When my mother-in-law moved in during her home renovation, I thought the constant criticism of my cooking was bad enough. But when my meals started vanishing while my husband and I were at work, and she denied being the culprit, I knew I had to find a way to expose her.
A few months ago, my mother-in-law, Gwendolyn, decided to renovate her house, starting with her kitchen. She ripped out perfectly good cabinets and tore up the old linoleum floor without thinking twice.
Construction worker demolishing a kitchen for renovation | Source: Midjourney
The issue is that she didn’t bother to budget for any of this chaos. Even worse, the contractor kept finding new problems, adding expenses left and right. Additionally, some of their work required her to be away, as it was dangerous for her health.
Unfortunately, the renovation turned into a money pit quickly and her bank account was drying up faster than a puddle in the desert.
My husband, Sammy, and I sat at our kitchen table, staring at his phone as she explained this little situation. First, she detailed all the new things she was adding to her house, like a better sink. Then she revealed what she wanted from us.
Construction worker pointing at something during a renovation | Source: Midjourney
“I just can’t possibly afford a hotel while the work gets done,” Gwendolyn said, using just the perfect amount of desperation in her voice to convince Sammy. “And you know how sensitive my sinuses are. I simply can’t stay in one of those budget motels.”
Just as I expected, my husband gave me that pleading puppy-dog look he always got when his mother needed something. With a deep breath, I nodded. “Of course, Gwendolyn, you can stay with us,” I said, already regretting the words as they left my mouth.
Man in his 30s with a pleading look sitting at a kitchen table where there’s a phone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I knew I could count on my darling boy. And you too, of course, Paulina.”
After she hung up, I told Sammy I wanted to set some ground rules in writing. I wanted to protect us. Luckily, he agreed. I printed out some boundaries and stipulations for her stay and asked her to sign them.
Gwendolyn wasn’t too pleased about signing anything, but she didn’t have another option. Besides, we figured her stay would be a few weeks, tops. But, oh boy, were we wrong.
Woman holds pen while reading a paper that says “Rules” | Source: Midjourney
The weeks stretched into months, with no end to the renovation in sight. Each update from the contractor brought new delays and complications.
But that wouldn’t be a problem if Gwendolyn’s attitude wasn’t so terrible. From the moment she arrived with her four massive suitcases, it was like living with a critical, nitpicking tornado.
Nothing I did was good enough. Every meal I cooked became an opportunity for her to remind me of my apparent shortcomings, and she always managed to do it when Sammy wasn’t around.
Woman in her 30s standing in a kitchen looking upset while an older woman in the background holds dishes | Source: Midjourney
One evening, I’d spent hours making a pot roast with all the trimmings. The kitchen smelled amazing, and I’d even used my grandmother’s secret recipe. After I turned off the stove, Gwendolyn peered into the pot and wrinkled her nose.
“Oh dear,” she said, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Are you sure that’s cooked through? Poor Sammy, having to live with someone like you! How can anyone eat THIS?” She shook her head slowly. “In my day, we knew how to properly care for our husbands.”
Woman in her 50s looking down at a pot on the stove in the kitchen with disgust | Source: Midjourney
I gripped the mixing spoon so tight my knuckles turned white. “The meat thermometer says it’s perfect,” I replied through clenched teeth.
“Well, those things aren’t always reliable,” she sniffed, poking at the meat with a fork. “And really, Paulina, did you have to use so much garlic? Sammy won’t like it.”
Actually, this was one of my husband’s favorite dishes, but I let it go. It was easier. But eventually, her nagging about housework pushed me to my breaking point.
Pot roast cooking on a stove with a meat thermometer | Source: Midjourney
It happened during yet another dinner where she’d spent 20 minutes describing how her bridge club friend Martha made the same dish, only “so much more flavorful.”
“If you don’t like my cooking,” I said, setting down my fork with a small clatter, “then you’re more than welcome to buy your own groceries and make your own meals.”
I expected World War III to break out right there in our dining room. Instead, Gwendolyn dabbed her lips with her napkin and smiled. “What a wonderful idea,” she said sweetly. “I’ll start tomorrow.”
Woman in her 50s dabs napkin on mouth during dinner | Source: Midjourney
I frowned but continued eating.
For a few days, everything seemed fine. We had separate shelves in the fridge and separate cabinets for dry goods. But then things started getting weird.
I’d come home from work, exhausted and starving, only to find that the leftovers I was counting on for dinner had vanished into thin air.
