My Husband’s Parents Invited Us to a Family Barbecue, but It Clashed with the Mountain of Homework We’d Been Assigned—Yet That Wasn’t the Only Reason We Chose to Go

It all kicked off on a sunny Sunday morning at 7amyes, you read that right, SEVEN. Melissa and her husband had been out on the town the night before, rolled home at some indecent hour, and were fully invested in some much-needed lie-in. But peace, as it so often does, made a hasty exit when the phone started ringing. It was Melissas mother-in-law, chirpily inviting them to the village for a barbecue. Despite their feeble protests (and Melissas best attempts to fake a cold), her mother-in-law pressed on, assuring them shed already marinated a mountain of meat suitable for a royal feast. Resistance, sadly, was futilethey caved and agreed.

But the guest list wasnt ending there. Not only were the in-laws in attendance, but also her brother-in-law and his brand-new wife. While Melissa and her husband were three years into marriage (and, to be fair, still learning each others coffee orders), the newlyweds had only tied the knot two months prior and, crucially, neither couple had any children. Every family gathering became a stealthy game of Whos next? but thats another story.

A full year spent sharing a roof with Melissas mother-in-law had taught her all the essentials of the womans charactermainly that she could give Scrooge a run for his money, and she never missed an opportunity to complain about her bank balance. Eventually, to preserve their sanity (and hot water bills), Melissa and her industrious husband moved into a rented flat, and then Melissas parents glided into the grannys inherited flat, thus freeing the young couple from the terrifying grip of a lifetime mortgage.

The long-awaited day of the barbecue arrived, and the pair set off for the two-hour trek to the countryside. On arrival, however, it suddenly became clear that barbecue was actually code for free family labour. They were promptly put to work, mending a fence, planting a few hopeful herbs, and pampering the poor, neglected petunias. Meanwhile, Melissas mother-in-law, despite looking half-faint from lack of lunch, soldiered on with the chores, leaving the promised barbecue firmly on the backburner.

Tempers began to simmer (unlike any actual sausages). When Melissas husband finally declared his hunger and impatience, a classic family row erupted, starring his mother in Act I. By the time evening crawled to the door and the barbecue eventually materialised, the spread on the table was, well, sparse: two sausages each and not so much as a potato salad in sight. No one left the table particularly happy; in fact, most left plotting their next meal.

The experience left a slightly burnt tastefiguratively, not literally. If only the mother-in-law had been honest about needing extra hands, Melissa and her husband would gladly have rocked up with supplies and done their part, sans drama. Alas, this only added more tension to an already tight family knot.

Fast forward a week, and, as if theyd snapped a rubber band, the phone rang again. Melissas mother-in-law, ever the optimist, tried to coax everyone back for another barbecue. This time, though, the father-in-law took Melissa quietly aside and advised her not to fall for it again. She just wants a free workforce, dear. She wouldnt know a feast if it fell on her head, he confided.

Utterly knackered and not quite up for another round of covert gardening disguised as family bonding, Melissa and her husband took decisive action: the phones and the doorbell went off, and they tucked themselves in for a well-earned, blissfully uneventful Sunday lie-in. Peace, for once, was back on the menu.