Youre Neither a Cook Nor a Maid: How a Husband Set an Ultimatum for His Family and Everything Changed
My husband, James, comes from a large, boisterous familythree brothers, two sisters. They all had their own homes, partners, and children, yet they always turned up at ours without fail. 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. Yours is the most convenient, theyd say. Big house, lovely garden, plenty of parking. Wed worked hard for years, saving up to buy a spacious home on the outskirts of Manchester. The moment we had a patio, a barbecue, a patch of lawn, and a driveway, the family decided it was their second home.
At first, I didnt mind. Id grown up an only child, so being part of a big family felt nice. Wed set the table, grill sausages, laugh together. But soon, it became a nightmare. Do you know how much work goes into cooking for fifteen people? And no one ever offered to help. The women would settle in the shade with a glass of wine, the men would head straight for the barbecue, and there I wasup at dawn, chopping, frying, peeling, washing. Serving plates, clearing up. Only James would poke his head in, wearing a guilty smile. Need a hand? Biting back frustration, Id shake my head. Ive got it.
The worst part? Seeing myself in the mirror before guests arrivedhair a mess, no makeup, still in an apron. Meanwhile, theyd show up looking polished, as if heading to a garden party, not a casual get-together. I wanted to slip into a nice dress, fix my hair, sip a drink. But I never had the time. I was the staff.
After these gatherings, James would tackle the mountain of dishes and order me to rest. I could see how drained he was. His one day off, wasted on shouting kids and endless chatter. All he wanted was to order a takeaway and watch a film. But he didnt want to upset his familyand neither did I. Until his brother called one day.
Were celebrating my birthday at yours, as usual.
James hung up, turned to me, and said, Tomorrow, you wake up, put on your best dress, do your hairheck, buy something new if you want. But you dont set foot in that kitchen. Not a toe. Understood?
But how I started.
No. They bring their own food. Youre not a cook or a maid. We deserve a break too.
I nodded silently. It felt strangebut good.
The next day, the whole family arrived, all smiles, carrying cake boxes and bags of meat. But the table was empty. They exchanged confused glanceswhere were the starters, the salads, the hostess? James stepped forward calmly and said, New rules. If you want a party, pitch in. My wife and I are tired. Shes not your waitress. Either everyone contributes, or you find somewhere else.
Silence fell. They ate, but the usual cheer was gone. Conversations sputtered awkwardly. And the next time? For the first time in years, one of the sisters hosted.
Turns out, they could manage just finewhen they had to.
