My Rich MIL Constantly Gives My Daughter Old, Dirty Clothes from Clothing Banks and Demands That She Wear Them
When my rich mother-in-law, Barbara, insisted on giving my daughter old, dirty clothes from clothing banks, I had to find a way to make her understand. Little did she know, her birthday party would be the stage for a lesson she’d never forget
“Lucy, what did your mother-in-law send you this time?” my friend Megan asked over our usual coffee catch-up.
“Oh, just more of her lovely donations from the clothing bank,” I replied, rolling my eyes. I had just received another bag of old, musty clothes from Barbara. “Here, let me show you,” I added, lifting out a tatty old dress I had tucked into my handbag.
“Why don’t you ever tell her to stop?”
“Because that would be rude, and John wouldn’t like it,” I said, exasperated. “He thinks she’s just trying to help.”
Megan sighed. “You’re too nice, Lucy. Too nice.”
Two woman at coffee shop, one holding up an old garment | Source: Midjourney
John came home later that evening, looking tired but cheerful. “Hey, Luce. Got some good news! Mom wants to take Emma to the park tomorrow.”
“That’s great,” I said, masking my unease. “Just make sure she doesn’t change Emma into any of those clothes she brings.”
John laughed. “Come on, Luce. They’re just clothes.”
The next day, when John and Emma returned, my heart sank. Emma was wearing a stained, oversized dress. It looked like it had been pulled straight from the garbage.
A child wearing an old dress | Source: Pexels
“Mommy, Grandma said this is what normal kids wear,” Emma said, her eyes wide with confusion.
“Sometimes people have strange ideas about what’s important,” I explained. “But we know what makes us happy, right?”
Emma nodded. “I like the clothes you buy me, Mommy. They’re pretty and clean.”
I kissed her forehead. “And that’s what matters.”
“But what if Grandma gets mad?” Emma’s voice was small.
An adult and child together in bed | Source: Pexels
“Don’t worry about that, sweetie,” I reassured her. “Mommy will handle it.”
The next day, I decided to confront John. “John, we need to talk about your mother.”
He looked up from his newspaper, surprised. “What about her?”
“I can’t keep accepting those old clothes she brings for Emma. It’s not right.”
John frowned. “Lucy, you know she means well. She’s just trying to help.”
I shook my head. “No, John. She’s trying to make a point. She thinks I’m wasting your money on new clothes for Emma.”
A couple arguing | Source: Pexels
He sighed. “I’ll talk to her.”
“No, John. I’ll handle it.”
Barbara’s visits had always been a source of tension. She’d swoop in with her designer bags, full of judgment and old clothes. “Lucy, you must learn to be frugal,” she’d say, handing me another bag of rags.
“Thank you, Barbara,” I’d reply, forcing a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
But the truth was, I never used those clothes. Emma deserved better. She deserved clean, well-fitting clothes, not the cast-offs Barbara deemed suitable.
A woman holding a large carrier bag | Source: Pexels
The day after the park incident, Barbara showed up unannounced. She waltzed into the living room, her perfume overpowering. “Lucy, we need to talk,” she declared, sitting down as if she owned the place.
“Barbara, I can’t keep accepting these clothes for Emma,” I said, my voice firm.
She looked taken aback. “What do you mean? They’re perfectly good clothes.”
“No, they’re not. They’re dirty and old. Emma deserves better.”
Barbara’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying my gifts aren’t good enough?”
An angry woman gesticulating | Source: Pexels
“I’m saying Emma shouldn’t have to wear rags while you live in luxury.”
Barbara’s face flushed with anger. “I am trying to teach her humility.”
“Humility? By making her feel less than? That’s not how it works, Barbara.”
She stood up abruptly. “You’re ungrateful, Lucy. You don’t appreciate anything I do.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m grateful for many things, Barbara, but not for making my daughter feel inferior.”
A man looking concerned | Source: Pexels
Barbara stormed out, leaving a tense silence in her wake. I knew I had crossed a line, but it was a line that needed crossing.
John came home that evening, sensing the tension. “What happened?” he asked.
“I told your mother we can’t accept her clothes anymore,” I said, bracing for his reaction.
He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Lucy, this is going to cause a lot of trouble.”
