Last Christmas, my MIL packed up my cooking and claimed online that she made it. So this year, when I refused to host, she went ahead and sent invitations to our house without asking.
When my husband told me, my heart sank. Patricia, my mother-in-law, had hijacked our holiday again. We agreed to go along but simplify: I secretly ordered a huge catered feast, while “handing” her the hosting duties and every tedious task I could think of—polishing silver, organizing linens, even clearing out storage. She eagerly took the work, thinking she’d still get the glory.
On Christmas, she presented a tiny deli ham, acting like the star of the show. I quietly brought out the massive, gourmet spread as “backup food,” carefully letting everyone think she had tried but been overwhelmed. The family raved about the feast—and her struggles only reinforced my clever planning.
By the end, Patricia was flustered, defeated, and finally admitted she wouldn’t host next year. I didn’t just avoid being forced into servitude; I came out looking prepared, resourceful, and thoughtful—all while she did all the work.
