My mother-in-law scolded me for being a housewife and not working – After my lesson, she ran away in tears and never brought up the subject again

My mother-in-law Paula believed without a doubt that husbands and wives should bring home the same salary. For her, money was more important than family and children. She called me a “housewife without a job”, as if taking care of three children under five was a vacation and the work I did was not worth a cent. Then my nightmare began…

It all started on a random Tuesday morning. I was in the kitchen, trying to make breakfast for my twins while my daughter was squirming in her seat. The doorbell rang and I felt my stomach drop.

I knew who it was even before I opened the door.

It was Paula, my mother-in-law, with that familiar look of disapproval on her face. She came in without waiting for an invitation, her eyes scanning the mess of toys on the living room floor.

“Are you still living like this, Macy?” he snapped. “How long are you going to sit back, living off my son like a PARASITE?”

I bit my tongue, forcing a smile. “Good morning to you too, Paula. Would you like some coffee?”

She ignored my question and headed to the kitchen. “You call this life? No job, pretending to be a housewife? PATHETIC!”

His words stung, but I had learned to let them pass.

“I could stay with the kids and you could get a real job,” she added, looking at the pile of dishes in the sink.

I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles white. “Jerry and I have talked about it, Paula. We both think it’s best for our family if I stay home with the kids for now.”

He scoffed, “Best for the family? Or best for you to avoid real work?”

Before I could respond, my daughter started to moan. When I turned to attend to her, Paula murmured, “At least you’re good for something!”

That night, as Jerry and I lay in bed, I couldn’t get Paula’s words out of my head.

“Honey,” I said, turning to him, “does it bother you that I don’t work outside the home?”

Jerry propped himself up on one elbow, frowning. “What’s this about, Mace?”

I sighed, playing with a loose thread on the comforter. “It’s just… I feel like I’m living off of you.”

Jerry’s face darkened. “What? Macy, you know that’s not true. We agreed to this together, remember?”

I nodded, but doubt had already taken root. “I know, but sometimes I wonder if I should do more.”

Jerry pulled me in and kissed the back of my neck. “You’re raising our kids, Mace. It’s the most important job in the world. Don’t let your self-doubt make you feel less.”

His words comforted me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had to change.

I didn’t tell Jerry that it was his mother who had planted those seeds of doubt in my heart. I wanted peace and quiet in our home, not war.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of dirty diapers, tantrums, and increasingly frequent visits from Paula. Each time she came, her comments were more pointed, more hurtful.

The doorbell rang just as I finished mopping the floor. There stood Paula, her coat soaked with rain. She entered without a word, leaving a trail of muddy footprints on my clean tiles.

“Paula, there’s a mat and some slippers by the door.”

He turned and narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying I don’t know how to enter a house well?”

I bit my lip, pointing at the mud. “I just cleaned it up…”

“Oh, you cleaned? Isn’t that what you do all day while my son is at work? Or is that too much effort for you?”

Her words hit me like a slap in the face. I stood there, mop still in hand, as she continued into the house, leaving me to deal with the mess, both on the floor and in my heart.

“Still in your pajamas at two in the afternoon, girl?” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “When I was your age, I had already worked all day.”

“Paula, I’ve been up since five in the morning with a sick baby. These aren’t pajamas, they’re comfortable clothes to wear at home.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Excuses, excuses. You know, when Jerry was a kid, he worked full-time and still managed to keep the house spotless. But I guess some people just aren’t cut out for real work. You’re an idle donkey.”

That was the last straw. And something inside me snapped.

“You want to see some real work, Paula? Fine. Do you think you can do better? Let’s see.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re so sure you can do it all, aren’t you? Well, here’s your chance. For the next week, you’ll be taking over. Everything. The kids, the house, everything. I’ll find a job at the clinic, like you’ve always wanted. You’re right. I shouldn’t have left my high-paying job as a psychologist to take care of this house and the kids and be THIS… this ‘idle bitch’ who does NOTHING around the house.”

Paula’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I… that’s not what I meant…”

“No, that’s exactly what you meant. You’ll see how easy my life is. And you’ll save your precious son all the money he wastes on his ‘parasitic’ wife.”

For a moment, Paula looked unsure. Then she regained her usual smugness. “Okay. I’ll show you how a real woman runs a household.”

As she turned to leave, I called out to her, “Come over tomorrow at 6 o’clock. That’s when the twins usually wake up.”

The door slammed shut behind her and I sank to the floor, surrounded by clothes hanging out to dry and a jumble of emotions. What had I just done?