The first time it happened, I thought I was losing my mind. The roast chicken I’d meal-prepped the night before was gone. Even the fruit bowl I’d filled that morning was almost empty.
Cut up fruit in a bowl in a fridge | Source: Midjourney
My husband and I were both working long hours at our jobs, so there was only one possible culprit. But every time I tried to bring it up, Gwendolyn denied eating anything.
One evening a few days later, after discovering my leftover piece of lasagna gone, I cornered her in the kitchen. “I’ve noticed that the food I cook keeps disappearing,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Do you have any explanation for that?”
Again, she had the same excuse. “You must be imagining things. You and Sammy probably just ate it and forgot,” she said, patting my hand condescendingly.
Woman in her 50s patting the hand of a woman in her 30s in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
I knew it was her and considered why she might be hiding it. Perhaps, her money issues were worse than I thought, and she was too proud to say anything.
Well, she wasn’t too proud to live with us this long while insulting everything I did, so I shook off any sympathy I felt and focused on how I could find proof of her stealing.
That’s when I remembered her allergy to nuts and lactose intolerance. As any good host, I had gotten rid of nuts and bought oat milk for the duration of her stay, but enough was enough.
view from the top, a cinematic, dramatic photograph of a 50-year-old woman’s hands patting a younger woman’s hand, background is a kitchen counter, afternoon light, vivid colors –ar 3:2
I ran a quick errand later, stopping by the grocery store on my way home.
The next morning, I got up early and made a special casserole that I knew smelled too delicious to resist.
Into it went a generous amount of real heavy cream and a healthy sprinkle of crushed cashews. Still, I wrote a big label in red marker: “DANGER! Contains nuts and dairy!” and stuck it right on top of the dish.
I also told her about it. “Don’t eat this,” I warned Gwendolyn before leaving for work. “It will make you sick!”
Woman in her 30s in work clothes in the kitchen pointing at someone like a warning | Source: Midjourney
She barely looked up from her morning paper. “For the last time, I’m not the one touching your food,” she replied with a sniff. “Remember, we agreed to keep things separate.”
I nodded, but I knew she would eat it. When I got home later that day, the scene that greeted me was hilarious, but I had to contain my amusement.
Gwendolyn stood in our kitchen, practically vibrating with rage. Her face had turned an alarming shade of red, and angry hives covered her whole body, which she kept scratching frantically.
Woman in her 50s with red hives on her face from an allergy in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
Meanwhile, I set my purse down on the counter, taking my time. “My goodness,” I said calmly. “What’s going on here?”
She whirled around, pointing a shaky finger at the half-empty casserole dish. “You!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “You tried to kill me with that food!”
“But I thought you said you didn’t eat my meals?” I asked, tilting my head slightly. “Also, I warned you. Did you even read the label?”
The look of realization that crossed her face was priceless. Her eyes widened in horror as she fumbled in her purse for her EpiPen. She quickly injected it into her thigh.
Woman in her 50s holding prescription anti-allergen medication in the living room | Source: Midjourney
A second later, Sammy walked in. As he loosened his tie, he looked from his red-faced, panicked mother to me and frowned. “What’s all the commotion?” he asked.
“Your wife,” Gwendolyn gasped out between wheezes, “tried to kill me!”
Shaking my head, I explained everything calmly. “I made a casserole with nuts and dairy. I labeled it clearly and warned her not to eat it because I know about her dietary restrictions. She still did it.”
I pointed to the label, still stuck to the container.
Container of food on top of kitchen counter that says “Danger, contains nuts and dairy” | Source: Midjourney
Before Sammy could respond, Gwendolyn let out a groan and clutched her stomach. She bolted for the bathroom, leaving us standing in the kitchen.
“I’ll sue you for this!” her voice carried through the bathroom door. “You deliberately tried to poison me!”
When she finally emerged, looking pale and disheveled, I was ready. I pulled the document she had signed months earlier from one of the kitchen drawers.
A woman in her 30s is holding a folded paper that reads “Rules” | Source: Midjourney
“I think you’ve forgotten about our first agreement, the one you signed when you came here,” I said, holding it up. “We weren’t charging you rent, but you agreed to split the utilities, and,” I paused for effect, “not to touch our food or groceries unless we were having dinner together.”
I pointed to the clause in question, which she’d initialed herself.
Woman in her 30s pointing at a piece of paper in her hands in the living room | Source: Midjourney
“At first, we shared meals because it was nice to sit together and have the same food,” I continued, raising one eyebrow at her. “But you decided you didn’t like anything I made, so this rule had to be followed.”
