2) My Husband Dropped a Last-Minute Family Visit on Me—And Expected Me to Play the Perfect Host”

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The house was a disaster. Kids were running wild, his mom picked at burnt frozen pizza, and Alex was red-faced, fumbling with whipped cream. I poured myself a glass of wine, raised it to his mom, and said, “Cheers!” I was calm, composed, and completely detached from the madness. It was his mess now, and I made sure he knew it.


That night, Alex tried to argue, but I reminded him I’m his wife, not a maid. The next morning, he cleaned the kitchen on his own. Weeks later, he suggested planning the next family visit together. It was the first time he truly acknowledged the imbalance. And from that moment on, he never dared to dump surprise hosting duties on me again.

...... 

Continue here

Saturday morning. I was folding laundry. Then my husband strolls into the room like he's got a dinner reservation at Buckingham Palace and drops this bomb:

"Hey, honey. My family's coming over today. Just a little thing. You've got, like... four hours. Mom, Dad, my sister, her kids. Nothing big. Tidy up, run to the store, whip up dinner and dessert? You know—so we don't look bad."

HE ALSO LEFT A NOTE AND WENT TO REST, "so that I don't forget what to do".

I looked around the room. At the baskets of unfolded clothes. The clutter from the week. My own to-do list, still untouched.

And there he was, sinking into the couch, feet up, flipping channels. Not a care in the world.

This wasn't a WE situation. It was a ME situation — and I was done being the unpaid event planner for his surprise gatherings.

So I smiled. "Sure, babe. I'll run to the store."

I grabbed my keys. Got in the car. And drove.

To Target.

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