My Evil MIL Moved in with Us and Made My Life Crazy - It Took Only One Call to Teach Her a Lesson

Daphne's life turns into a mess when her mother-in-law, Helen, moves in and begins taking over the house, criticizing every detail. Helen's constant meddling and harsh comments drive Daphne to her breaking point. Determined to teach the older woman a lesson, Daphne makes a surprising phone call that changes everything.

"Daphne, I can't believe you left the dishes in the sink again. Poor John has to live in this mess."

I looked up from my book, biting back a sigh.

Helen stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, looking around the living room with obvious disapproval.

"I'm doing my best, Helen," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll do the dishes in a while. I was really tired this morning."

Helen sighed dramatically. "We all have our struggles, but back in my day, we didn't let the house fall apart. We managed just fine, no matter what."

I clenched my teeth and forced a smile.

Helen had been living with us for two weeks due to renovations at her place. She acted like she owned the house, often rearranging the furniture and criticizing my housekeeping. It was driving me up the wall.

As Helen walked over to the window, she muttered about the smudges on the glass.

I watched her wipe an imaginary speck of dust from the windowsill.

She had a knack for finding flaws in everything I did.

It seemed like every time she entered a room, she found something to complain about.

John was at work, which meant I was left to deal with his mother alone.

I glanced at the clock, hoping it was close to lunchtime. Maybe then Helen would settle down for a bit. But no, it was still only mid-morning.

"Helen, would you like some tea?" I offered, hoping to distract her.

She shook her head, her eyes still scanning the room for imperfections. "No, thank you. But I do think these cushions could use a bit of straightening."

She walked over and began rearranging the cushions on the couch right next to me.

I gripped my book tighter, feeling my frustration build.

Helen moved to the mantel next, picking up a family photo and examining it closely.

"And this picture is slightly crooked," she added, adjusting it by a fraction of an inch.

I closed my book, knowing I wouldn't be able to concentrate with her hovering around.

"Helen, why don't you take a break? You've been on your feet all morning," I suggested, trying to sound kind.

She shook her head. "Oh, I'm fine, dear. Just trying to keep the house in order."

And she didn't stop there.

That afternoon, I was in the kitchen serving lunch to my children when she stormed in, waving Jack's math test.

"Look at this! Your son got a B on his math test. A B! How could you let this happen, Daphne? You're a terrible mother."

Jack, who was happily eating lunch, stopped.

My heart sank at the distress on my little boy's face.

"Helen, that's enough. Jack's here," I hissed. "Besides that, he is doing good in school, and a B is not the end of the world!"

Helen huffed, crossing her arms. "In my house, a B would be unacceptable. You're failing them, Daphne."

"And you," she added, turning to Jack. "You need to study harder, young man. In my day, we didn't settle for anything less than an A."

My hands shook as I put the ladle down. Helen had been relentless since she moved in, constantly criticizing everything I did.

But this… this was too much to bear.

"Helen, give that poor girl a break," my father-in-law said, entering the kitchen. "She's doing a fine job with the kids."

Helen turned to him, her eyes blazing. "Stay out of this, Richard. You don't understand. These children need discipline, and Daphne isn't providing it."

Richard sighed but didn't press further, retreating to the living room. I appreciated his attempt to defend me, but Helen's stubbornness was unyielding.

"Kids, why don't you go play in the living room for a bit?" I suggested.

Lily and Jack hesitated but then nodded, leaving the kitchen quietly. Once they were gone, I faced Helen.

"I'm doing my best to keep this family together, Helen. And your constant criticism isn't helping," I said.

Helen sniffed and waved a hand dismissively. "You just need to try harder. Maybe then John wouldn't get sick from your cooking," she said and walked away.

My mouth opened, but no reply came out. I couldn't believe she was being this harsh with me. Enough was enough, I decided. It was high time Helen got a taste of her own medicine.

That evening, I sat on my bed, tears streaming down my face after the kitchen ordeal.

The address book lay open in my lap, and I stared at the name, Mrs. Anderson.

I remembered John and my wedding day and how nervous Helen was around her own mother-in-law.

I dialed John's number, my hands shaking. As soon as he answered, I told him about my plan.