“But–” she blubbered, but Sammy chimed in.
“Mom, she’s right. You agreed,” he said, crossing his arms. “Paulina has been more than nice, even though you’ve been difficult. Admit it was your fault for not heeding her warning, and from now on, stop eating our food unless we specifically want to share.”
Man in his 30s with arms crossed looking disappointed in the living room | Source: Midjourney
Gwendolyn’s face turned an even brighter shade of red… this time from shame. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, but no words came out.
Then, she stomped to the spare room and stayed there until morning. Surprisingly, her house renovations magically sped up after that incident, and she was out of our house in only a week.
During that time, though, she didn’t complain at all. She barely talked to us. She made her own meals, and we even shared some dinners, where I assured her that nuts and dairy weren’t involved.
Woman in her 50s in the kitchen cutting ingredients with concentration | Source: Midjourney
One time, Gwendolyn actually complimented my chicken with caramelized onions. “This is… good,” she’d said grudgingly, grabbing another serving.
I smiled, a little proud of myself. Maybe, you are never too old to learn a good lesson.
The day she left, she surprised me with a hug and a quiet, “Thank you, Paulina. For everything.”
I smiled and told her she could visit any time. We would always be there to help. Just for the record, I wasn’t proud of what had to be done to get to that point. But you have to stand up for yourself, especially with relatives who can’t appreciate what you do for them.
Woman in her 30s on the front porch waving with a smile | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Elderly Woman Celebrates Christmas Alone after Her Children Find Out She Is a Cleaner – Story of the Day
Victoria’s children were too busy to call her most of the time, except for Christmas. But this year, her son discovered she was a cleaner at a store and stopped communicating with her altogether. Victoria thought she would have to spend the holidays alone until she heard a surprising knock on her door.
Victoria was holding a broom tightly in her hands, but she had stopped cleaning abruptly because of the man who walked into the furniture store where she worked. It was her son, Matthew, staring at her with intense wide eyes and a shocked expression. Victoria smiled and started walking towards him, but he turned around and ran out of the store.
She was surprised by his reaction. Matthew had always been a mama’s boy. But things always change as children get older, Victoria thought. She resolved to talk to him later and continued her job.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
When her husband died ten years ago, her children, Matthew and Marina, suggested selling their big house and getting her a tiny apartment, which would be easier to maintain. They wanted to use the rest of the money to start their respective businesses.
Eventually, their endeavors took off, and they got so busy they could barely contact their mother every once in a while. But the holidays were coming up, and sadly, Victoria realized that her retirement money was not enough for her to live, much less buy presents for her children and grandchildren.
So, at 65 years old, she started working as a cleaner at a furniture store at the mall. The work was not that hard, and she was still young enough to do it. With her job, she had enough money to pay her bills and had even bought all kinds of presents for everyone. However, she had not told her kids about it, afraid of how they might react.
It seemed like keeping quiet was the best option, especially after seeing how Matthew seemed embarrassed seeing her. Still, she called him to explain everything.
“I’m sorry, mother. I’m busy right now. Can I call you later?” Matthew said that night when Victoria called to explain. She worried and bit her bottom lip with her teeth.
“But, honey. About today—” she replied.
“Bye, mother,” her son said more forcefully, and the line went dead.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
She couldn’t figure out what was going on. Matthew’s reaction seemed like an exaggeration. Being a cleaner was nothing to be ashamed of, it’s honest work. Therefore, Victoria decided to call her daughter and see if she knew why her son was acting so weird.
“Mom, I’m busy. I’ll call you later,” Marina said as soon as she picked up Victoria’s call. The older woman couldn’t even get a word in.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll see them at Christmas and explain everything,” she said to herself and continued with her night.
Unfortunately, none of them had called her to settle things for the holiday. They always celebrated at one of their houses, but Victoria had no idea which of her kids was hosting the celebration this year. They hadn’t called back as they promised either, and she was starting to worry.
Two days before Christmas, she sat down with her neighbor, Lorena Atkinson, and unloaded all her worries. “I’m sure they’ll call soon enough, Vickie,” her friend said after hearing the entire story. The two sat in Victoria’s living room, eating cookies and sipping coffee.
“I don’t know. They’ve never acted this way. They are not answering my calls anymore. I don’t understand why. I’m not doing anything wrong. What if they don’t invite me for Christmas? What will I do?” Victoria asked, holding her cup a little tighter as the anxious thoughts took hold.