“Maybe, but it’s the right thing to do.”
He nodded slowly. “Alright. I support you, but this isn’t going to be easy.”
“I know, but it’s necessary,” I said, feeling relieved to have my husband’s support, but also anxious.
A woman texting | Source: Pexels
***
The next weekend, Barbara texted, insisting on taking Emma out again. My heart pounded as I typed my response. “No, Barbara. Not until you understand why this has to change.”
She replied with a string of angry messages, but I stood my ground. For Emma, for our family, and for myself, this had to change.
Birthday party decoration | Source: Pexels
Barbara’s birthday was the perfect time to set things right. I spent the next week meticulously gathering everything for the party: chipped plates, mismatched cups, and day-old pastries. John raised an eyebrow at my choices but said nothing.
On the day of the party, Barbara was dressed in her finest, a sparkling gown and expensive jewelry. She welcomed her friends into the house, oblivious to my plan.
The guests were greeted by the sad spread of food and the thrifted table settings. Barbara’s friends exchanged confused and uncomfortable glances, while Barbara tried to maintain her composure.
Hands holding cans of beans | Source: Pexels
“Lucy, what is all this?” Barbara asked, trying to keep her irritation hidden behind a forced smile.
“It’s a special spread, Barbara,” I said sweetly. “Like the gifts you give Emma.”
Her face tightened, but she said nothing. The room buzzed with awkward conversations.
Then came the gifts. Barbara tore into mine eagerly, expecting something grand. Instead, she found an old, broken chair, wrapped up nicely. The room fell silent.
“Lucy, what is this supposed to mean?” Barbara’s voice wavered with anger and embarrassment.
An elegantly-dressed older woman | Source: Pexels
“It’s what you’ve been giving Emma,” I said, standing tall. “You dress her in rags while you live in luxury. How is that fair?”
Her friends murmured in agreement. Barbara’s face turned red, and she seemed on the verge of tears.
“I… I didn’t realize it was that bad,” she stammered. “I thought I was teaching her humility.”
“Humility?” I echoed, my voice trembling. “You’re just making her feel less than. That’s not what family does.”
A man with a child on his lap | Source: Pexels
Barbara looked around the room, seeing nods of agreement from her friends. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I really am.”
John, who had been watching quietly, stepped forward. “Mom, Lucy’s right. Emma deserves better than that.”
Barbara looked at him, her eyes glistening. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I just… I thought I was doing the right thing.”
John sighed. “We know you didn’t mean any harm. But things need to change.”
A woman embraces another with a smile | Source: Pexels
Martha, one of Barbara’s oldest friends, spoke up. “You know, Barbara, this reminds me of your childhood. Remember how you hated hand-me-downs?”
Barbara’s face softened. “I did hate them. I guess I never dealt with those feelings properly.”
I looked at Barbara, seeing her in a new light. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s no excuse,” Barbara said quietly. “But I’m trying to do better now.”
John hugged her. “Thank you, Mom. It means a lot.”
A man hugging a woman | Source: Pexels
From that day forward, Barbara changed. She stopped bringing old clothes for Emma and instead began contributing positively to her granddaughter’s life, buying her new clothes and toys.
The relationship between Lucy and Barbara improved, marked by newfound respect and understanding. My bold action, driven by love for my daughter and a desire for fairness, ultimately brought the family closer together.
In the following months, Barbara’s transformation was remarkable. She not only
changed her behavior towards Emma but also started volunteering at local shelters and food banks. She began using her resources to help those in need, turning her past actions into a force for good.
A woman with a “volunteer”-printed T-shirt holding a food parcel | Source: Pexels
Entitled Mom on the Flight Broke My Daughter’s iPad – She Regretted It Sooner Than I Could Have Imagined
An entitled mom thought breaking my little daughter’s iPad would end her son’s tantrums. But what came next left her more panicked than I could’ve imagined. Karma works fast… even at 30,000 feet!
I, Bethany, 35 years old, never thought a two-hour flight could change so much. But there I was, settling into my seat with my five-year-old daughter Ella next to me. As the plane taxied down the runway, I breathed a sigh of relief. Ella was contentedly watching cartoons on her iPad, headphones snug on her ears…
A cheerful little girl holding a tablet | Source: Freepik
“You comfy, sweetie?” I asked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Ella nodded, her eyes glued to the screen. “Uh-huh. Can I have juice later?”
