Respect isn’t something you ask for. It’s something you demand when people keep taking you for granted. And when my husband, Ryan, and my mother-in-law, Sharon, decided I should take unpaid leave to manage her home renovation, they thought I’d just agree without a fight. Oh, how wrong they were.
The Start of the Disaster
There’s a special kind of frustration that comes with being undervalued in your own home. It’s the slow burn of biting your tongue when you should speak up. The simmering rage of being dismissed over and over until one day, you decide you’re done playing nice.
For me, that day began like most of my husband’s family disasters do… with my mother-in-law, Sharon, declaring she had a “brilliant idea.”
“I’ve been thinking,” she announced during our weekly family dinner, her voice dripping with manufactured sweetness. “My house needs more than just a little touch-up. We’re talking a complete transformation.”
Ryan nodded enthusiastically, his eyes gleaming with the same excitement as his mother’s. “Isn’t she amazing? Always thinking ahead.”
I caught the subtle, dismissive glance he shot my way, as if he was saying, “You could never come up with something like this.”
Sharon’s “little touch-up” wasn’t just a few new cabinets or a fresh coat of paint. No, she was talking about gutting the kitchen, tearing up the floors, and redoing all three bathrooms—at the same time.
“Do you have any idea how complex this will be?” I asked, keeping my voice controlled. “Professional project management isn’t a joke.”
Sharon waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, sweetie. How hard can it be? You just need to coordinate a few people.”
I forced a tight smile. “Right. Because managing multi-million dollar marketing campaigns is apparently child’s play compared to your home renovation.”
Ryan shifted uncomfortably. “Jen, don’t start.”
I thought, Great! Hope she hires a good contractor.
Oh, how naive I was.
The Audacity
One evening, over what I thought was a normal dinner, Sharon set her fork down and looked at me like she was about to bestow upon me the greatest opportunity of my life.
“You should take a few months off work to manage the renovation,” she announced, as if I had been waiting my whole life for this honor. “Helping with the house would be so much more meaningful than sitting at a desk for that miserable salary that barely pays the bills.”
I froze mid-bite.
“Excuse me?” I set down my fork, my voice razor-sharp. “Meaningful? I built my career from scratch. Every email, every presentation, and every strategy I’ve developed… that’s meaningful.”
Sharon leaned back, her lips pursed. “Marketing? Please. It’s not like you’re doing anything important.”
Ryan chimed in, “Mom’s right. What difference would it make if you stepped away for a bit?”
What difference would it make? This coming from Ryan was… unbelievable.
What my MIL didn’t know (because Ryan insisted on keeping it a secret) was that my “miserable” salary was actually higher than his. But apparently, “it would be humiliating if his mom knew I made more than him.”
I swallowed my rage before speaking. “I’m not taking unpaid leave to manage your renovation. I have a career, Sharon. This is NOT my job.”
“Oh, come on,” Ryan scoffed. “You act like you’re running a Fortune 500 company.”
My hand clenched around my water glass. “And what exactly are YOU running, Ryan? Besides your mouth?”
Ryan’s face reddened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” I shot back. “I bring home more money, I work longer hours, and I’m supposed to drop everything for a renovation?”
Sharon interrupted, “Family comes first, Jennifer. Your little job can wait.”
Ryan sighed dramatically. “Jen, it’s not like your job is saving lives. No one would even notice if you took a break. Helping my mom is way more important right now. You can always go back to emails later.”
Emails? Like my work was just a bunch of meaningless emails while his was somehow important.
I let out a slow breath and the room went dead silent.
“Let me make something crystal clear,” I snapped. “I’m NOT pausing my career to run your mother’s vanity project. Not today. Not ever. Period.”
The Revenge
Two days later, while Ryan was in the shower, a text popped up on his phone from Sharon. It was meant for him, but the preview was all I needed to see.
Mom: “She’s so selfish. Honestly, how does she not care about family? I raised my son for someone better than this.”
I stared at the screen, my pulse hammering. My fingers trembled as I held the phone, reading the words over and over.
“Family,” I muttered to myself, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “This is what family looks like?”
I pulled up my work calendar, my fingers flying across the screen. One quick email to my manager, and I was set.
I requested a week off from work, but not for her renovation.
I booked myself a solo spa retreat. Five-star resort. Massages, facials, yoga classes. No phones. No emails. Just blissful silence.
Before I left, I made sure to set them up for success. I created a group chat with Sharon and Ryan and sent one final message:
“Since you both are so invested in the renovation, I’ll step back and leave it to the dream team. I’ll be out of town all week. Good luck!”
Then, I turned off my phone.
When I finally turned it back on, I was met with a flood of missed calls and messages.
“Ryan: Babe, we need to talk. Sharon: This is completely irresponsible of you, Jennifer! Ryan: Seriously, you’re making this harder than it needs to be. Sharon: Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”
Oh, I had every idea.
When I got home, it was a masterpiece of chaos.
The contractor had quit after Sharon micromanaged him into oblivion. The kitchen delivery was delayed indefinitely. The bathroom was half-demolished with no plan for what to do next. Ryan and Sharon were snapping at each other like alley cats.
“How’s the dream team doing?” I asked, barely containing my smirk.
Ryan ran a hand down his face, looking defeated. “We’ve made a complete mess of everything.”
Sharon sighed. “I never thought… I mean, we thought it would be simple.”
Ryan turned to me. “We… might need to hire someone.”
“Might?” I raised an eyebrow.
Sharon let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Fine. We’re hiring another project manager.”
I smiled. “Oh, you mean paying someone to do the job you expected me to do for free? What a novel idea.”
In the end, they hired a professional. And Ryan? He never asked me to “step away” from my job again.
And me? I went back to work, kept my salary, and booked another spa weekend. Just for fun.
Because respect isn’t given. It’s taken.
