“Don’t invite me to your family celebrations anymore,” my son’s wife asked him.
My daughter-in-law once asked her husband—my son—not to invite her to our family celebrations anymore. In her opinion, we are just too peculiar.
At first, I was hurt, but then I decided to let it go. Why not? She herself, to put it mildly, is not exactly without quirks either.
It all started at their wedding. By the way, her name is very beautiful—Dana. So, the first incident happened right then and there.
I have two children, and at the wedding I decided to sit next to my younger daughter, Sveta. We were drinking champagne, enjoying salads and appetizers, and casually discussing the guests—we had known them all for years.
“Look,” I said, “Volodya is dancing with his wife.”
“If only he knew what kind of ‘decorations’ she has on her back, he would have left her long ago,” Sveta replied.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “How does she even have the nerve? And look over there, Lenka. She has such a caring husband—he recently gave her another ring. With a stone.”
“And he buys her fur coats, jewelry, takes her to the sea—wherever she wants! Yes, she really got lucky with her husband.”
“Not like Tolya’s wife,” I added. “Nothing is ever good enough for her—this is wrong, that is wrong. She wants fur coats, vacations… she’s completely worn the poor man out.”
Who would have thought that the person sitting next to us was not a guest at all, but the videographer? I was sure he was the photographer. It never even crossed my mind that he was recording video—and that our conversation would be heard so clearly.
Later, he edited the video and carefully removed the sound. But the original version still remained—and now Dana has it. When she received the video, she was very upset and confronted us, asking why we had been gossiping about everyone.
Another time, guests were gathering at our house—we were celebrating my юбилей, my birthday anniversary. Before that, as usual, we went grocery shopping. It just so happened that Dana and Maxim, my son, went to the supermarket with us. My husband took a cart, and we walked through the aisles.
I was putting in everything we needed. At one point I turned around and saw a whole pile of instant noodles, smoked chicken legs, a jar of sprat pâté, and two bottles of vodka in the cart.
I thought my husband had completely mixed up the groceries, and I indignantly started moving all of it into the nearest basket, saying:
“Are you not fed at home or what? Why did you take all this? What kind of food set is this supposed to be? And you even grabbed vodka—who said you could?”
Then I looked up and saw a completely unfamiliar man standing in front of me. He looked utterly confused. Meanwhile, my husband was standing nearby with our actual cart, barely holding back his laughter.
I wagged my finger at him, apologized to the man, put his groceries back, and promised myself I would be more careful. I was so embarrassed I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.
The birthday celebration itself went calmly, without incident. Well, except for one moment: my mother—Maxim and Sveta’s grandmother—accidentally tore Dana’s dress with her heel. My daughter-in-law’s dress was very long, and my mother, despite her age, still wears stilettos. She is energetic, takes care of herself, dresses fashionably, gets stylish haircuts, and wears bright makeup.
Every year she flies off on vacation, saves up specially for trips, and loves meeting her friends in cafés. That’s the kind of mother I have.
So there she was, stepping on the hem of Dana’s dress with her heel just as Dana started to get up. The dress ripped open with a loud tearing sound. It all happened on the stairway in the apartment building—I do not know why the three of them had gone there together: Dana, Maxim, and my mother.
Maxim did not immediately understand what had happened and got scared.
“Oh, my leg!” my mother cried out.
Maxim, thinking his wife was unwell, scooped Dana up in his arms and carried her up the stairs.
“Put me down! Put me down!” she screamed.
The rest of the story is in the comments under the post 👇
My daughter-in-law asked her husband — my son — not to invite her to our family celebrations anymore, because she thinks we’re all a bit eccentric.
At first I was offended, but then I decided not to pay attention. Really, so what? As if she herself is completely normal!
It all started at their wedding. By the way, her name is very beautiful — Dana. Well, the first incident happened right there at the wedding.
I have two children, and at the wedding I decided to sit next to my younger daughter, Sveta. We were drinking champagne, eating salads and appetizers, and chatting about the guests among ourselves — after all, we know them all inside out.
“Look,” I said, “there’s Volodya dancing with his wife.”
