When my in-laws’ basement apartment flooded, I didn’t hesitate to invite them to stay with us. I thought it would be temporary, just until they found a new place. My wife, Kelly, was skeptical. “Are you sure about this? My family can be… difficult,” she warned. But I wanted to help, so I said, “It’ll be fine, just for a little while.” At first, things seemed manageable. Susan, my mother-in-law, arrived with suitcases and essential oils, Stan, her husband, brought a massive cooler, and Kelly’s siblings, Andrea and Josh, settled into the guest rooms.

We had only two guest rooms, so Andrea and Josh shared the hallway bathroom. It felt crowded but doable. However, it didn’t take long before they started taking over our home. Susan rearranged our kitchen cabinets and spice rack without asking. Stan raided our fridge and complained about what was missing. Josh made sandwiches with our expensive truffle cheese—and ketchup! Andrea used all of our almond milk, honey, and collagen powder to make smoothies.

Snacks disappeared quickly, and they began invading our private space. One day, I found Andrea napping in our bed. When I asked her to move to the guest room, she refused, claiming it was quieter and more comfortable. Josh started using our en suite bathroom, even when the guest bathroom was available. He hosted friends who took over our living room, playing video games on my PS5 and eating pizza.

Susan even dressed our cats in ridiculous costumes to post on Instagram. It felt like we were losing our home. I talked to Kelly, but she didn’t want to upset her family or force them out. I tried helping by sending Susan rental listings, but she broke down in tears, saying we were making them feel unwelcome. The situation worsened. Stan walked around the house in boxer briefs, and Josh’s friends treated our home like a frat house. Kelly and I were stressed and exhausted. I felt like a guest in my own home.

Finally, I decided to take drastic action. I organized a big barbecue and invited all of Kelly’s extended family. After everyone had relaxed, I showed a slideshow on the big screen. It included pictures of Stan in his boxers, Josh playing on my PS5, Andrea sleeping in our bed, and Susan’s cats in costumes.

The embarrassment was palpable. They packed up their things and left that very night. Kelly and I watched the car disappear, relieved but sad. We both agreed we should have set boundaries earlier and communicated better. Now, our home feels peaceful again. This experience taught us the importance of protecting our space and being honest about limits—no matter how much you love family.