My mother-in-law sent me a terrible birthday gift to ruin it. I refused to tolerate her bullying and harassment this time, and with my husband’s help, I won.
I was surprised by a knock at the door after lunch two weeks ago. My birthday started well with calls from friends, hugs from family, and love from my spouse and child. But little did I know it would get messed up big time!
Mark cleaned the kitchen counters while our baby napped upstairs. I opened the door to discover a delivery man with a huge crate covered in cheerful paper. The huge crate took up virtually the entire doorway, making it almost ludicrous.
Who on earth…? I murmured as I helped the delivery man move the package inside. Mark entered, curious.
What a big one! Who sent it? He asked, smiling against the wall.
Equally confused, I shrugged. A tiny message fell to the floor when I untied the ribbon and peeled the wrapping paper. The handwriting was instantly recognizable as I took it up. Heart plummeted.
“From the wonderful woman who gave you a husband.”
My voice was disbelieving as I read it. My spouse frowned and took the note from me.
“It’s from your mother,” I stated flatly.
Mark’s face tensed briefly before he smiled reassuringly. “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think, Jane,” he said to keep positive.
Though I wanted to believe him, my intuition told me otherwise. Linda, my mother-in-law (MIL), disliked me from the start. First, it was subtle, stinging remarks.
“You work in marketing? She would say, “Howquaint,” with a half-smirk. “Don’t you think my son deserves someone as smart as him?”
After Mark and I married, the comments became more pointed.
We appreciate tradition in our family. Women should care for their husbands and children at home. Dear, I hope you can handle it, she said. She also constantly reminded me of my lowly upbringing.
She became more disapproving when I delivered our baby. She didn’t visit us at the hospital or at home. Her brief email: “I trust that you’re both managing, though I can’t say I’m thrilled about the influence you’ll have on my grandchild.”
Mark tried to dismiss her statements, saying she didn’t mean them. Nonetheless, they hurt. I was astonished and felt a knot of fear in my stomach as I saw this huge box. Was this her peacemaking attempt? Or another passive-aggressive jab?
“Go on, open it,” Mark said gently, but I could tell he was nervous.
I ripped off the remaining wrapping paper with nervous hands, revealing a plain box. I paused before opening the flaps. My heart dropped at the sight.
What I saw shocked me. The clothes were huge, old, and disgusting. They were all 3X/4X. These outfits could have been stylish fifty years ago, and that was charitable!
The cloth looked dusty, torn, and mildewy, like it had been stored in a basement for decades.
Realizing this was a harsh, planned insult, my hands shook. Linda mocked my modest upbringing and tried to humiliate me personally!
Mark, standing next me, paled at the clothes. He grabbed his phone and called his mother without saying a word, his face tightening with each ring.
After she answered, my hubby was quick! “Mom, what have you done!” he shouted, placing the phone on speaker so I could hear both sides. Linda’s icy, contemptuous voice broke the silence.
“What’s wrong, Mark? Don’t you like thoughtful gifts?
“A thoughtful gift? You kidding me? Mark’s voice rose in rage and bewilderment. You purposefully delivered my wife a box of rags not appropriate for a circus clown! What are you doing?
Mark, I’m not trying. “I just thought Jane could use some new clothes,” Linda said, sounding innocent.
“New clothes? These are Stone Age artifacts! Mom, they’re not her size. This stinks!” Mark was yelling, red-faced.
Standing there, I felt mixed emotions. I was hurt, angry, and unsure what else. Was it ease? Relief that Mark finally saw his mother for who she was?
Linda froze vocally. “You overreact. I thought she might want something different. I’m not responsible for her unsophisticated tastes.”
Husband clinched jaw. “This isn’t about taste, Mom. Jane deserves respect, which you lack! Stop playing your games!”
He abruptly hung up, his hands still shaking with wrath. He turned to console me, softening his expression. I’m sorry, Jane. I had no idea she would do this.”
Swallowing hard, I tried to calm down. My pain and rage were overwhelming. “Babe, it’s not your fault.” My MIL wasn’t petty; she planned to embarrass me on my special day! I wouldn’t let her get away with it.
She needed to realize her actions have repercussions. I was surprised when my husband exclaimed, “Let’s teach her a lesson!” when he saw my resolve. Our strategy was hazardous, but it was the only way to demonstrate her I wouldn’t tolerate her bullying.
The following few hours were devoted detailing every package item. I photographed each garment, capturing every stain, tear, and neglect. I wanted Linda’s message to be undisputed.
As we repacked the box, I had an idea. I said, “Let’s add a little something extra,” with mischief. We found a framed photo of Mark, our baby, and me smiling and happy.
I wrote a note saying, “We may not fit your perfect image, but we are a family, and you can’t tear us apart.”
Mark contacted his parents and sister the next day to explain. Father, always a peacemaker, sighed. “Not surprised. This is how she’s always been. However, this is a new low.
Melanie, his sister, spoke more. She lost it! Jane, I’m sorry. Her recent behavior is intolerable. She has to be corrected.”
We implemented our plan with their help. We asked Linda over for an informal late birthday party, hoping she would accept. To our relief, she accepted, likely expecting another chance to govern.
Day arrived, and Linda entered with her customary arrogance. We took her to her seat and placed a photo album of her unclean clothes in front of her. She opened the album out of curiosity and gasped when she saw it.
“What is this?” she questioned Mark.
Don’t you recognize them? Jane’s birthday clothes from you. We gave you them again.”
“I don’t remember gifting her any clothes,” she lied while her husband and daughter paid attention.
We invited her to follow us into the living room, expecting her to deny it. She stopped when she spotted the huge box in the middle. It was wrapped in her paper.
“Surprise!” I said with her usual phony smile. “To thank you for your generous gift, we gave it back to you improved!” Linda glanced between the package and the family, perplexed.
Mark’s parents and sister watched her curiously for her response. “Go ahead, open it and show them exactly what you got my wife for her birthday,” my husband said, crossing his arms.
Linda hesitated, but she had no choice with everyone watching. She removed the wrapping paper and opened the package, her expression turning dull as she recognized the garments she sent me. The framed photo, her note to me, and another letter were found.
Face flushed with fury, hands shaking as she grabbed the image. She demanded, shocked and furious, “What is this?”
“No matter how much you belittle me, I won’t go away. Mark and I work together to raise our child with love, not hate.”
My spouse announced, “You can either be a part of that or stay away. We won’t accept your games again.” Melanie, Mark’s sister, sent her father the note my mother put in her “gift” to me.
Mark’s dad read it and disapproved. Linda, this is low. Even you.”
Melanie agreed and nodded in solidarity. Mom, you went too far. Stop it.”
Linda stood speechless, staring at her family instead of the package. She felt vulnerable, outnumbered, and outmaneuvered. There was no turning back.
Mark moved closer, his voice forceful. If you do this again, Mom, you’ll be banned from our life. You must choose between pride and family.”
Linda mumbled an apology with lowered shoulders. She hurriedly packed and left the house. A final door closed behind her, ending her reign of terror.
She made a few timid reconciliation attempts in the days that followed, expressing regret. But time will tell if she meant them.
I felt empowered like never before. I returned her cruelty. The best part? Family members finally realized her for who she was! She may have believed she was smart, but I won.
I got wonderful, epic revenge on my MIL without even trying!
Inspired by true events and people, this work is fictionalized for creativity. To preserve privacy and enrich the story, names, characters, and facts were changed. The author does not imply any resemblance to real people, events, or places.
From thecelebritist.com