The next morning I was up at 5.30, getting ready to head out to my new temporary job at a local nursery. A friend had helped me secure the position at short notice.

Paula arrived at 6:05, a little exhausted. “I ran into traffic,” she muttered.

I handed her a detailed schedule and a list of the children’s allergies and preferences. “The twins will be up any minute. Billy is allergic to peanuts, so be very careful. Little Kelly will need a bottle in an hour.”

“I’ve raised a kid before, Macy. I can do this,” Paula smiled.

As I grabbed my bag to leave, I heard the twins start to stir. “Good luck!” I said, unable to keep a hint of satisfaction from creeping into my voice.

That week was a whirlwind. Even though I was exhausted from my new job, coming home each day to an increasingly chaotic house was strangely satisfying. Paula looked more haggard each night when I returned.

On Friday, he cornered me as soon as I walked in the door. “This is ridiculous,” he hissed. “If I’m going to keep doing this, I need to be compensated. $300 a week should do it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Make it up to you? But Paula, I thought this was just sitting around doing NOTHING all day. Why would you need money for that?”

Her face flushed. “You know very well that this is hard work! The cleaning, the cooking, the changing diapers, the constant demands… it’s exhausting!”

“Welcome to my world, Paula darling! Now you know what I do every day, for FREE! Two days left, darling.”

Paula just shrugged.

The next day, I returned to my usual routine at daycare, feeling strangely refreshed despite the chaos of the past week.

While I was preparing dinner for the kids, my phone rang. It was Paula, who sounded horrified.

“Macy, can you come here quickly? There… there was a little accident with Billy…”

“What? Paula, what happened to my son?”

Before she could respond, there was a soft crash from the kitchen, followed by Billy’s panicked cry, “Grandma! I can’t breathe!”

My heart stopped.

“Paula, what happened?” I shouted.

“Peanut butter. I… I must have confused the twins. I thought it was Jimmy…”

“Oh my God! Paula, what have you done? I told you that Billy is allergic to peanuts. Did you call an ambulance? I’m on my way.”

“I’ve done it.”

I could hear Paula sobbing in the background. I quickly hung up and ran to my car, desperately asking a colleague to take over while I raced home.

The next few hours were a blur of sirens, hospital rooms, and frantic calls to Jerry. Luckily, my neighbor had seen the commotion at my house and, without wasting any time waiting for the ambulance, rushed my son to the hospital.

Later that night, back at home in Billy’s room, the weight of what had happened settled on us. Jerry, fresh from his business trip, was pacing back and forth, his face a cloud of worry and anger.

“How could that happen?” she asked, turning to her mother. “Macy said she told you about Billy’s allergy. Several times.”

Paula slumped in her chair, her face streaked with tears. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could handle it. I was trying to prove…”

“Prove what?” Jerry interrupted. “That you know more than Macy? That being a housewife isn’t a real job? How could you criticize my wife behind my back? What made you think I didn’t do anything around the house when I was trying my best to take care of the whole house?”

I put a hand on Jerry’s arm, trying to calm him down. “Jerry, it was an accident. A terrible one, but…”

“No, Macy. This is over now. Mom, I think it’s best if you go home. And… I think you should get away for a while.”

Paula stood up, her legs shaking. She looked at me, her eyes full of remorse.

As I ran out of the room in tears, I turned to Jerry, burying my face in his chest. The emotions of the past week, the fear of almost losing our son, it was all coming pouring out.

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“I just wanted him to understand,” I sobbed. “I never wanted anyone to get hurt.”

Jerry hugged me tightly, his voice soft but firm. “This isn’t your fault, Mace. You’ve put up with his criticism for years. It’s time for him to learn to respect you and the decisions we’ve made for our family.”

As we stood there, watching our son sleep peacefully, I realized something important: Being a stay-at-home mom wasn’t just a job; it was a calling. One that required patience, love, and a strength I didn’t know I possessed until I was put to the test.

Paula’s hard lesson had come at a high price, but when I looked at my family, I knew without a doubt that I was exactly where I needed to be.

Well, ladies and parents, this has been my roller coaster experience. Have you had a similar experience with critical in-laws? How did you handle it and what was the outcome? Leave your stories in the comments.

Here’s another story : My heart broke when my daughter-in-law threw away the birthday cake I made for my granddaughter. But my son’s reaction shook me even more.

This work is inspired by real people and events, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher do not guarantee the accuracy of events or the depiction of characters, and are not responsible for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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