My MIL moved in “to help” — but when I came home to find three young women living in my house, folding laundry, flirting, and cutting my husband’s hair, I knew I wasn’t the one being replaced.
I was forty, and that was exactly when my life turned into chaos. I didn’t know how other people managed it, but I felt like the lead in a survival show.
Only, instead of the jungle, I had a kitchen. Instead of predators, three children.
And instead of a team, an ever-growing to-do list.
“Mom, I’m getting a tattoo on my neck. It’ll say ‘Free soul’…” my teenage daughter, Sue, announced without asking for permission.
“And we want a new Lego and no more homework!” shouted my twin boys, wrapping themselves with tape and tossing first-grade books like confetti.
I stood in the middle of the kitchen with a mug of coffee that had long since gone cold, staring at my laptop, where a presentation blinked at me.
I was supposed to submit it the previous Friday.
That one presentation could land me a management position — and with it, a raise we badly needed to stay afloat.
While I worked and juggled three kids, Ross was busy “reinventing himself” with yet another unpaid internship.
“I’m trying, Em.
It’s just temporary. Things will get better soon.”
We had started arguing over everything. The dirty pan.
My tone. His bored “uh-huh” whenever I tried to speak.
The romance had vanished somewhere between our cold dinners and the electric bill.
***
One evening, I was drying the floor after the washing machine had gasped its final breath.
Ross didn’t even look up as he said:
I almost choked. “Linda? The same Linda who once compared my lasagna to cat food?”
“She just wants to help.
Maybe we’ll finally have time for each other. Until I land a job and you get that promotion.”
I closed my eyes.
Knowing Linda, that wasn’t ‘help.’ But I was past the point of pretending I could handle it all.
I didn’t know then that “temporarily” was one of Linda’s favorite words. Also, one of the most dangerous.
I didn’t know she’d bring a full therapy support group in short shorts.
A few days later, Linda arrived. She didn’t even say “hello” — just barged in, took one look at me, and turned pale like she’d just seen a ghost.
“You look… exhausted, Emily.
Are you sleeping at all? No offense, dear, but your skin could use a little… citrus.
The story doesn’t e
Vitamin C serum. I’ll send you a link.”
“Hi, Linda. Welcome.”
She air-kissed my cheek and walked past me into the house.
The twins bolted toward her.
Ross came down the stairs just in time to get a full hug.
“My boy,” she crooned. “Still so handsome. You’ve lost weight — have you been eating at all?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” he chuckled.
“We’re really glad you’re here. It’s been… intense.”
“I can see that.
Don’t worry. I’ll help get things under control. A little feminine touch…
it’ll all be fine.”
I was the only one who felt the storm coming.
The first evening, I came home from work and for the first time in weeks, the house didn’t smell like burnt toast. Linda made a full roast with perfect potatoes.
I almost felt guilty for doubting her.
Until I heard it. A woman’s voice singing.
I froze in the hallway.
“Ross?” I called out.
“In the living room!” he replied cheerfully.
I walked in and found him sitting at the table, a towel around his shoulders, looking oddly pleased with himself.
A tall redhead stood behind him, comb in hand.
“Yes, that tends to happen when you skip lunch to avoid being fired.”
I looked from Ross to the redhead behind him, then toward the hallway, just in time to see two more women entering the room.
One of them, petite and blonde, carried a full laundry basket, giving me a sunny little wave.
The other was brunette, athletic. She leaned against the doorway, holding a notebook and a stack of flashcards.
“Hi!” the blonde chirped. “I’m Sofia.
Laundry’s all sorted. And your kids are adorable!”
“Hey there!” said the brunette. “I’m Tessa.
We were just finishing some math problems. Your twins are geniuses!”
Then the redhead behind Ross stepped forward and pulled off the towel with a flick.
I blinked. I felt like walking into…
a fever dream.
Ross grinned.
“They’re Linda’s students — well, former students. Just staying here for a bit while their dorm gets renovated. Mom told you, right?”
I slowly turned to the doorway where Linda stood, sipping chamomile tea.
“Didn’t I mention them, dear?” she said sweetly.
“They were exhausted — poor girls had nowhere to go.
I let them sleep in the guest room. They’re helping out a bit in return. It’s just temporary.”
There it was again.
Temporary.
“You’ve been so overwhelmed, dear.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really. By the way, Camille’s already spoken to Lily about that tattoo nonsense.”
Ross beamed. “She did calm Lily down.
It’s wild.”
My face was burning, but I smiled. “That’s sweet. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Breathe in.
