I never thought I’d become my mother-in-law’s maid, but somehow, that’s exactly what happened.
When Jason told me his mom, Linda, had sold her condo and needed a place to stay “for a little while,” I was wary. The last time we spent more than a weekend together, she had something to say about everything—from how I cooked to how I folded towels.
“How long is ‘a little while’?” I asked.
“Couple of weeks? Maybe a month,” Jason guessed.
Of course, he promised we’d have ground rules. Of course, that didn’t happen.
Linda arrived with three suitcases, a jungle of houseplants, and no intention of being helpful.
At first, I tried to be positive. She unpacked, took over the kitchen with fancy teas she never drank, and made backhanded comments about “young people and their microwaves.”
But by week two, it was clear Linda didn’t see herself as temporary—just exempt from chores. She left dishes on the table, smudged the bathroom mirror with makeup, and tossed her laundry into my hamper like I was a hotel employee.
“Hey, Linda, could you toss your towel in the hamper?” I asked once.
She smiled sweetly. “Oh, honey, I’m just a guest!” A guest. In my home.
Jason? Utterly useless. “She’s my mom, babe. Let her be comfortable.”
And comfortable she was—while I ran around cleaning up after her.
Then came the final straw. One Saturday morning, I shuffled into the kitchen for my one little luxury—my expensive coffee, just for me—only to find Linda sipping the last cup from my favorite mug. Dishes everywhere. Crumbs on the counter.
I asked, as politely as I could, “Would you mind helping with the dishes today?”
She didn’t even look up. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure you’ll get to it.”
Something inside me snapped. But instead of yelling, I smiled. If she wanted to be treated like a guest, then I would give her the full guest experience.
The next morning, Linda found a printed menu on her nightstand:
“Welcome to the Family B&B
Cereal & Milk
Toast & Butter
Chef’s Surprise (leftovers)”
She blinked at it. “What’s this?”
“Just thought you shouldn’t have to cook, since you’re a guest,” I said cheerfully.
She grumbled but picked the cereal. One small win.
That night, I shut off the WiFi at 11 p.m.—Linda’s prime YouTube and Facebook time.
Five minutes later: “Emma! The internet’s down!”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “Our new security system shuts it down overnight. Reduces cyber threats.”
She called it “ridiculous” and stomped back to her room.
By Wednesday, I added laminated “Housekeeping in Progress” signs after cleaning her messes—on the bathroom mirror, on the couch, in the kitchen.
“What’s with these signs?” she snapped.
“Just reminding you how hard housekeeping works to serve our guests,” I beamed.
On Thursday, I stopped cooking dinner. Instead, I left takeout menus in her room.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked.
“Oh, I figured guests might want to pick what they like! Pizza? Chinese?”
She pouted. I smiled.
Then came Sunday. On her dresser was a neatly written invoice:
- Laundry Service: $50
- Maid Service: $30
- Breakfast & Coffee Fee: $20
- Hotel Convenience Charge: $15
At the bottom:
Thank you for staying at the Family B&B! Please settle your balance by the end of your stay.
She stormed into the kitchen, fuming. “What is THIS?!”
I sipped my coffee. “Oh, just a bill. Standard guest fees.”
“I’m not paying to stay in my own son’s house!”
“I thought you were a guest, Linda. Guests don’t stay for free.”
Jason wandered in, confused. “Is this real?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Just following her logic. Guests don’t clean—they pay.”
Linda was speechless. Then she turned to Jason, furious. “Your wife is charging me rent!”
Jason blinked. “Mom… maybe it’s time you found somewhere else to stay.”
She gasped. “I guess I’ll just go, then!”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said.
Within a week, she was gone. No more dishes in the sink. No more passive-aggressive sighs. No more towels on the couch.
Jason finally admitted, “Okay… maybe you had a point.”
I kicked my feet up on my clean couch, sipped my fancy coffee, and savored the peace.
Linda may have refused to clean, but in the end? She cleaned herself right out the door.