When my husband and I decided to move into the larger house on a shared property with his mom, I knew it wouldn’t be the easiest arrangement. My mother-in-law (MIL) had always been a bit overbearing, but I figured that living close by would allow us to help her as she got older and keep our family close-knit. Little did I know that moving in would come with a new set of challenges—especially this latest one.
The property itself is lovely. Two houses, one for us and one for my MIL, separated by a beautiful garden that my husband and I worked on every weekend. Our house is the larger one, perfect for us and our 9-month-old baby, while my MIL has the smaller, cozier house.
At first, there were the usual adjustments. My MIL would pop by unannounced, but after a few awkward moments—like when she walked in on me breastfeeding without so much as knocking—we set some ground rules. She didn’t take it well at first, but eventually, she respected our boundaries, or so we thought.
But three weeks ago, something changed. It started small, just little things I noticed. We’d have friends or family over for dinner, or a group of our baby’s little playmates would come by for an afternoon. Every time we had any kind of group activity, my MIL would do the strangest thing: she’d disappear.
I’m not talking about her staying in her house and keeping to herself—she’d completely vanish. Her car would be gone, and her house would be locked up tight. We’d text or call to check on her, but she wouldn’t respond until hours later, saying she had “some errands to run” or “needed some air.”
At first, I didn’t think much of it. Maybe she just didn’t want to be around the noise or the kids running around. But then, it got even weirder. One evening, we hosted a small dinner party for some of our closest friends. Just as the first guest arrived, I noticed her peeking through her curtains. Then, like clockwork, her front door closed, and her car sped off down the driveway.
It happened again the next weekend when we had my parents over. This time, I tried to catch her before she left, but she was too quick. It was almost like she was waiting for us to start something so she could make her exit.
My husband and I started joking that she was some kind of secret agent with a double life, but the truth was, it began to feel unsettling. Why did she keep running off whenever we had people over? And why didn’t she want to be around when we were hosting?
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. The next time we planned to have people over, I decided to confront her before she had the chance to disappear. I knocked on her door a little earlier than usual and asked if she wanted to join us for dinner. She gave me a strange look and said, “Oh, I didn’t realize you had company tonight. I think I’ll just… go out for a bit.”
“But why? We’d love to have you,” I insisted, hoping to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.
She hesitated, looking down at her feet before finally saying, “It’s not that I don’t want to be here. I just… I don’t want to intrude.”
That took me by surprise. “Intrude? You’re always welcome. You know that.”
She sighed and finally opened up. “It’s just that… whenever you have people over, I feel like I’m getting in the way. I don’t want to be the awkward one who doesn’t really belong. So, I just leave to give you your space.”
I was stunned. All this time, I thought she was avoiding us, but in reality, she was trying to avoid making us uncomfortable. My MIL had always been a bit socially awkward, and it turned out that she didn’t feel comfortable in group settings, especially when she didn’t know everyone well.
I felt a pang of guilt. We had been so focused on setting boundaries and maintaining our privacy that we hadn’t noticed how excluded she felt.
That evening, we did something different. We invited her to stay, but we made it clear that she could come and go as she pleased. My husband even offered to walk her back to her house if she felt like she needed a break. To my surprise, she stayed for most of the evening, sitting quietly at the edge of the group but smiling and laughing at the right moments.
From that day on, things changed. My MIL still had her moments where she needed to retreat, but she stopped disappearing entirely. We learned to include her in our gatherings in a way that made her feel comfortable without overwhelming her.
It turns out that all she needed was a little reassurance that she was still part of the family, even if she wasn’t always at the center of the action. And as for us, we learned that sometimes, the strangest behavior can have the simplest explanation—you just have to ask the right questions.