I Chose Not to Include My Daughter-in-Law on a Family Vacation, and I Believe My Decision Was Justified

But every trip was a reminder of how connected we were and how much we valued this time together. It was a break from our everyday lives, a chance to let loose and just be, at least for some time.

“Mom, do you remember that time at the beach house when Kayla fell off the dock?” Evelyn would laugh, nudging her sister.

“Don’t remind me!” Kayla groaned, but she couldn’t help smiling. “I still can’t believe you all left me in the water like that.”

“We didn’t leave you, sweetheart. We were laughing too hard to pull you out,” I would tease, shaking my head.

These moments were precious, and I held onto them fiercely. But things started to change when Liam, my only son, got married to Beth.

Beth was sweet when they first met. Quiet, reserved, but kind-hearted. I was genuinely happy for them, and when they got married, I welcomed her into our family with open arms. Naturally, I invited her to join us on our girls’ trips. I wanted her to feel included, to be a part of our little tradition. It felt right at the time.

At first, Beth fit in well enough. She was always polite, maybe a little shy, but I thought she’d warm up eventually. She wasn’t as chatty as my girls, but she seemed to enjoy the trips. We all tried to make her feel comfortable.

“So, Beth,” Kayla asked one afternoon as we sat in a café on one of our trips. “What was it like growing up in Maine? I’ve always wanted to visit.”

Beth smiled softly, twirling the straw in her iced coffee. “It was nice. Quiet. Not much to do in my town, but the summers were beautiful.”

The conversation felt a bit forced, but we all chalked it up to Beth needing time to adjust. She’d become part of our family, and I wanted her to feel like she belonged.

But after Beth gave birth to her son, Lucas, things changed. She gained a lot of weight during pregnancy, which isn’t unusual. However, eight years later, she still hadn’t lost the baby weight.

I noticed how much it was affecting her, not just physically but in the way she moved and interacted with us. It was becoming harder to include her in our trips.

One day, we were out shopping. It was supposed to be a fun, lighthearted afternoon, just like old times. We’d hit the mall, grabbed lunch, and made our way through the stores, chatting and laughing. But Beth kept falling behind.

I glanced back and saw her sitting on a bench near the entrance of a department store. She looked exhausted, wiping the sweat from her brow. “You guys go ahead,” she said, breathing heavily. “I’ll catch up.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at me, trying to hide her frustration. “Mom, do we need to wait again?”

I sighed. “Let’s just give her a few minutes.”

But those few minutes turned into long stretches of waiting. We’d walk ahead, browse through the racks, and eventually circle back to find Beth still sitting there. It was becoming a pattern — and not just on that day. Every trip we went on, we had to slow down, stop more often, and accommodate her.

By the time we left the mall that day, the mood had shifted. What was supposed to be a carefree afternoon felt strained, and my girls were clearly frustrated.

“Mom, I hate to say it, but these trips aren’t the same anymore,” Kayla said as we loaded the shopping bags into the car.

“I know,” I replied, running a hand through my hair. “I just… I don’t want to leave her out.”

Evelyn nodded, her face softening. “We get it. But we can’t keep doing this. It’s not fair to us either.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I knew they were right. The truth was, Beth’s presence had begun to change the dynamic of our trips, and not for the better.

We were holding back, compromising our enjoyment to accommodate her. And it wasn’t just about walking slower or sitting more. It felt like the whole energy of our outings was different.

The tipping point came when we started planning our annual trip to the pumpkin patch and apple orchard. It’s a tradition we’ve had for years — my favorite time of the year.

The fall colors, the smell of apples in the air, the laughter as we wandered through the orchard picking fruit. It was something we all looked forward to.

As we sat around the kitchen table, Evelyn looked up from her phone. “So, are we inviting Beth this year?”

I hesitated. We all knew what that would mean. Long breaks, slow walks, and probably missing out on some of the things we enjoyed most about the trip.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I finally said, my voice low. “It’s a lot of walking, and… well, you know.”

Kayla sighed with relief. “I’m glad you said it, Mom. It’s been hard with her.”

“We haven’t had a proper girls’ day in so long,” Lauren added, looking at her sisters. “I miss the way things used to be.”

The truth was staring me in the face, and there was no avoiding it.
That’s when I made the decision not to invite Beth. It wasn’t easy, but I told myself it was for the best. My daughters deserved a day to relax and enjoy themselves without constantly having to adjust to Beth’s limitations.

