My mother-in-law said we were boring in bed – we had to cut her off. Anonymous Published May 17, 2026 1:00pm
‘I don’t know why you can’t just respect the way I choose to raise my children.’ I had bitten my tongue for so long, but my anger had finally slipped out. My mother-in-law, Anna*, had been talking at me for at least 15 minutes, a tirade that had started with a couple of nasty remarks about my ‘manipulative’ preschool children, then quickly escalated into her furiously listing all the ways in which I was a bad mother with uncontrollable kids. I simply couldn’t take her criticism anymore. I had to speak up.
There was a beat of silence – then she laughed in my face. It was a mocking, bitter laugh. It was at that moment I realised that she’d finally crossed the line – or more accurately, I’d finally had enough of her repeated line-crossing. I watched Anna stalk away, garden gate swinging behind her as she left. And, despite the upset, the overriding feeling was one of immense relief. For the first time ever, it felt like I could finally just wash my hands of her.
A Challenging Relationship from the Start
My relationship with Anna had always been challenging – in fact, it felt like she took against me on sight when my then-boyfriend (now husband) Dean* introduced us back in 2007. The first few times we met, Anna was prickly and, frankly, odd: she pried for graphic details about our sex life, asking what her son was ‘good at’. When we refused to discuss it, she said it was obviously because we were ‘boring in bed’. It wasn’t easy to take the high ground – especially when the dynamic felt so unbalanced.
She told me off about briefly having my elbows on the table at dinner, and made various comments about my appearance – like remarking that I clearly had too much time on my hands to have done my hair, make-up and nails. In hindsight, I realise she wanted to put me in my place, which is so confusing: she was my boyfriend’s mother. I wanted to get on with her, and I’d have thought she’d feel the same way. Instead, she acted like a jealous rival.
I could tell Dean found her behaviour embarrassing, but he always laughed it off, telling me I’d get used to her. I think he hoped she would settle down when it was clear we were long-term, but we were very much in uncharted territory, since his previous girlfriends hadn’t been around long enough to spend much time with her. As it turned out, he was wrong: things only got worse.
Escalating Tensions and Jealousy
Anna started making ‘jokes’ about how I’d taken Dean away from her – despite the fact that he’d phone her daily. She’d been on her own since splitting from Dean’s dad when he was little, so I didn’t begrudge the calls, but she seemed to use them to needle him rather than have a chat: sniffing that he was too distracted, he was late calling, or ‘why a call and not a visit?’. Nothing we could do or say would persuade Anna that I hadn’t replaced her, so mostly, we just tried to keep the peace.
Whenever she gave him the silent treatment because she felt neglected, it would be me persuading him to smooth things over ‘because she’s your mum’. But it wasn’t easy to take the high ground – especially when the dynamic felt so unbalanced. We had to be so mindful of her feelings, whereas she’d have no problem with calling us ‘oversensitive’ and ‘fragile’ if we reacted to her insults, or with making excuses like ‘I’m just saying it like it is’.
We tried not to let her behaviour affect our relationship – but, while we didn’t exactly argue over her, the extra tension ahead of visits could make us snappy with each other, and it was exhausting figuring out what had upset her each time she ignored his calls. We might have gone on like that forever if we hadn’t started a family – but children were the tipping point.
Children as a Tipping Point
Suddenly we had less headspace for keeping her happy, and Dean paying less attention to her meltdowns confirmed the ‘loss’ of her son to Anna. The day that Anna berated me in the kitchen was a turning point. We clashed increasingly with her as we were forced to defend our parenting at every turn. Anna thought it was ‘ridiculous’ that the kids slept in our bedroom past six months old. According to her, we gave them too much affection; and on one occasion, she declared the kids said ‘I love you’ too much. On top of life with preschool children, it was just too much to deal with.
The day that Anna berated me in the kitchen was a turning point. The second she left, I called Dean to say I’d had enough. That he’d have my support if he wanted to see her, but I would no longer be engaging with her. However, he was also at the end of his tether: he’d had enough of her complete lack of respect for me. In the days and weeks that followed, neither of us, nor Anna, picked up the phone. That was five years ago now.
Life After Estrangement
In the intervening years, Dean has had to come to terms with not having a loving maternal relationship – but while that’s objectively sad, the reality is that we both feel life has actually been far easier. I don’t like that I was the catalyst for the deterioration in their relationship; but the fact is, it was already draining for him, entirely separate to me. Though estrangement is often dismissed as an overreaction, it’s rarely about a single relationship-ending argument. In our case it was years of emotional stress – and Dean certainly doesn’t miss that.
It is a shame our children aren’t in contact with their grandmother. When we first mutually broke off contact with Anna, Dean and I agreed that if she wanted to see the kids, we’d have figured it out. But she never tried to speak to us about spending time with them – and now, when we talk about it, we always say we wouldn’t subject them to her. Children don’t need a grandma who pulls a face when they say ‘I love you’.
Even now, there are still moments when I can hear her judgmental comments. Every time I fall short as a parent, in my head I can imagine myself telling her, ‘Yes, you were right, I’m the worst mum’. I hate that I’ve internalised her criticism so much that I’m using it on myself all these years later. But as I cuddle my children to sleep (something Anna used to roll her eyes at), I know I’m giving them the unconditional love and sense of security that’s so important – and that they’d never have gotten from her. I try to remember that the qualities she thought made me a bad mum are the exact ones I strive to represent to my children: loving, supportive, open. Someone who listens and respects them. Our family may not be perfect, but we’re not short on love. So the loss isn’t ours – it’s hers alone.
*Name has been changed
Degrees of Separation This series aims to offer a nuanced look at familial estrangement. Estrangement is not a one-size-fits-all situation, and we want to give voice to those who've been through it themselves. If you've experienced estrangement personally and want to share your story, you can email izzie.price@metro.co.uk
