Ты обязана мне праздник устроить! свекровь перепутала мой дом со своим дворцом! невестка истории

Stories about Mother-in-Law    • Свекровь   Subscribe to our channel 📌, click on the bell 🔔, so as not to miss new and interesting life stories from life! Author of the story https://dzen.ru/id/5c35bde6a2966000aa... Sometimes it seems that women's stories that friends share in the kitchen or in line at the hairdresser's are just tales. But Larisa has long understood that women's stories about mothers-in-law and impudent relatives are real life stories, suffered and suffered again. She herself would not have believed it if she had not come face to face with it. Because her mother-in-law is a real impudent mother-in-law, one of those who are written about in women's stories and who forever remain a heroine in such genres as "mother-in-law of history" or "daughter-in-law of history". Larisa and her husband Dima lived in a small but cozy two-room apartment. Nothing special - like many others. True, with one caveat: Dima turned out to be a lazy husband. Such a lazy man that his motto was "let everything resolve itself". Especially when it came to his mother. And Larisa's mother-in-law considered herself a queen. And then one day, like in the best interesting stories, she barged into their apartment without calling. Oh, Larochka, my dear! - she immediately began to chirp. - My birthday is in a week. And you owe me a party! Larisa froze in the hallway, holding a bag of groceries in her hands. She could not believe her ears. — Excuse me, what do I have to do? — she asked again. — A celebration, Larisa! — the mother-in-law snorted as if she were talking to a girl who hadn’t done her homework. — My anniversary! There are a lot of guests, about thirty people. You’re the daughter-in-law, so it’s your responsibility to organize everything. It was a classic of the genre. Another episode in the collection of impudent relatives. Larisa put her bag down heavily on the floor and stared at her mother-in-law. She was already looking around their modest apartment as if it were her palace. — Your house is so bright and spacious… It’s perfect for a reception. I have new furniture in the hall, it’s a shame to dirty it. And let everyone sit at yours. Larisa mentally noted that her mother-in-law and daughter-in-law clearly belonged to the enemy camps in their family. — Excuse me, but I don’t organize banquets for thirty people at my house, — she said calmly. — This is our home, not a banquet hall. — Exactly, our home! — Dima, a lazy man who suddenly decided to put in his word, intervened. — Lar, what are you saying? Mom is right. Is it that hard to help? It's only one day. Larisa turned to her husband and barely restrained herself from exploding. These stories of life could be repeated day after day: the mother-in-law and husband are one team, and the daughter-in-law is on her own. — No, Dima. This is our home. And we are not obliged to turn it into someone's palace. But the impudent mother-in-law, it seemed, did not hear her. — I want a three-course table, appetizers, a main course, a cake. And the waitresses in white! — she issued a new list of demands. — And live music. — Go to the restaurant, Mom, — Dima said, but his voice was languid. A lazy husband is a lazy man even in Africa. It’s easier for him to agree to everything than to argue. “To a restaurant?!” the mother-in-law jumped up. “It’s expensive there! Why pay if you have a daughter-in-law? You, Larisa, must understand that women’s stories are written about people like you. Who doesn’t want to be the mistress of the family!” Larisa chuckled. “You know, women’s stories also include such mothers-in-law. About impudent relatives who confused someone else’s house with their own palace.” The mother-in-law turned purple. “So!” she barked. “Either you throw a party, or I’ll tell everyone what a bad wife and a slacker you are!” Larisa closed her eyes for a moment. She remembered all the stories in her life, all the stories of women she had listened to all her life. It was all about her. She slowly approached her mother-in-law and said quietly: Okay. I'll throw a party. But at your home. With your furniture, your plates, and your music. And if I hear you say I have to one more time, the door's over there. Because I'm the one in charge in my house. The mother-in-law opened her mouth. But before she could explode, Larisa turned to her husband: And if you, Dima, want to help Mom throw parties, help her. But not at the expense of my house, my nerves, and my time. Dima looked at her as if he was seeing his wife for the first time. And the impudent mother-in-law, noisily inhaling, flew out of the apartment. Without saying a word. Larisa exhaled heavily. She knew: there would be more stories of life ahead, and perhaps her mother-in-law's stories would not end there. But she understood one thing for sure - her house would never again become someone else's palace. How calming it is to listen...