**No More VisitsNot Today, Not Ever**
I spent weeks trying to figure out how to tell this story, but only two words kept coming to mind: *brass neck* and *spineless*. One belonged to my mother-in-law, the other to my husband. And caught between them? Mea woman whod bent over backwards to be kind, patient, and polite, until the day I realised silence would turn our home into nothing more than a doormat.
Ill never understand how someone can stroll into another persons house and take whatever they please, as if its their birthright. But thats precisely what my mother-in-law didall for the sake of her darling daughter, my sister-in-law.
Every visit ended with something missingroast beef from the fridge, an entire casserole dish Id just baked, and once, my barely-used curling wand vanished without a trace. Charlottes hair is so unruly, shed said with a dismissive wave. You hardly go out anyway.
I swallowed my words. Gritted my teeth. Pleaded with my husband. His response? Mums always been like thisshe doesnt mean anything by it. Well replace it.
But the last straw came just before our fifth wedding anniversary. Wed booked a posh dinner in London, our first proper date night in ages. Id bought a stunning dress and saved up for the perfect pair of heelsdesigner, £300, still tucked in their box in the wardrobe.
Then life threw a spanner in the works.
I got held up at work and asked my husband, William, to collect our daughter from playgroup. Naturally, something urgent came up, so he called his mum. Handed her our keys to fetch little Sophie and wait at ours till I returned.
When I got home, I went straight to the bedroom. My heart sank. The shoebox was gone.
William, where are my shoes? I asked, already knowing the answer.
How should I know? He shrugged.
Was your mum here?
Yeah, she picked up Sophie, stayed a bit, then left.
And the keys? My voice was eerily calm.
Gave them to her. What else could I do?
I snatched my phone and rang her. She answered immediately.
Evening, I said, crisp as frost. I think you know why Im calling.
Cant say I do, she replied, not a hint of remorse.
Where. Are. My. Shoes?
Oh, I gave them to Charlotte. Youve got more than enough, and she needed something smart for her uni ball.
*Click.* No apology. No guilt. Just gone.
William, of course, sighed. Well get you another pair, love. Dont make a scene. Shes family.
I hauled him to Selfridges, straight to the display of the exact heels Id coveted. The price made him blanch.
Eleanor, thats nearly a weeks wages! he spluttered.
You said wed replace them. So we are.
And replace them he didsigning away years of blind excuses with every pound spent.
But it wasnt over. On the drive home, his phone buzzed. A text from Mum:
Dropping by tonight. Need to clear out my freezerIll leave a few bags at yours and pick them up later.
I watched his face as he read it. The way his spine straightened. Then, for the first time ever, he called her back and said, voice like steel:
Mum, you wont be setting foot in our home. Not tonight, not next week, not ever. Your last favour cost us more than youll ever repay.
He hung up. I looked at himand for the first time in years, I saw a partner. A home where the locks stay firm against takers, but the heart stays open for those who truly belong.
**Lesson learned: Kindness isnt weakness, and a family built on respect is worth more than all the stolen trinkets in the world.**