“Of course,” I smiled, reaching for my book. “Just let me know when you’re thirsty.”
As I cracked open my novel, movement across the aisle caught my eye. A family of three had just sat down: a couple and a little boy around Ella’s age. He was squirming in his seat, whining loudly.
Grayscale of a little boy throwing a tantrum | Source: Pexels
“I’m bored!” he wailed, kicking the seat in front of him.
His mother shushed him. “We told you, no screens on this trip. Be a good boy.”
The boy’s whining intensified, and I saw his gaze lock onto Ella’s iPad.
Oh boy, I thought. This might be a long flight.
A little boy crying | Source: Pexels
Twenty minutes in, a tap on my shoulder made me look up. The mom from across the aisle was leaning towards me, a tight smile on her face.
“Hi there! I couldn’t help but notice your daughter’s iPad. We’ve decided to be responsible parents and not give our son any screen time this vacation. Would you mind putting that away? It’s making him upset.”
I blinked, stunned by her audacity. “Excuse me?”
“It’s just… it’s not fair to him, you know?”
An annoyed woman sitting in an airplane | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. “I’m sorry, but no. My daughter’s using it to stay calm during the flight.”
The woman’s smile vanished instantly. “Wow, really? You’d rather ruin our family trip than have your daughter take a break from her precious screen?”
“Listen,” I said, my patience wearing thin, “she’s quietly minding her own business. Your son could do the same if you’d brought him something to do.”
An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney
The woman, let’s just call her “Entitled Mom (EM)” was visibly frustrated.
“Some parents just can’t say no to their kids these days. No wonder they all end up spoiled.”
I turned back to my book, hoping that would end the conversation. But I could feel her glare burning into the side of my head.
“Everything okay, Mommy?” Ella asked, momentarily looking up from her show.
“Everything’s fine, sweetie. Just keep watching your cartoons.”
Little girl holding a tablet in an airplane | Source: Pexels
The next hour was tense. The boy’s tantrum escalated, his wails piercing through the cabin noise.
His parents shot us dirty looks every few minutes, as if we were personally responsible for their poor planning.
“I want that!” the boy shrieked, pointing at Ella’s iPad. “It’s not fair!”
His mother leaned over. “I know, honey. Some people are just SELFISH!”
I gritted my teeth, focusing on my book. The words blurred as I tried to block out the chaos around us. Ella remained oblivious, lost in her cartoons.
Grayscale of a sad boy | Source: Pexels
Suddenly, a commotion erupted beside us. Entitled Mom had leaned across the aisle, reaching for her bag. But instead of grabbing her belongings, her arm knocked into Ella’s tray table.
Time seemed to slow as I watched Ella’s iPad slide off the tray. It hit the floor with a sickening crack, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of fractures.
Ella’s scream cut through the air. “Mommy, my iPad!”
A tablet with a shattered screen | Source: Midjourney
Entitled Mom’s face lit with fake surprise. “Oh no! I didn’t mean to do that! So clumsy of me!”
But I saw the glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. This was NO ACCIDENT.
“What is wrong with you?” I hissed.
She shrugged, not even trying to hide her smugness. “These things happen. Maybe it’s a sign she needs less screen time.”
Two women arguing | Source: Midjourney
I was about to unleash a torrent of words that would make a sailor blush when a flight attendant appeared.
“Is everything alright here?” she asked, eyeing the shattered iPad.
Entitled Mom’s act kicked into high gear. “Oh, it was just a terrible accident. I feel awful!”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the flight attendant cut me off with a sympathetic smile.
“I’m so sorry about your device, ma’am. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do mid-flight. Please let us know if you need anything else.”
A flight attendant smiling | Source: Midjourney
As she walked away, I turned to comfort my distraught daughter, knowing this battle was far from over. But it seemed karma had other plans.
With Ella’s iPad out of commission, the boy’s tantrum reached new heights. He bounced in his seat, kicked the chair in front of him, and yanked on the tray table.
“Sweetie, please settle down,” Entitled Mom pleaded.
