Every family has that one relative who treats your house like a resort and never brings so much as a napkin. Mine just happens to bring her entire clan and forgets the part where guests contribute. When they arrived empty-handed again on the 4th of July, I decided to serve something… different.
Hi, I’m Annie, and I’ve discovered that hosting family barbecues is like running a five-star restaurant where the customers never pay or tip, and somehow always leave thinking YOU owe THEM something.
I’ve been married to Bryan for seven years. We’ve got two adorable kids, and until recently, our life was peaceful enough to land a feature in Country Living magazine. That is, until my mother-in-law, Juliette, started showing up with her traveling circus of entitlement.
Picture Agnes Skinner from “The Simpsons” but with less charm and more opinions about my potato salad and cleaning.
Juliette rolls up to our countryside haven with her two daughters and their shrieking offspring like she’s Napoleon returning from exile, ready to conquer my perfectly organized spice rack.
“Annie, darling, we’re coming for Memorial Day!” she announced a few weeks ago, as if bestowing a royal favor. “The kids just adore your ribs!”
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