My fiancé’s mother always tried to keep me out of family gatherings. Her position was clear: I would only be accepted as a member of the family if Joaquin and I were married, not before.
But she quickly saw how her behavior towards me turned against her.
She suddenly changed.
I often heard my fiancé’s mother tell me directly, “Once you marry Joaquin, you will be a family.” She basically said I’ll only be here until the wedding bells ring.
It was hard not to feel left out.
But since Joaquin’s brother’s girlfriend got the same cold, I didn’t feel singled out. I never felt hatred for my future mother-in-law because, to be honest, her actions seemed motivated by fear – fear of losing her boys to their relationships.
Yes, that’s my fiance – she used to be all about keeping her “little boy” to herself. When we moved in together she cried non-stop for days and even faked a heart attack when he proposed! Is it even conceivable? Just when we thought we were on cloud nine, drama struck.
Joaquin’s mother did not change her attitude after he proposed.
For three years she refused to invite me to family dinners, not even Christmas or Thanksgiving. The same excuse was then given: it was meant to be “family only” and I was “only a fiancee”.
I won’t even talk about family photos; I was never included. Being there watching him take pictures of it made me feel very bad because I knew I shouldn’t have been in it. To be honest, I think it would be fantastic if they included a photo of the family and another of the significant others.
But what do you know? That all changed recently when she started begging us to include her in our plans.
That’s how my future mother-in-law found out about my plans to buy a wedding dress (thanks to Joaquin’s babbling).
My mom sister and I had a special moment when we went shopping for wedding dresses. Thinking she was invited, she called me. When I told her it would just be the two of us, there was silence.
“Hi Claudia, I heard you will be shopping for a wedding dress this weekend. What time and where should I come?”
“Yeah, it’s this coming weekend. It’s just going to be my sister, parents and I. I’m sure you understand it’s just for family.”
It took about a minute before my future MIL could speak. It took her a while before she finally said, “Oh, okay. I have to go.”
Goodbye.
Joaquin, his brother, and his brother’s girlfriend burst out laughing when they heard about it. They said my “family only” statement was perfect.
On the other hand, Joaquin’s younger brother felt that I was being unduly critical of their mother and that since she had no daughters, I should have taken her feelings into consideration.
I get it, but after all the rejection, I just wanted a drama-free day. Why should I bring her into this when she never treated me like a daughter?
Shortly after, she attempted a ruse in which she gave Joaquin a list of “suitable” outfit ideas for me. It was basically a list of clothes she didn’t approve of. Among them were: not too tight, not too much cleavage, sweetheart neckline, high slit, no see-through, no halter, strapless, and so on. She hoped I would look “posh.”
Joaquin approached his mother because he couldn’t stand it. She wasn’t the bride, not even the bride’s mother, he informed her, so stop tampering with the wedding dress. He gave me a big hug and advised me not to follow his mother.
“One ear in, one ear out,” he declared. We were getting married, he informed me, and that was what mattered most to us. In fact, he laughed and said that I should follow my own intuition when choosing a dress rather than following “his mother’s rules”.
Meanwhile, MIL was left to stew in her own juices, worried about the decision I had made. Her attempts to dictate how we should dress through a set of “rules” simply strengthened my resolve.
On our wedding day, I showed up dressed in everything she hated.
My dress was strapless and revealed little cleavage. Even so, I kept it tasteful. The dress flowed well on my skirt and fit in the upper part. My evening dress had a high slit, but my wedding dress did not.
I could feel her staring at my outfit with her gaze. Shock, amazement, and – dare I say it – a hint of realization mixed together. It was an exciting moment.
I felt like I won the lottery when I was actually walking down the aisle. I went to the man of my dreams and felt amazing like I was the luckiest woman in the world. Even though I don’t get along with my MIL that much, I adore her son.
My fiancé made sure to take lots of photos with me at the reception, one prominently featuring me surrounded by his family. It was his subdued way of letting me know that, despite what his mother had suggested earlier, I was in fact a member of the family. To really capture the beauty of the dress, we took a few more glamorous photos of the two of us.
After a few toasts and dances later in the evening, the mood lightened and my MIL came over to me. When I was ready to confront her, she gently commented on my outfit.
“You look beautiful,” she said softly. While it wasn’t a long apology, her remarks felt like a small win at that particular moment. She said, “Welcome to the family.”
The twist is that after marriage, my view of MIL started to change.
Maybe she softened after witnessing her son’s true happiness and the joy of the day.