The day of the trip came, and it was perfect. The weather was crisp, the leaves were golden and red, and we spent the entire day walking through the orchard, picking apples, and laughing.

We didn’t have to stop or slow down. It was like the old days, just me and my girls. I even posted a few pictures on Facebook, not thinking much of it.

But later that night, my phone rang. It was Beth.

I took a deep breath before answering. “Hi, Beth.”

“Lilian, I saw the pictures on Facebook,” she said, her voice tense. “Why wasn’t I invited?”

I felt my stomach drop. I knew this conversation was coming, but I wasn’t prepared. “Oh, it was just a small trip,” I stammered. “Nothing big.”

“But I’m family,” Beth said, her voice rising. “Why didn’t you invite me?”

There it was. The question I had been dreading. I could’ve lied, made up some excuse, but what would be the point? The truth was staring me in the face, and there was no avoiding it.

“Beth,” I said softly, trying to choose my words carefully. “It’s not that we don’t want you there. It’s just… well, the walking. You’ve needed a lot of breaks, and it’s made it hard for us to enjoy the trips the way we used to.”

Silence hung in the air for what felt like an eternity.

“So, you didn’t invite me because of my weight?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I admitted, guilt washing over me. “It’s been difficult. We’ve had to change the way we do things, and… I didn’t want to say anything, but it’s affected our trips.”

Beth was quiet for a moment, and I could feel the hurt radiating through the phone. “I thought I was part of this family,” she finally said, her voice trembling. “I thought you cared about me.”

“I do care about you, Beth—”

“No, you don’t,” she interrupted. “If you did, you wouldn’t have excluded me like this. You wouldn’t make me feel like an outsider.”

And with that, she hung up. I sat there, staring at the phone, my heart heavy with regret.

Later that night, Liam texted me. “Mom, Beth’s really hurt. You need to apologize.”

I read the text over and over, feeling torn. Should I apologize? Was I wrong to protect this time with my daughters? I wasn’t sure anymore.

The next morning, I talked to the girls. “Do you think I was too harsh?” I asked as we sat around the kitchen table.

“No, Mom,” Evelyn said, shaking her head. “We love Beth, but it’s not fair to us either. Our trips haven’t been the same.”

Kayla nodded. “We just want to enjoy ourselves like we used to. You did the right thing.”

Their reassurance helped, but I couldn’t shake the guilt. I didn’t want to hurt Beth, but I couldn’t ignore the strain her presence had put on our trips.

I’d reached my limit. Maybe I could’ve handled it better, maybe I should’ve been kinder, but the truth was out now.

I still don’t know if I made the right decision. All I wanted was to protect the bond I had with my daughters. But now I wonder if that decision has cost me something far greater.

Do you think I handled it correctly? What would you have done in my place?

A woman ruined an 8-hour flight for fellow travelers – Following the journey, the captain took steps to address her behavior

When James is on his way home after a swimming competition in London, all he wants is to sleep on the flight. But that’s the last thing on the agenda because sitting next to him is a woman who only wants to cause trouble. Eight hours later, the captain teaches her a lesson.

I was already prepared for the flight. I knew that it was going to be a long one. I mean, eight hours from London to New York was not going to be easy, but I had my earplugs, sleeping pills, and a few snacks to keep me going.

I had just wrapped up a grueling swimming competition, and every muscle in my body was crying for some much-needed rest. I was in the middle seat, which wasn’t ideal for my height, but I was too tired to care. The woman next to me, at the window, seemed just as wiped out as I was, and I could see her eyes drooping before we took off.

We exchanged a weary smile before settling into our seats.

It’s okay, James, I thought to myself. You’ll sleep through it all.

But then there was the woman who was going to be the cause of absolute mayhem and discomfort for the next eight hours.

From the moment she sat down next to me, I sensed that she was going to be trouble. She was huffing and puffing and shifting around like she’d been assigned to a seat in the luggage compartment instead of economy.

“Oh boy,” the window-seat woman sighed.

Aisle-seat woman, let’s call her Karen, kept eyeing me up and down, her mouth twisting into a frown.

Look, I’m a tall guy at six foot two. I was used to getting uncomfortable stares in airplanes, but it wasn’t my fault.

The first sign of trouble came when the plane took off. Karen pressed the call button, not once like any rational person, but three times in a row, like she was setting off an alarm.

I almost expected an alarm to sound off in the airplane.

“Ma’am,” the flight attendant asked when we had reached cruising altitude, “how can I help you?”