“Don’t worry. If they don’t invite you, you’ll come to my house. But I honestly don’t get it either. There’s nothing wrong with your job,” Lorena added, popping a cookie in her mouth.
Lorena, who was around the same age as Victoria, lived in the penthouse of Victoria’s apartment building. Her whole family gathered in her home because it had so much room, so Christmas at her house would be fun.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
But Victoria wanted to spend the holidays with her family. This situation was so hard. Why are they acting this way? Why are they icing me out? she worried, despite Lorena’s kind words.
The two women finished their coffee, and Lorena left, promising that everything would be alright and giving her friend a warm hug. Sadly, Christmas morning came, and there was still no call from Marina or Matthew. Victoria cried that entire morning. She looked at the presents under her tree and grew sad as she went to cook her breakfast.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It’s probably Lorena. I guess I’ll have to accept her invitation to Christmas dinner, Victoria thought gloomily, walking towards her door.
“Surprise!” her kids and grandkids yelled at the door. Victoria clutched her chest, startled, but smiled immediately. “What? What are you doing here?”
“We’re here to see you, Grandma! This year, we’re spending the whole Christmas day here!” Marina’s daughter, Elizabeth, yelled in excitement, walking in with a huge gift box. She was ten years old and the oldest of her grandchildren. The other four ranged between nine to five years old, and they all rushed into the apartment, going directly for the presents under her tree.
“Everyone, calm down. Let’s get settled first, and Grandma will give you your gifts,” Marina called to all the children and then focused on her mother. “Mom, hey. Sorry, we didn’t call earlier. But this was sort of unplanned.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Come in. Come in!” Victoria replied, using her hands to urge the adults inside. Marina’s husband entered behind her, and then Matthew’s wife came in, giving her a big hug.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Matthew came in last and made eye contact with his mother. Victoria looked up at her son, and tears almost welled in her eyes. Then he pulled her in for another big hug and held on for a long time.
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I… I don’t know what came over me when I saw you at that store,” he said, not letting go of his mother.
Victoria was all too happy to keep holding her son. “Were you ashamed of me?” “At first, I thought it was that. I couldn’t believe my mother was a cleaning lady. But then, after I received that call from your neighbor, I realized that I was more embarrassed with myself,” Matthew answered.
“What? My neighbor?” Victoria asked, pulling a bit away to look into her son’s eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Atkinson. She said she lives in this building. We met when you moved, and I gave her my contact information in case of emergencies,” Matthew replied.
“Anyway, she called and chewed me out for not inviting you to Christmas and for not answering your calls. Then she said I should be ashamed of myself for having a successful business and making you work hard just to live. That’s when it clicked.” “What clicked?” Victoria asked.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“I was ashamed that I never paid you back for the money from your house. I mean, you gave it to us so easily and never asked for anything. And while we now have money, an expensive car, and remodeled our house, you were struggling to pay your bills. I felt like a failure, and I couldn’t deal with it. I thought I was angry at you, but it was quite the opposite,” Matthew explained, finally letting go.
Just then, Victoria felt a hand on her back. It was Marina. “I thought I was angry at you too. For not telling us you needed money. For not telling us you were cleaning a store. But I was mad at myself. You shouldn’t have to work when the money you gave us is more than enough to keep you comfortable for the rest of your life. I can’t believe we never thought about paying you back before.”
“You don’t have to. It’s ok,” Victoria began, but Marina interrupted her gently. “We have to pay you back, especially after that chewing out from Mrs. Atkinson. She called me too. She said you worked so hard so our kids could have presents from their grandmother, and so we wouldn’t have to worry about you,” Marina continued.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Victoria smiled and made a mental note to thank Lorena for doing that. “Let’s forget about it for now, ok?” she appeased her children and turned to look at her grandkids. “It’s time for everyone to open presents!”
They spent the best Christmas as a family. It was one Victoria would never forget. Marina and Matthew eventually paid their mother back, and they started depositing more money in her account just in case.
But Victoria didn’t quit her job. She liked it. Chatting with her coworkers was fun. She officially retired at 70 years old with a pretty decent amount of money in the bank.
And her children never forgot to invite her and always answered her calls.
What can we learn from this story?
- Honest work is nothing to be ashamed of. No one should be embarrassed by their job. Working hard to earn a living is all that matters.
- Don’t forget the sacrifices your parents made for you. Marina and Matthew forgot about the money their mother gave them to start their companies. But they remembered after being scolded and made amends.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
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