Or maybe it was the knowledge that if she continued in this direction, her antics would drive her away from not just one, but all of her boys. We’ve seen a gradual increase in her inclusiveness and my future sister-in-law has even commented that MIL has started to treat her a bit better.
And that’s the news. It was a bit of a gamble to turn the tables, but it seems to have just paid off. Was it a little rough? Maybe a little, but you have to fight back from time to time.
Not only Claudia’s mother-in-law (MIL) was taken aback during the wedding. After receiving a wedding gift from her parents, one bride accused them of being thrifty.
After opening our wedding gift, my daughter accused us of being cheap and later apologized after finding out the truth.
I never imagined that I would have a bitter relationship with my ungrateful daughter. But Lucy, our eldest, recently made it difficult to avoid bumping heads.
Brief history: I am a full-time housewife, formerly a stay-at-home mother, who is very active in our community. My husband’s extraordinarily prosperous career afforded me this luxury. I have been married to my husband for over thirty years. Our three gorgeous girls are here. Lucy, our oldest, tied the knot last week.
Brian, Lucy’s college sweetheart, was married. They had been dating since they first met during their senior year of college. Unfortunately, since Lucy left for university, our family hasn’t spent as much time with her. We would barely talk more than once a week.
Lucy and I don’t seem to have similar interests. She is a driven professional woman. She seemed to have no choice but to become a housewife.
On the other hand, it was my joy and full-time job. Still, I encouraged her to pursue her goals and always be kind to her future husband. I was convinced that they would treat each other with respect and care.
As all weddings should be, theirs was a beautiful day full of happiness and joy. Our family covered most of the wedding expenses. Still, we gave them a wedding gift.
My husband and I decided to offer Brian and Lucy the key to our cottage as a truly meaningful gift. For us, this farm had immense sentimental value, full of family memories. We will spend years with our family.
Lucy called us the day after the wedding. I was completely taken aback by the tone in which she first spoke to us. She says:
“I appreciate the gift, but to be honest, I was hoping for something nicer than this cabin. We’ll most likely pay you back.”
Even though I couldn’t speak, I managed to reply, “No problem, dear.”
Before ending the call, Lucy subtly hinted at how cheap our gift was without showing any sign of appreciation. I was shocked to hear such remarks from someone I raised. I had to take a moment to process what she said and determine the best course of action.
Yesterday we had all our daughters and their husbands at the cottage. The intention was to reveal to Lucy the true value of this “shack” she had written down so quickly. The cottage has just undergone repairs that have preserved the memories and added beauty and coziness to it. Naturally, Lucy didn’t know about it.
When we arrived at the cabin, I could see Lucy’s initial skepticism, her dismissive attitude evident in the way she looked around. But as she stepped inside and began to notice the intricate details—the carefully restored woodwork, the modern furnishings mixed with nostalgic touches, the warmth that filled every room—her expression slowly changed. I could see the knowledge dawn in her eyes, the realization of what the cottage really was.
We walked her through the house, pointing out the renovations and explaining the sentimental value of each corner. The living room where her father and I spent countless evenings by the fire, the kitchen where our family meals were lovingly prepared, and the garden where she and her sisters played as children. Lucy’s demeanor softened as she began to understand the depth of our gift, the meaning of this place that holds so many cherished memories.
By the time we reached the end of the tour, Lucy’s earlier resentment had dissipated, replaced by a mixture of respect and regret. She turned to us, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and silently apologized. It wasn’t just an apology for her initial reaction to the gift, but for the distance that had grown between us over the years. She realized that the cottage was more than just real estate; it was an heirloom, a piece of our family history that we were passing down to her and Brian.
I knew at that moment that the gesture had achieved something far greater than we had imagined. It bridged the gap, reconnected, and reminded Lucy of the values we were trying to instill in her. The cabin, once dismissed as just a “hut”, became a symbol of our love and trust, a place where new memories could be made and old ones kept.
As we sat down to dinner that evening, the atmosphere was warm and relaxed, a stark contrast to the tension that had hung over us only a few hours earlier. Lucy’s gratitude was evident in every word she spoke and for the first time in a long time, I felt like we were truly on the same page. It wasn’t just about the gift; it was about understanding, about family, and about the unspoken bond that united us all.
In the end, the cottage became not only a gift of bricks and mortar but also a powerful reminder of the love and unity that defined our family. And as we left that evening, I knew that our relationship with Lucy had taken a turn for the better, now rooted in a deeper understanding of what it truly means to be a family.