Breathe out. You’re not jealous of three glowing interns in bike shorts.
I barely made it into the kitchen before Linda appeared right in front of me.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not…
jealous, are you, dear?” Linda asked sweetly, voice low enough that Ross wouldn’t hear.
I didn’t say a word. Just smiled.
She continued. “Consider it a test of your marriage — a chance to see what truly suits my son.
A woman full of energy and grace… or someone so exhausted she forgets how to smile.”
Linda thought she’d set the rules of the game. But I had already planned my next three moves.
And they were arriving the very next day.
In tool belts.
The following morning, I took a personal day. Technically, I told my boss I had a “family emergency.” That wasn’t a lie.
At 9:00 a.m. sharp, the doorbell rang.
By 9:01, Linda was standing in the hallway.
Three men stood on the porch.
Noah was first—tall, tan, with kind eyes and forearms that looked like they belonged in an action movie.
He was my friend’s brother and a professional landscaper.
Behind him came Mike, a plumber I’d met through work. Quiet. Built like a refrigerator.
And last was Dean — my old high school friend turned handyman-slash-mechanic.
Charismatic, bearded, always smelling like pine and coffee.
“Morning!” I chirped, throwing the door wide open.
Linda was confused.
“Helpers!” I said brightly. “Like your girls. Just a little extra support.
The laundry’s done — now let’s fix the plumbing, the fence, and oh — someone’s finally trimming that jungle we called a lawn.”
The guys waved politely and stepped inside.
Finally, Ross walked in and froze. “Who are these guys?”
Ross opened his mouth.
Closed it. Linda’s eye twitched.
The girls, predictably, came floating in like it was a reality show and someone had just introduced a twist.
Tessa looked confused. Camille narrowed her eyes.
Sofia? She winked at Noah. Of course.
And then began the most delightfully awkward day I’d had in months.
Mike fixed the pipes in his undershirt, flexing every time Ross walked by.
Dean offered to take a look at Ross’s car and shouted things like, “Whoa, who did this wiring?”
Noah mowed the lawn shirtless. Not my idea — it was hot. I merely didn’t stop him.
At one point, Linda cornered me in the kitchen, seething.
“You mean like letting three lingerie models move in and cut my husband’s hair?”
“That’s different.
They’re students.”
“So are these students of trade. Very hardworking.”
Ross tried to act like nothing was happening, but his head was spinning like a rotisserie chicken. He kept peeking out the window, watching Noah like a hawk.
Just when things couldn’t get more surreal, came the cherry on top, when Dean said:
I laughed.
“Flattery won’t fix the dryer, but I’ll take it.”
Ross stood up. “Okay. This is getting out of hand.”
“Oh?” I blinked.
“You didn’t say that when Camille gave you that free haircut.”
Linda stood abruptly.
“Alright, enough! I think we’ve had plenty of… experiments for today.”
“Experiments?
Is that what we’re calling it?” I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but then I saw this.”
I tapped and held up the screen — a clear photo of Linda’s open laptop that I took the day before. (Her notebook app was open, no password.
Apparently, she still didn’t believe in such modern sorcery as privacy settings. Lucky me!)
There was a neat little chart titled: “Potential matches for Ross.” A handwritten chart with Camille, Tessa, and Sofia’s names. Strengths.
Weaknesses. Notes like “good with kids” and “naturally flirtatious.”
Ross stared at the page in disbelief.
Linda blushed, but only for a second. “It’s just…
a backup plan, sweetheart.”
“A backup plan?!”
“They’re wonderful girls, and Emily’s been… well, stretched thin.”
“Mom, that’s rude! I can’t believe this!” Then Ross turned to me.
“Did you know about this?”
“Since yesterday.”
He dragged his hands down his face. “Okay. That’s it.
Everyone out. Girls, I’m sorry, but this is too much. Guys — thanks for the help.”
Dean grinned.
“No hard feelings, man. She’s worth fighting for.”
One by one, they left. The girls, stiffly.
The guys, cheerfully. Linda packed her tote bag in frosty silence.
When the house was finally quiet, Ross sat down on the couch and exhaled hard. I joined him.
“I’m sorry, Em.
For letting Mom steamroll in here like that. For not noticing how much you’ve been doing. And for not doing what I should’ve been doing — fixing stuff and telling you how amazing you are.”
“Yeah?”
“Seriously?
Wow, honey! I am so proud of you!”
I rested my head on his shoulder. The kind of silence that finally felt…
peaceful. For once, I didn’t feel like I was in a survival show. I felt like I’d won the damn thing.
And finally, I could breathe.
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