"But are you sure about this, Daphne? It could backfire."

"It's worth a shot," I said. "She needs to understand what she's putting me through."

John sighed. "Alright, I trust you. Just be careful. I'm so sorry you have to go through this. Maybe I can talk to Mom?"

"Don't you recall what happened when we tried telling her last week? We have no choice, honey. Her taunting me was fine, but Jack looked so sad today. I can't let her do this to the kids."

"Alright, love. I'll try to be home early today. Take care."

"Thank you, John," I said and hung up.

I was confident my plan would work. Helen needed to see what it felt like to be constantly criticized and undermined. And if anyone could handle her, it was Mrs. Anderson. I called her and invited her over.

The next morning, I watched as Helen received a call from Mrs. Anderson. Her face turned pale, and she immediately began cleaning the house frantically, muttering under her breath.

"Mrs. Anderson is coming over! The house is a mess!" she exclaimed, grabbing a dust cloth.

"Oh god, Helen, take a deep breath. We can tidy up together," I said, trying my best to contain my laugh.

"No, no. I need everything to be perfect. She can't see this mess," Helen insisted, moving to the next room. I saw how she cleaned every window and dusted every piece of furniture.

"Mrs. Anderson is very particular. She'll notice every little thing," she muttered as she moved to clean the kitchen.

But that wasn't the best part.

When Mrs. Anderson arrived, she wasted no time. She walked through the door, her sharp eyes scanning every corner of the living room.

"Helen, this place is a disaster. Have you forgotten how to keep a house?" she commented harshly.

Helen's face turned pale. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Anderson. I've been trying my best," she said, her voice shaky.

But Mrs. Anderson wasn't satisfied.

She moved to the kitchen, pointing out every flaw. "Look at these dishes in the sink. And the dust on the shelves! Have you been slacking off, Helen?"

Helen followed her, wringing her hands. "No, Mrs. Anderson. I've been doing everything I can."

Mrs. Anderson turned to her sharply. "I can see that's not the case. If you're not doing your job properly, how can you expect Daphne to? Juniors learn from their seniors, Helen. Your standards have clearly dropped."

She moved back into the living room, her eyes narrowing at the furniture.

"And this furniture," she continued. "Why is it rearranged like this? It's completely impractical."

Helen tried to explain, but Mrs. Anderson cut her off. "No excuses, Helen. You should know better. You've let things slide, and it shows."

I stood in the corner, watching Helen's reaction.

She looked utterly defeated, her usual confidence gone. It was strange to see her like this. Part of me felt sorry for her, but another part of me felt a sense of justice.

However, something clicked inside me as I stood there longer and watched Mrs. Anderson critique Helen.

The way Mrs. Anderson spoke to Helen reminded me of how Helen treated me. I realized I was doing the same thing she did to me, and that was wrong.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Mrs. Anderson, with all due respect, everything in this house is spotless," I said, and the two women turned to look at me.

"Yes," I continued. "Helen has done an excellent job. And she tried her best to make everything perfect for you."

Mrs. Anderson stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "Excuse me? Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"I'm saying that Helen deserves some credit," I said politely. "She's been working hard to keep this house in order, and I think she's done an amazing job."

Helen looked at me, shocked. She wasn't expecting me to defend her.

Mrs. Anderson huffed and puffed but eventually left, grumbling about the younger generation's lack of respect.

Helen turned to me, her eyes wide. "Thank you. I never thought I'd hear someone stand up to her like that. Why-why did you help me?"

"I did it because I realized something," I said. "The way you've been treating me is how she treated you. It's a cycle that needs to stop."

Helen looked down, her expression softening. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize..."

"Let's start fresh, Helen," I said, offering her a smile. "We can do better."

Helen nodded, and for the first time, I saw a genuine smile on her face. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to me. We had reached a turning point, and there was hope for a more respectful relationship.

Have you ever faced a similar situation?

If you enjoyed this story, here's another one: Kayla discovers a doll that looks eerily like her in her mother-in-law's house and assumes it's just a coincidence. But when she shows it to her husband, his panicked reaction leaves her shocked, revealing a family secret Kayla never could've guessed.

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

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided "as is," and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.