Oh man, you wont believe the drama with my mother-in-law. Shes absolutely furious because we refused to take in her student son.
My husband and I have been together for eleven years. We live in a two-bed flat in London that we finally paid off after years of scraping by. Were raising our eight-year-old son, and life was ticking along nicelyuntil my mother-in-law had another one of her brilliant ideas that turned everything upside down.
My husband has a younger brother, Oliver. Hes seventeen, and honestly, weve never been close. My husband hardly sees himthe age gap is huge. Plus, it drives him mad how his parents coddle Oliver, spoiling him rotten, excusing his every mistake, and never expecting anything from him.
Olivers grades are a complete disaster, barely scraping by in school. Yet every bad mark gets rewardeda new tablet, designer trainers. My husband always says, If Id failed a test, Id have been grounded for weeks, but he gets treats! And I totally agree. Weve seen Oliver refuse to even heat up his own dinner, just sitting there until his parents serve him, clear his plate, and clean up after him. Not a single thank you or see you laterjust straight back to his room. He doesnt know where his socks are, cant even make a cup of tea, and his stuff is always everywhere. His parents do everything for him. My husbands tried talking to his mum: Youre turning him into a complete liability! But she just shrugs: Hes not like you. He needs more nurturing.
Rows, grudges, weeks of silencethats how those conversations usually end. We tried to stay out of it until Oliver suddenly decided to go to uni in our city. Then things got messy.
My mother-in-law, without a hint of shame, suggested Oliver move in with us. Apparently, he wouldnt get student housingno local address, rent too high, and he wouldnt cope on his own. Youre family! Youve got a two-bedtheres room for everyone! she insisted, like it was obvious.
I tried to explain calmly: one rooms our bedroom, the others our kids. Where exactly are we supposed to put another grown adult? Then she had a *genius* idea: Just pop an extra bed in your sons room! Theyll be like brothers! As if stuffing two boys together wouldnt be a nightmare.
But thats when my husband lost it. He cut her off: Im not a babysitter, Mum! You want us to raise your baby? No. Hes *your* son*you* deal with him! At seventeen, I was living on my own, and I managed just fine!
My mother-in-law went bright red, burst into tears, called us heartless, and stormed out. That evening, my father-in-law rang to guilt-trip us: This isnt what family does! Youre abandoning your brother!
But my husband stood his ground. He said hed visit Oliver if they sorted him a place, but living with us? No way. Stop treating him like a helpless toddler. Its time he grew up.
Hes only seventeen! his dad argued.
I was seventeen when I moved out, my husband shot back. And I survived. Nobody coddled *me*. Then he hung up.
After that, my mother-in-law kept callingmy husband ignored her. Then a text arrived: You can forget about your inheritance. Honestly? If inheritance means being stuck raising a spoiled brat, no thanks. Weve already got what weve earnedour home, our family, our peace.
Everyones choices have consequences. If someone chose to spoil their kid rotten, thats on them. We dont owe anyone anything.
Lifes taught us one thing: sometimes, protecting your boundaries and your peace is the only way to keep what youve built.
