My MIL Comes over Whenever She Wants and Makes My Son Cry, So I Taught Her a Lesson

My husband Frank and I share a 6-month-old boy named Victor. We're new to the whole parenting thing, so there have been a few hiccups here and there, but for the most part, I feel like we've been doing a great job. The only thing I still struggle with is getting Vic to go to sleep. He wakes up during the night and I have to work hard to get him to take naps during the day.

While Vic has been having some trouble with sleep, I've been dealing with it by playing with him until he finally gets sleepy during the day, and then putting him down for a nap. But he's a light sleeper, and a recent unwanted visitor hasn't been helping the situation at all.

You see, a few months ago my mother-in-law, Sally, moved into the house right next to us. We had no say in the move, and it didn't happen during Vic's first few months, so initially, I thought it wouldn't be an issue. It was also good for Frank to have some family close by. But Sally took living next to us as an open invitation to visit us whenever she wanted.

Since Vic is our first, I decided I'd be a stay-at-home mom, while Frank would work full-time. Sally knows this and has taken advantage of the fact that I'm always at home so she can visit her grandson at any time of the day. Now, usually, that would be good for a young baby, since his grandmother got to bond with him often.

Sally, however, had no scruples about coming over, banging on the door, and demanding to be let in. Even when Vic had just fallen asleep. And this has been happening constantly. See, Sally sees friends of hers in the mornings when Vic is awake. I spend the first part of the feeding and playing with my baby boy, and any visits from Grandma would be welcome during this time. But no, Sally has her own schedule.

As soon as Vic starts getting sleepy, usually in the afternoon, Sally has a sudden urge to look in on her baby grandson. While she's not entirely aware of Vic's sleep schedule — it can admittedly be quite irregular — she never even thought of asking about when would be an appropriate time for a visit. And it would have been fine if it happened once or twice, but this has become something of a habit the last while.

The last five times she has come over, I had only managed to get Vic asleep when she knocked on the front door. My baby boy, being the light sleeper he is, instantly woke up at the sound of the loud knocking, and promptly began to cry. Of course, that meant I'd have to spend two more hours trying to get him back to sleep.

I've taken to locking all the doors and ignoring Sally, which has resulted in a game of hide-and-seek on my part. Whenever I hear the knock at the front door, I sneak upstairs to calm Vic. Then I either hang around there, trying to calm him down, or, if he's not too unhappy about being woken up, I tiptoe to the backyard where we play for a time while we wait for Sally to give up and go home.

Eventually, I talked to Frank about my problem, and as the supportive husband is, he went to talk to his mom. He spent almost an hour there, and when he got back, he assured me that Sally would call or text before she came over. That satisfied me, since then I could tell her whether or not it was a good time for a visit. My satisfaction didn't last long.

She kept knocking for about 15 minutes, by which time I was fed up. I went to confront her, telling her Vic needed to sleep. In response, Sally took a deep breath and shouted, "I will see my grandson when I want!"

I was stunned but I kept my cool. I shut the door, locked it, and waited. Eventually, Frank got home, and we had another discussion. He talked to his mom again, and she claimed she had misunderstood the entire situation. To my surprise, the next three days were quiet. Ominously so.

On the third day, I got Vic to bed, let him sleep for a while with the video baby monitor trained on him, and went downstairs to have a short nap of my own while watching some reruns of old sitcoms. I awoke about 20 minutes later, checking the monitor app instantly. The screen was black, but I could have sworn I left it on.

I shook off the sleep and went upstairs to check on little Vic. Up the landing and around the corner. I opened his door — I knew I had left it slightly ajar — and stepped inside. My blood ran cold and my feet became two blocks of concrete. Leaning over Vic's crib was the outline of a person framed against the now-open window.

"Hey!" I shouted when I finally found my voice. The figure looked up with a fright, and I instantly recognized Sally staring back at me with guilt in her eyes. She quickly started to explain that she was worried because I wasn't answering the door, so she climbed through the second-story window to check on Vic.

Needless to say, I was fuming. I kicked her out of my house — not without threatening to call the police — packed my things, and waited for Frank. When he finally got home, I told him I'd be taking Vic, and the two of us would be staying with my mother until he managed to get Sally from sneaking into my house again. When he heard what she had done, he was boiling.

My father-in-law, Eugene, eventually messaged me saying I had overreacted. Although Grant and Sally had been divorced for a few years, she ran to him to say I was forbidding her from seeing her grandson. Sally also made a Facebook post that said we were keeping her from seeing Vic, which prompted many of her friends to take her side.

Frank explained the situation to his dad, but Grant kept saying we were being petty. Honestly, I have no idea whether I overreacted anymore. What do you think?

Here's another story about an overbearing MIL who wouldn't let a woman cook for her husband's birthday.

While Preparing for Her Husband's Birthday Celebration, Woman Becomes The Target of Her Mother-in-Law's Ploy

Birthdays are my jam, really. They're like personal holidays that give us an excuse to shower people we love with attention and cake. So, when Carl's, my husband, birthday rolled around, I was all in for a home-cooked, fancy dinner affair with the usual suspects: family and friends. Little did I know, this birthday would unfold more like a drama-filled episode of a daytime soap opera, thanks to my mother-in-law, Sally.

Sally decided to drop by a day early, offering her culinary assistance for Carl's special day. Our relationship had always been smooth sailing, so her help was welcomed with open arms. But as the saying goes, smooth seas do not make skillful sailors, and I was about to hit a storm I never saw coming.

The day was hectic, with Sally and me playing our parts in the kitchen ballet. Then, out of nowhere, Sally began a quest for missing cookie ingredients. These weren't just any cookies, though. No, they were the cornerstone of a birthday tradition she claimed to have upheld since Carl was three. The urgency in her voice convinced me to dash to the grocery store, despite a mountain of tasks awaiting my return.

I raced against time at the store, picturing myself as the hero of Carl's birthday tradition. This illusion shattered the moment I stepped back into our yard, greeted not by gratitude, but by Carl's fury. He accused me of abandoning ship, leaving his mother to man the kitchen single-handedly.

Confusion was my companion as I re-entered our home, only to find Sally missing in action. The guests began to arrive, and I was a mess — emotionally and physically. My quick shower did little to wash away the bewilderment and betrayal I felt.

The evening progressed with Carl and Sally treating me like I was invisible. The revelation that Sally orchestrated this drama as a way to paint herself as the day's savior and to outshine me, her daughter-in-law, was a twist I didn't see coming. Sally had turned Carl's birthday into her stage, leaving me cast as the villain.

After the curtain call on the birthday bash and the guests departed, Carl remained unconvinced by my side of the story. His blind spot for his mother's manipulations left me isolated in my own home. But fate, or rather karma, decided to take the stage next. Sally's boastful message, meant for a friend, found its way to Carl instead.

The phone Carl held in his hand the next morning was the plot twist we needed. It was an admission of Sally's orchestration and her reasons rooted in disapproval of my beliefs. Carl's confrontation with Sally opened up old wounds, but also the path to understanding and forgiveness.

In the aftermath, Carl and I agreed on a drama-free celebration for the following year — just the two of us in Bali. As for Sally, the jury's still out on whether she's truly moved past our differences, but I've committed to peace, for Carl's sake.

So there you have it, Carl's birthday drama that played out more like a Shakespearean tragedy than a celebration. It taught me that sometimes, the best-laid plans can unravel into lessons on forgiveness, understanding, and the lengths we go to for family — chosen or not. Next year's motto? "No drama, just Bali."