail, theyd turn up at ours. Not just for a quick cuppa, but for full-blown feasts. There was always an excusea birthday, a bank holiday, an anniversary. And every time, it was at our place. Because, as they put it, “Yours is so convenient, the house is big, theres a garden.” Wed worked and saved for years to buy that spacious home on the outskirts of Manchester, and the moment we had a patio, built-in barbecue, a patch of lawn, and a parking spot, the whole family decided it was now their “weekend retreat.”
At first, I didnt mind. Id grown up an only child, so being part of a big family felt nice. Wed lay the table, grill sausages, share a laugh. But soon it became unbearable. Do you know what its like to cook for fifteen people? And not once did anyone offer to help. The women would settle under the parasol with a glass of wine, the men would fiddle with the barbecue, and Id be in the kitchen at dawnchopping, frying, peeling. Serving plates, clearing them. Only Edward would pop his head in, wearing a sheepish smile: “Need a hand?” Biting back my frustration, Id shake my head: “Ive got it.”
The worst part wasnt even the work. It was facing the guestsdishevelled, apron on, no makeup. Meanwhile, theyd show up dressed to the nines, as if heading to a garden party rather than a casual get-together. I wanted to slip into a nice dress, fix my hair, sit with a drink too. But I never had the time. I was the hired help.
After these gatherings, Edward would tackle the mountain of dishes himself and order me to rest. I could see how drained he was. One day off a week, and it was wasted on shrieking kids and endless chatter. All he wanted was to unwind, order a takeaway, watch a film. But he wouldnt rock the boat with his family. Neither would I. Until 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 hairwear makeup if you fancy. Well even buy you something new. Butyou dont set foot in that kitchen. Not a 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 silently. It felt strange. But good.
The next day, the whole clan arrivedall smiles, carrying cake tins and meat in cool bags. But the table was empty. They exchanged confused glanceswhere were the starters, the salads, where was the hostess? Then Edward stepped forward and said calmly:
“New rules. If you want a party, pitch in. My wife and I are tired. Shes not your waitress. Either everyone brings a dish, or you find somewhere else.”
Silence fell. They ate, but the cheer was gone. Conversation stumbled. Yet the next time, for the first time in years, one of the sisters hosted instead.
Turns out, they were capable. When they had to be.
