My FIL, Jeff, seemed lost without his wife, so my husband and I invited him to stay.
At first, everything was fine — I cooked for everyone, and he settled in.
But soon, his attitude changed.
He began treating me like a maid, asking for cookies, milk, or water, each hour even when I was near the kitchen.
I obliged at first, thinking he was adjusting, but his demands escalated.
One day, Jeff handed me his laundry and said, “These need to be done by tomorrow.
I need them for golf.”
The breaking point came during a poker night with his friends.
He kept asking me to serve drinks and snacks, and soon his friends started treating me the same way.
As they left, I overheard him tell my husband, “SEE?
THAT’S HOW YOU SHOULD TREAT A WOMAN.”
That comment hit hard.
It reminded me of how he treated my MIL — always making her cater to his needs.
I realized I was falling into the same trap.
But one evening, I was in the middle of preparing dinner when Brian strolled into the kitchen.
“Don’t forget I need my blue shirt ironed for tomorrow,” he said, planting a kiss on my cheek like it would soften the demand.
“No, Brian,” I said, my voice firm.
“I’ve taken it seriously enough.
You both need to understand—this stops now.
I am not your maid, and I am not his either.”
The tension in the room was thick.
I could see Brian’s stunned face as I walked out, determined that things were about to change—for good.
The very next morning, after a sleepless night of strategizing, I began typing out a “rental agreement.” I wasn’t going to charge Jeff rent, but I wanted clear, no-nonsense rules.
If he was going to stay under our roof, things were going to change.
– I cook one meal for everyone every day.
If someone wants something else, they can cook it themselves.
– If you’re physically capable of doing something, you do it yourself—this includes fetching drinks, laundry, and cleaning up after meals.
– Everyone cleans up after themselves.
Dishes go in the dishwasher, not the sink.
The laundry will be folded and put away by the person who wore it.
– If you invite guests over, you’re responsible for hosting them, including food, drinks, and cleanup.
– No sexist comments or behavior — this house operates on mutual respect, period.
– Contributions to household chores are expected, not optional.
You live here; you pitch in.
I printed it out, and waited until Jeff came into the kitchen.
He looked startled to see me sitting there with a hard copy of the rules in front of me.
“Morning, we need to talk.”, I said.
Jeff scanned the first page.
“It’s a rental agreement for staying in this house,” I said evenly.
“These are the rules moving forward.”
Frank’s face turning red.
“Rules?
What is this, the army?
I’m your guest!
”
“You’re not a guest anymore.
You’ve been here for weeks.
You’re family, which means you’re not entitled to sit back while everyone else waits on you.
This is how it’s going to work if you’re staying here.”, I said sharply.
Brian walked in midway through the exchange.
“Your wife is trying to turn this house into a dictatorship,” Jeff said, slapping the paper onto the table.
Brian skimmed the agreement.
“Uh, isn’t this a bit… much?” he said, hesitating.
“What’s much is your father treating me like I’m his maid?
And lately, you’ve started doing the same.
That stops today.”, I said, meeting his eyes.
Jeff looked like he was ready to explode, and Brian seemed torn.
But I held my ground.
“You can either follow the rules,” I said, standing up, “or find somewhere else to stay.”
Jeff opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, realizing I wasn’t bluffing.
For the first time in weeks, I felt in control.
When my mother-in-law, Sarah, finally came home from the hospital, I was nervous because I had no idea how she’d react to what I’d done.
As she settled on the couch, I began, choosing my words carefully, “I need you to see this.
It’s something I worked on while Jeff was staying here.”
By the time she got to Rule 5, she glanced up at me with a knowing smile.
“Oh, I like this one,” she said.
“Mutual respect.
Novel concept for him.”
I exhaled, grateful she didn’t seem offended.
“I know you care deeply about him,” I said, sitting beside her.
“But Sarah, he’s been relying on you for far too long.
It’s not fair to you.
And while he was here… well, let’s just say I realized how much you’ve been carrying all these years.”
And for a moment, I saw a flicker of exhaustion.
“You’re right,” she said quietly.
“It’s been like this since the day we got married.
I just… I thought it was my job.”
“No,” I said firmly, taking her hand.
“It’s time for him to step up.
Not just for your sake, but for his.
Sarah chuckled, “I wish I’d done this years ago.”
When Jeff came into the room, Sarah waved the paper in the air.
“You’ve got work to do, mister,” she said.
As they walked into the kitchen together, I couldn’t help but smile.
For the first time, it felt like Sarah wasn’t carrying the entire load alone.
“Hey,” Brian said, coming up behind me.
“You really think he’ll stick to it?”
I turned, watching Sarah guide Frank to the sink where she handed him a dish towel.
For the first time, he didn’t argue — he just started drying.
I smiled, my voice steady.
“He doesn’t have a choice.
Because this time, we’re all playing by the rules.”
