When my mother-in-law, Linda, moved in temporarily, she proudly declared she wouldn’t lift a finger because she was a “guest.” Instead of arguing or asking her to leave, I came up with a creative way to redefine what being a “guest” truly meant—one that ultimately helped restore peace in our home.
It all started when my husband, Jason, told me his mom had sold her condo and needed a place to stay for a few weeks.
“She just needs time to figure out her next step,” he said casually.
I was hesitant. Linda and I had always had a bit of tension—she had once critiqued everything from my cooking to how I folded towels. But I agreed, hoping it would be temporary and manageable.
She arrived with multiple suitcases, an impressive number of houseplants, and… let’s just say, a very relaxed attitude about household responsibilities.
At first, I tried to be optimistic. But after just a few days, it became clear: Linda had no intention of tidying up after herself. She left dishes in the sink, smudged the bathroom mirror with makeup, and even tossed her laundry in with mine—without asking.
When I politely asked her to help out with small tasks, she would smile and say, “Oh honey, I’m a guest! You don’t ask guests to do chores.”
I was trying my best to be respectful, but I also help pay the mortgage—and I didn’t think it was fair to take on a full-time host role without support.
Jason, meanwhile, said, “She’s my mom—let her be comfortable.” So, I did.
But I also decided to *lean in* to the guest role she’d claimed—with a few creative household adjustments.
The next morning, Linda woke up to find a printed breakfast menu on her nightstand titled **“Welcome to the Family B\&B!”** It offered simple options like cereal, toast, or a surprise leftover dish. She came to the kitchen looking puzzled.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“A little something to make your stay easier!” I replied with a smile.
When she asked for her usual omelet, I explained that upgraded breakfasts weren’t included in the standard guest package. She went with cereal.
Later that week, I introduced “quiet hours” and gently reminded her when I turned off the Wi-Fi at 11 p.m. “It’s part of our household security protocol,” I explained cheerfully.
I also began placing lighthearted laminated signs around the house:
* “Housekeeping in Progress – Please Enjoy Your Stay”
* “Complimentary Towels Available Upon Request”
Each sign matched a task I normally did—laundry, dishes, bathroom cleanup—reminding everyone just how much invisible labor goes into a shared space.
By Thursday, I stopped cooking dinner altogether and instead left a stack of local takeout menus in Linda’s room. When she asked what was for dinner, I said, “I figured you’d want to choose! Guests should enjoy variety.”
And on Sunday, I left a playful envelope on her dresser labeled **“Your Guest Stay Summary.”** Inside was a lighthearted “invoice” listing mock service charges:
* Laundry Service – \$50
* Housekeeping – \$30
* Breakfast Supplies – \$20
* Hospitality Fee – \$15
At the bottom, I wrote: *“Thank you for staying at the Family B\&B! We hope you enjoyed your visit.”*
Linda was surprised—understandably—but the message had been delivered with kindness and humor. She brought it up to Jason, who for the first time really saw how one-sided the situation had become.
A few days later, Jason gently suggested that it might be time for her to look into her next housing option. She agreed.
Within a week, Linda found a lovely new place of her own. We helped her move in, and since then, our relationship has been much smoother—with clearly defined boundaries and mutual respect.
Back at home, I sat down with my favorite coffee, enjoying the peaceful return of our clean, quiet living space. Jason even admitted, “You handled that better than I ever could’ve.”
Sometimes, a little creativity and grace go a long way. Instead of confrontation, a playful shift in perspective helped us all find a better balance—and maybe even a little humor along the way.
