I was still healing from a C-section when my entitled sister-in-law turned my home into her personal hotel and drained the money I’d saved for my baby. I stayed quiet longer than I should have, but by the time I drove her to the airport, I had already made sure the last surprise was mine.
By the third day after my C-section, I could do almost everything one-handed.
I could warm a bottle while balancing my newborn, Spencer, against my shoulder. I could slide the laundry basket down the hallway with my foot.
But what I couldn’t do was explain to my sister-in-law why showing up unannounced with three children, two suitcases each, and a husband already complaining was maybe not ideal.
“Oh good, you’re home,” Becca said when I opened the door.
She swept past me like she owned the place. Her husband, Matthew, followed behind her with their kids, Liam, Jonah, and Jessie.
“We’ll stay here,” she called. “Hotels are ridiculous this time of year.”
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