My son has turned into a total slob, and his girlfriend is his exact mirror. Im exhausted from living in their mess.
I never imagined Id say it out loud, but Ive had enough. Enough of the dirty dishes, the floor that hasnt seen a broom in weeks, the lingering smell of leftover food, and the feeling of staying with careless housemates instead of in my own flat. All of this because of my son and his sweetheart, who have been crashing here like on holiday for the past two months.
Louis is twenty. He studies for a remote bachelors degree, just finished his military service, and immediately landed a job. An adult on paperselfsufficient, contributing to the bills, not idling away his days. I was proud of him. Until that infamous conversation.
Mom, he told me one day, Mathildes situation at home is awful. Her parents are always fighting, she cant even study in peace. Can she stay here for a while until things calm down? We wont cause any trouble.
I felt sorry for her. Id already seen her onceshy, polite, eyes down, soft voice. How could I say no? Louis has his own room, theres space. I just didnt expect the gift that would follow.
At first they tried: dishes put away, floor swept, no noise. We even set up a cleaning scheduleSaturday was theirs, Wednesday mine. I thought maybe they had finally matured. But three weeks later everything fell apart.
Dirty plates with dried food lingered in the sink for days, hair and wrappers littered the floor. The bathroom? Shampoo streaks, hair 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 her phone in hand, as if she were at a spa, not in my home.
I tried talking, asking, reminding. The answer was always the same: We havent had time, well do it later. Except later never came. So I started handing them the mop and cleaning products directlyno blame, just silently. That didnt change anything. Once they spilled sauce on the tablecloth and left it untouched. I ended up cleaning it all myself.
When I stepped into their room and saw the chaos, I couldnt stay silent:
Dont you mind living like this?
Louis, without flinching, replied:
Geniuses thrive in chaos.
I see no genius in that chaosjust two adults who find it convenient to live like pigs while leaning on their mother.
Louis promised to helpgroceries, bills. In reality, he only pays the utilities. He does the shopping once a week, but the sushi, pizza, and other deliveries come almost daily. They give me gifts, but they dont warm my heartthe fridge stays empty. With that money, we could feed the whole family.
Mathilde doesnt work; shes a student with a scholarship. She never contributes a cent to groceries or cleaning; everything goes toward her frivolities. When I suggested a slight adjustment to the expenses, she shrugged, offended.
I raised Louis on my own. His father left before he was born. My parents helped, I worked double, saved, did everything for him. I never blamed him, and I dont want to start now. Yet watching my apartment turn into a dump is unbearable.
Ive tried calm conversationsonce, twice, three times The result is clear: they wont change. They think Im an old nag and that I should be grateful they tolerate me under the same roof.
Two months I held on. Thats enough. Ill tell them plainly: either pull yourselves together, or move to student housing. Maybe there theyll learn what it means to respect others work and space.
Im fed up being their cleaner. I want to live peacefully again, without stress, without 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?
