I Refuse to Keep Cooking for My Husband’s Family Every Sunday
I’m 26, my husband is 27, and we’ve been married for two years.
A few months ago, we finally moved into our own place—a big, beautiful house. But here’s the catch: my in-laws loaned us 80% of the money to buy it.
Since then, Sundays have turned into a nightmare. Every week, his entire family of eight shows up for lunch. They act like it’s their weekend retreat. I spend hours cooking, serving, and scrubbing the dishes afterward. Not once has anyone so much as offered to help me in the kitchen.
Last week, I told my husband I was done. His reply? “They gave us this house. This is your way of saying thank you.”
I was stunned.
So, this Sunday, I smiled, welcomed them in, and even cooked their favorite meal. But what they didn’t know was that I had something else planned.
After lunch, I stood up and announced, “The kitchen’s a disaster, and since this feels like your house, cleaning it is up to you.”
When they walked in, they froze. The counters were buried in smashed plates, spilled rice, torn bags of flour, and cans tipped over everywhere. Red sauce splattered across the walls. It looked like chaos had exploded in the room.
I grabbed my bag, turned to my husband, and told him I needed space. Then I walked out.
Later that night, he called me furious. He said I had humiliated him in front of his family and crossed the line.
But here’s the thing—I didn’t know how else to get through to him. Was I wrong to stage it this way, or was this the only way he would finally understand?