Dishes, cutlery, and other utensils in a dishwashing machine | Source: Flickr.com/(CC BY 2.0) by Joanna Bourne author
Prepare to get frustrated, annoyed, and even angry as you read the tale of how I got my mother to stop being overbearing to my wife. It took a major incident for me to realize I had to step up in a HUGE way. Ultimately, the lesson I taught my mom gave me a more peaceful home.
My mom has always had a penchant for control and I was kind of used to it. But can you believe this, things started to escalate DRAMATICALLY and she went overboard when she turned her attention to my pregnant wife, Sarah!
Now my Sarah is a REMARKABLE woman, handling her pregnancy with grace and patience. But, the constant critiques from my mom about her household chores were driving my poor wife crazy. They were also beginning to wear her down.
Initially, my mom’s comments were occasional observations and small remarks that Sarah brushed off. But before long, they turned into a relentless stream of nitpicking where my mother nagged my wife.
She would hover over Sarah, offering “advice” on everything she did. It began with small things, like the proper way to fold towels or arrange the pantry. But as Sarah’s pregnancy progressed, my mom’s judgments also escalated to CONSTANT criticism.
I love her with ALL my heart, but the woman had opinions on EVERYTHING! From Sarah’s diet to her choice of maternity clothes. It was unbearable! She criticized the way my wife loaded the dishwasher, folded laundry, the way she cleaned the countertops, and everything else in between!
One day, we were all sitting in the living room. My mom started criticizing the way Sarah was knitting a baby blanket. “You’re holding the needles all wrong. You’ll never finish it like that.” Sarah’s face turned red, and she put down the knitting needles.
It was exhausting to witness, and I could see that my wife was drowning in the stress it was causing. But all those instances were nothing compared to what became the absolute last straw for me.
One evening, my darling wife cooked dinner for the whole family. Then she offered to tackle the dishes. I found Sarah in the kitchen, her face flushed with frustration as she tried to load the dishwasher.
My mother was right beside her saying, “No, no, Sarah. You’re doing it all wrong. Let me show you!” Sarah’s hands clenched around the edge of the countertop. “I’m trying my best, Mom. Can you let me do it my way?” My mom shook her head vehemently:
“Your way isn’t efficient! You’ll never get the dishes clean like that!”
My desperate wife looked at me, her eyes pleading for help. I stepped in, putting an arm around her. “Mom, Sarah knows what she’s doing. She doesn’t need constant supervision.” Showing how ungrateful she was, my mother had the nerve to judge Sarah saying:
“It looks like a T-rex loaded it!”
Can you imagine that?! In the privacy of our bedroom, my wife finally broke down in tears. I held her close, feeling her sobs shake her body. “Mark, I can’t take this anymore,” she said between sobs. “I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around your mom. Nothing I do is ever good enough.”
I sighed, feeling the weight of her words. “I know, my love. I’ve talked to her, but she just brushes it off, saying she’s trying to show you the ‘right way’ of doing things. It’s not fair to you.”
“I need a break,” she said softly. “I think I should go stay with my mom for a few days.” I nodded, understanding completely. “That sounds like a good idea. Some time apart will help.”
My wife packed a small bag and the next morning I dropped her off at her mom’s place. The house felt emptier without her, but I knew she needed the space. Having to spend time away from my wife made me realize that I needed to do something.
I needed to come up with a plan to change my mom’s behavior. That’s when the idea struck me! I decided that it was time to teach her a valuable lesson in healthy boundaries and respect the only way she’d understand.
So, I took my chance when my mom decided to host a small gathering at her house. Now that she didn’t have Sarah to harass, she was retreating to her home. But I wasn’t going to let her off that easily and asked if I could stay over while my wife was gone.
My mother was always keen on showing off her perfect home and her impeccable housekeeping skills. Ahead of the special day, she meticulously loaded the dishwasher, her pride and joy, and I hatched my plan.
While distracted, I sneaked into the kitchen with a package of Oreos. Crushing the cookies into fine crumbs, I sprinkled them over the clean dishes in the dishwasher. They went all over the cups, saucers, plates, utensils, EVERYTHING!
When my mom opened the dishwasher later, she was met with a sight that left her baffled. “What on earth? I JUST cleaned these!” I feigned innocence. “Weird, maybe the dishwasher didn’t run properly.”
She was frustrated and rewashed the dishes by hand! But I wasn’t done! For several days, I repeated the process every night. Each time I ensured that she discovered dishes that looked like they’d been dragged through the dirt.
At her wit’s end, she said, “This is impossible! How are these dishes still dirty?” Continuing to act innocent I replied, “I don’t know, Mom. Perhaps your way isn’t as foolproof as you thought.”
The straw that broke the camel’s back came when she had the guests over. She proudly served them drinks in cups that, despite her efforts, had Oreo crumbs clinging to them. The look of horror on her face as she frantically tried to explain and rewash everything in front of them was PRICELESS!
After that, she stopped gloating about her dishwashing prowess. She was too preoccupied trying to figure out the mysterious source of the dirt!
One evening, I found my mom sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a plate with a contemplative look. “I don’t understand what’s happening! I’ve always done it this way!” Trying to make her get the point I stated:
“Maybe it’s time to consider that there are different ways to get things done, Mom.”
She looked at me, her expression softening. “Perhaps you’re right, Mark. I just wanted everything to be perfect for you and Sarah.” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “We appreciate that, but perfection isn’t necessary. What’s important is that we’re happy and comfortable.”
When Sarah returned, she immediately noticed the change. My mom was no longer criticizing her every move, and our home became a much more peaceful place. She stopped hovering over my wife, stopped offering unsolicited advice, and started giving her the space she needed.
The transformation was slow but noticeable. My mom even began to engage in conversations with my wife. She’d ask about her day and genuinely listened to her responses. Sarah was curious about the sudden shift in my mom’s behavior.
“What happened while I was gone?” she asked one evening as we settled in on the couch. I grinned. “Let’s just say I gave her a taste of her own medicine.” She laughed, a sound I had missed so much. “Thank you, Mark. I NEEDED this break.”
As the weeks went by, the atmosphere in the house improved significantly. My mom even began to soften. She found common ground with Sarah over baby preparations and sharing stories. It seemed my little Oreo operation had opened her eyes to the idea that different didn’t mean wrong.
One evening, as we all sat down for dinner, my mom turned to Sarah with a genuine smile. “You know, Sarah, I realize I’ve been a bit… overbearing,” she began. “I just want everything to be perfect for you and the baby,” she shared remorsefully.
“But I see now that you’re doing fine on your own. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.” Sarah reached across the table and took her mother-in-law’s hand. “Thank you, Mom. That means a lot.”
My little Oreo scheme had done more than teach my mom a lesson. It brought us closer as a family, showing us that love and patience could overcome even the most stubborn of habits. From that moment on, our home became a place that gave us all we needed as we prepared for the arrival of our little one.
When the time came for Sarah to give birth, my mom was there, supporting us every step of the way! She held her daughter-in-law’s hand during labor, offering words of encouragement and comfort. It was a far cry from the critical, overbearing woman she had been only months before!
As we welcomed our beautiful baby girl into the world, I felt a profound sense of gratitude. Not only for the new life we had brought into the world but for the journey we had all taken together. My mom’s growth, Sarah’s resilience, and the love that bound us all together.
As I held our baby girl in my arms, I knew that our home would always be a place of support, understanding, and love. So, that’s my story. Sometimes, you have to think outside the box to make a point! And sometimes, a small, petty victory can make all the difference in the world!