“If he knew what magnificent, branching antlers he’s wearing, he’d divorce her in a second!” Sveta replied.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “How does that woman even have the nerve? And look over there, Lena. She’s got a good husband — he just gave her another ring recently. With a diamond.”
“He buys her fur coats, diamonds, takes her to the seaside — anywhere she wants. Yes, she really does have a good husband.”
“Not like Tolya’s wife,” I chimed in. “Nothing is ever good enough for her. Buy her a fur coat, take her on vacation… She’s completely worn the poor man out!”
And who could have known that the stranger sitting next to us was actually the videographer? I had no idea he was recording video! Or that Sveta’s and my voices would be heard so clearly on it!
I honestly thought he was the photographer.
Later he edited the footage and skillfully removed our voices. But the original version still survived, and Dana is the one who has it now. Back then, when she got the video, she was furious and scolded us: why had we sat there gossiping about everyone?
Another time, guests were gathering at our house to celebrate my юбилей — my anniversary birthday. Before that, as usual, we went shopping for groceries so we’d have something to feed all those guests. Somehow Dana and Maxim — my son — ended up going to the supermarket with us. My husband took a shopping cart, and off we went on our journey through the aisles.
I grabbed what we needed and tossed it into the cart. Then at one point I turned around and saw a huge pile of instant noodles, smoked chicken legs, a jar of sprat pâté, and two bottles of vodka.
I thought: my husband has completely lost his mind, buying all this garbage. So I angrily started throwing it all out of the cart into a nearby basket of canned goods, muttering:
“Are you not being fed properly or what? What on earth did you buy? What kind of nutritionist’s nightmare is this? And you bought vodka too — who even said you were allowed to drink?”
Then I looked up and saw a completely unfamiliar man. His face had gone long, and his eyes were huge. Meanwhile my husband, that rascal, was standing off to the side with our actual cart, choking with laughter!
I shook my fist at him, apologized to the man, put his dry noodles, vodka, and sprats back, and solemnly promised never to do that again. I was so embarrassed I wanted the ground to swallow me up.
The birthday celebration itself went fine, without any real incidents. Unless you count the fact that my mother — that is, Maxim’s and Sveta’s grandmother — tore Dana’s dress with her high heel. By accident. My daughter-in-law’s dress was very long, and my mother, despite her age, still wears stilettos. She’s a lively old lady in general — dresses fashionably, gets stylish haircuts, wears bright makeup.
She flies off to resorts every year without fail, saving up money specially for it. She loves going to cafés with her friends. That’s just the kind of mother I have.
So she stepped on the hem of Dana’s dress with her stiletto just as Dana was walking. The dress ripped with a loud tearing sound. It happened on the stairwell landing in the apartment building, though I have no idea why the three of them had gone there together — Dana, Maxim, and my mother.
Maxim didn’t understand why Dana cried out and got scared.
“Oh, my leg!” my mother squealed.
Apparently Maxim thought something had happened to his wife’s leg, so he scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs.
“Put me down! Put me down!” she shouted.
Maxim, bewildered, set her down on the landing and opened the door.
“What about your leg?” he finally thought to ask.
Dana snorted irritably.
“Nothing! Your granny tore my dress!”
Later I bought her another dress in its place. Exactly the same one. I even found the same size. But she was still offended.
Then at Sveta’s wedding, where Dana and Maxim were of course invited, one of the groom’s friends caught two pigeons outside so the newlyweds could release them later. For some reason Dana didn’t like that, but I thought it was a great idea. Free pigeons! Not that I’m sorry to spend money on paid ones — it was just more interesting this way!
At that same wedding, Sveta’s groom decided to make a joke. And when the registrar asked whether he agreed to marry, he loudly said:
“No!”
Sveta swung her bouquet at him, and in a panic he quickly continued:
“That’s what I would never say! Of course I do!”
Then at the banquet, when the toastmaster announced the first contest, the participants, in their nervousness, mixed up the confetti poppers with decorative smoke flares.
You know, the kind that release colored smoke, usually used outdoors for photo shoots. Sveta and her groom had planned to take pictures in a cloud of colored smoke.
