“My love, they’re just having fun. You know how kids are,” my husband said, shrugging his shoulders as if the chaos was merely a natural disaster we had to endure. My mother-in-law chuckled, not at all concerned about the state of our living room. The kids were now using the cushions of the couch as a makeshift trampoline, and I felt my blood pressure rising with each loud thud.
It was the same story every time they visited. My in-laws had this uncanny ability to transform our serene home into a chaotic playground within moments of their arrival. Initially, I tried to be the gracious host, hoping that my politeness would hint at the unspoken need for boundaries. But as time went on and their visits became even more frequent and intrusive, my patience wore thin.
