When Helping Family Turned Into a Nightmare
When my in-laws’ basement apartment flooded, I didn’t think twice before inviting them to stay with us. My wife, Kelly, was hesitant. “Are you sure? My family can be… a lot,” she warned. But I wanted to help. “It’s just for a little while,” I said confidently.
At first, things seemed manageable. Her parents, Susan and Stan, arrived with bags, coolers, and an entire box of essential oils. Kelly’s siblings, Andrea and Josh, took over the guest rooms. Within a few days, though, our home no longer felt like ours.
Susan reorganized our kitchen without asking, Stan raided the fridge daily, and Andrea drained our almond milk and honey making smoothies. Josh made sandwiches with truffle cheese and ketchup—and hosted his friends to play on my PS5.
Then it got worse. Andrea began napping in our bed. Josh started using our private bathroom. Susan dressed our cats in costumes “for Instagram.” Even Stan began walking around in nothing but boxers. It felt like we were living in someone else’s house. I begged Kelly to talk to them, but she didn’t want to upset her family. Every day felt like a test of patience—and our marriage.