So the guests grabbed those flares and filled the whole hall with green, pink, and turquoise smoke. It was beautiful, of course, but we had to wait for it all to clear out. We stood outside with champagne, watching bright festive smoke billow out of the restaurant windows.
Then the toastmaster came up to the bride and groom and said she’d just step away for five minutes to a private place to powder her nose. And she never came back. So my mother and I had to host the wedding ourselves.
All in all, it actually went pretty well, even fun in places. We came up with different games and contests, as tradition demands.
Though one of them didn’t go so well: the groom was given the task of cutting a heart out of paper, but what he produced looked more like a butt. And then the cake got dropped. Or rather, a waiter fell into it — full force — after tripping on the carpet. Two other waiters were just carrying it out. And then the first one just went flying into it with his whole body — splat! The tray on the floor, the waiter too… Everyone went silent. A tense silence, ringing in the ears. The poor waiter was afraid to get up, trying to retreat toward the kitchen by crawling sideways like a crab.
Then he got up and ran. Covered in sponge cake. It was like some old movie comedy. How he washed all that frosting off himself, I don’t know — history is silent on that point — but the cake had to be replaced with one from the shop across the street. Not nearly as grand, just a plain simple one, not a wedding cake at all.
Sveta was upset at first, then changed her mind and kept on having fun. If the cake fell, that just meant they’d have a sweet life together.
Dana, twirling a champagne glass in her hands, drawled:
“Something is always happening at your family celebrations… Tell me, is your life like that too?”
“Like what?” I asked, not understanding.
“Well… like this. All crooked and sideways.”
I shrugged.
“No, our life is perfectly normal. We live well.”
Dana only smirked.
“What’s so special about that?” I suddenly found myself getting offended. “Nothing really terrible has happened here. But in life… things have happened that would make your eyes pop out!”
“I believe it,” Dana said with a smile. “In your family, absolutely anything can happen. Your jokes are downright scary sometimes.”
“What jokes?”
“What jokes?” Dana set down her glass and looked me in the eye. “Remember the suitcase Grandma gave Maxim for his birthday?”
She meant the suitcase on which my mother had printed her most unfortunate photo — deliberately choosing the worst one — along with the words: “I love my granny.”
I admit, the photo really wasn’t flattering, but otherwise, what was the big deal? That’s just her sense of humor — unusual, maybe.
No need to grumble at an old lady. You could always blame it on Alzheimer’s or senility. My mother is nowhere near that, of course, but you could blame it on that if you wanted!
Dana didn’t appreciate that kind of humor. And one day she said outright to Maxim that she would never again come to our family celebrations — because she was afraid. Who knows what else might happen with us? Ours is a family with a screw loose!
A year after Sveta’s wedding, she gave birth to a daughter. We all went to visit them together, including Maxim and Dana, although by then she had grown wary of our family get-togethers.
And then the newly minted father, overflowing with pride in his new status, decided to show everyone what a good parent he was. So he got dressed, took his phone, grabbed the stroller, and left for a walk.
And there stood Sveta in the hallway, staring at the closed door, holding her fully dressed baby daughter in her arms.
We all sat there as a group guessing how long it would take the hapless father to realize he’d forgotten the baby. He called half an hour later and asked in astonishment:
“Sveta, did you forget to put our daughter in the stroller for me?”
That’s when I thought: well, apparently my son-in-law is more “one of us,” so to speak. With his own oddities. I was actually proud of him. I almost wanted to shake his hand when he came back with the empty stroller. We all laughed.
Dana shook her head and became even more convinced that she had no business at our family gatherings. That’s exactly what she said:
“Don’t invite me to your family celebrations anymore!”
And ever since that stroller incident, she hasn’t shown up anywhere. Maxim comes alone. And what about me? Nothing. I’m not going to drag her here by force. If she doesn’t want to come, then let her stay away — that’s entirely her choice.
Unfortunately, conflicts with mothers-in-law are quite common. Here’s another story on the subject: Lyudmila Vasilyevna категорически forbids Katya from having children, arguing that her son has financial difficulties. The girl realizes that her mother-in-law simply doesn’t want to lose her source of income. Will Katya find the strength to give Sasha an ultimatum — either her or his mother?
