I was forty when my life imploded. Instead of a jungle survival show, my battlefield was the kitchen, my predators were three kids, and my teammates were endless chores.
“Mom, I’m getting a neck tattoo,” announces my teenager. My twin boys demand new Lego and no homework. All while I’m juggling a cold coffee, a late presentation that could earn me a promotion (and a needed raise), and a husband hiding behind an “unpaid internship.”
The house is chaos—broken doorknobs, collapsed fences, exhausted careers—and even the romance is dying. When my mother-in-law, Linda, suggests moving in “temporarily,” I reluctantly agree.
She enters, bringing not help but a whole entourage of students—doing my daughter’s therapy, styling my husband’s hair, helping with laundry and math—all overstepping in the guise of “structure.” When they arrive en masse, I respond by hiring three burly local tradesmen to reclaim order.
Conflict erupts: Linda’s plan to matchmake Ross is exposed, tensions burst, and everyone leaves. In the aftermath, Ross apologizes for not supporting me, I confess my exhaustion—and I share the good news: I got the promotion.
In that peaceful silence, I realize I’ve not just survived—I’ve won.