“I’m bored! This is the worst trip ever!”
A little boy covering his eye | Source: Pexels
I watched from the corner of my eye, torn between sympathy for the child and a petty sense of satisfaction at Entitled Mom’s struggle.
Ella tugged on my sleeve, her eyes still watery. “Mommy, can you fix it?”
I hugged her close. “I’m sorry, sweetie. We’ll have to get it looked at when we land. How about we read a book instead?”
A little girl crying in an airplane | Source: Midjourney
As I reached into my bag for another book, chaos erupted across the aisle.
The boy, in a fit of hyperactivity, had knocked over Entitled Mom’s coffee cup. The dark liquid spread across her lap and splashed into her open handbag.
“No, no, no!” she cried, frantically trying to save her belongings.
In her haste to rescue her bag, something fell out and landed on the floor. Yikes! It was a small blue booklet. I took a closer look and gasped. It was her PASSPORT!
Coffee spilling from a cup | Source: Midjourney
Before anyone could react, her son’s foot came down on the fallen document, grinding it into the coffee-soaked carpet.
God, you should’ve seen Entitled Mom’s face. It was EPIC!
She snatched up the passport, but the damage was done. The pages were soaked through, stuck together in a soggy mess. The cover was warped beyond recognition. It looked like a water-logged, soggy piece of toast.
A startled woman | Source: Pexels
“Ma’am?” A flight attendant approached. “Is that your passport?”
Entitled Mom nodded, speechless for once.
“I’m so sorry, but I have to inform you that a damaged passport could cause serious issues when we land. Especially if you’re traveling internationally.”
Entitled Mom’s eyes widened in panic. She turned to her husband, seeking a way out. “What are we going to do? Our connecting flight to Paris leaves in three hours!”
Side view of a flight attendant | Source: Midjourney
Her husband shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe we can explain at customs?”
As they bickered, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of malevolence.
As the plane began its descent, Entitled Mom was frantically dabbing at her ruined passport with tissues, muttering under her breath. Her son, exhausted from his earlier tantrums, had finally fallen asleep.
An anxious man | Source: Midjourney
I leaned over to Ella, who was reading her storybook with a big smile. “Great job, sweetie! You’re a real bookworm!”
She beamed at me, her earlier distress over the iPad forgotten. “Can we bake cupcakes when we get home, Mommy?”
“Absolutely,” I promised, ruffling her hair. “And maybe we can bake some cookies too!”
A soft whimper from across the aisle drew my attention. Entitled Mom was on the phone, her eyes brimming with panic.
Grayscale of a woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, I understand it’s last minute, but we need to reschedule our entire trip. No, we can’t make the connecting flight. Because… because my passport is ruined.”
I couldn’t help but overhear as she explained the situation, detailing how she’d have to go through the process of getting an emergency passport before they could continue their journey.
As we began to taxi to our gate, Entitled Mom caught my eye as we stood to disembark.
An anxious woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of remorse in her eyes. But then her son started whining again, and the moment passed.
“Ready to go, Ella?” I asked, helping her gather her things.
“Can we get ice cream at the airport, Mommy?”
“I think we deserve a little treat, don’t you think?!” I laughed.
A boy opening his mouth | Source: Pexels
As we made our way off the plane, I couldn’t help but reflect on the bizarre turn of events. What had started as a simple two-hour flight had turned into a lesson in karma, patience, and the unpredictability of travel.
I glanced back one last time to see Entitled Mom still frantically trying to salvage her ruined passport. It was a grim reminder that our actions, good or bad, often have unexpected consequences.
A frustrated woman holding her head | Source: Pexels
Turns out, it wasn’t just Ella’s iPad that got ruined on that flight. Entitled Mom ended up losing something much more valuable!
As we walked hand in hand towards the baggage claim, I squeezed Ella’s fingers, thankful for the perspective this chaotic flight had given me. Sometimes, the best lessons come from the worst experiences.
Have you ever encountered a nightmare neighbor on a flight? Share your own flight horror stories in the comments!
Lady with a little girl leaving an airport | Source: Midjourney
Here’s another story: An entitled rich man mocks a poor boy shining shoes in an underpass. He learns a brutal lesson the very next day.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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