“This seat is unacceptable!” Karen snapped. Her voice was loud enough to draw attention from the rows around us.

“I’m cramped, and look at these two… people! They’re practically spilling over into my space.”

She shot a look at me, then at the woman at the window, who was staring straight ahead, pretending not to notice.

“I’m sorry, but we’re fully booked today,” the flight attendant replied. “There’s nowhere else for you to move.”

“You mean that there’s not one seat available on this flight? What about business class? Nothing?” she demanded.

“No, ma’am,” the flight attendant said. “There’s nothing available.”

“Then I want them moved,” Karen declared, louder this time. “I paid for this seat just like everyone else here, and it’s not fair that I have to be squished next to them. I can’t even open a packet of chips without bumping into this guy.”

For emphasis, she elbowed me in the arm.

I glanced over at the woman in the window seat, who looked on the verge of tears. My patience was wearing thin, too, and I couldn’t handle this woman when my energy tank was empty.

“Ma’am,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could, “we’re all just trying to get through this flight and get to our destinations. There’s really nothing wrong with the seating arrangements here.”

“Nothing wrong?” Karen barked. “Are you kidding me? Are you blind?”

She continued her rant for what felt like hours. And it was clear she wasn’t going to drop it. I tried to ignore her, but she kept shifting in her seat, kicking my legs, and continuously elbowing my arm.

By the fourth hour, I was cranky and exhausted beyond any other moment in my life. I was done.

“Look,” I said, turning to her as the flight attendant wheeled a cart down the aisle, “we can keep this up for the rest of the flight, or we can try and make the best of a bad situation. Why don’t you watch something on the screen? There are some pretty good movies here.”

But she wasn’t having it at all.

“Why don’t you tell her to go on a diet? And why don’t you learn to book seats that have space for your gigantic legs? Why do you both insist on making my life hell?” Karen hissed.

And the entire time we had been talking, Karen was busy pressing the call button.

I felt my blood boil and watched as the woman sitting next to the window tried to make herself as small as possible.

I could see the flight attendants murmuring amongst themselves, giving Karen dirty looks. If I’m being honest, I was just hoping that one of them would slip her a sedative or something. Finally, a flight attendant came over, looking as upset as I was.

“Ma’am, if you don’t calm down, we’re going to have to ask you to stay seated and not press the call button again, not unless it’s an actual emergency.”

“Oh, this is an emergency!” she shouted. “It’s a human rights violation! My rights are being violated, and everyone is just ignoring that!”

The rest of the flight went on like this, with Karen sighing dramatically, muttering under her breath, and generally making everyone around us miserable.

I just kept my head down and tried to focus on the tiny screen in front of me, tracking our progress home.

When we finally landed, I couldn’t have been any happier if I tried. This nightmare was almost over.

But then, as soon as the wheels touched down, Karen was out of her seat, darting up the aisle as if she was about to miss her connecting flight to Mars. The seatbelt sign was still on, and everyone was sitting patiently, waiting for it to turn off.

But not Karen. No, she was ignoring all the calls from the flight attendants, not even looking back. Soon, she was standing right next to the curtain separating the business-class seats from economy.

The rest of us just watched, too exhausted and frustrated to react.

Then came the captain’s voice over the intercom:

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to New York! We have a special guest onboard today.”

There was a collective groan. What now? Were we supposed to sit there for longer?

“We ask that everyone remain seated as I make my way through the cabin to greet this very special passenger.”

Karen perked up for some reason, her shoulders straightening like she’d just been announced as Miss Universe. She looked around with a self-satisfied smile, as if expecting everyone to applaud her.

When the captain came out of the cockpit, we saw a middle-aged man with a calm demeanor and a tired smile. As he saw Karen, he paused.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said. “I need to get past you to greet our special guest.”

“Oh,” she said, looking surprised. “Of course.”

He continued to make her step back down the aisle until they were almost to our row. It was priceless because although she was complying with him, the confusion growing on her face was clear.

“Maybe you should sit down in your seat,” he said.

The rest of us were watching in stunned silence, catching on to what he was doing. I could feel a smile tugging at my lips. The woman next to me was grinning, too.

Finally, the captain stopped at our row, forcing Karen to move into the row and stand at her seat.

The captain looked up at the seat numbers and grinned to himself before speaking.

“Ah, here we are,” he said, his voice booming through the cabin. “Ladies and gentlemen, our special guest is sitting right here in seat 42C. Can we all give her a round of applause?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then someone started clapping, followed by another, and another. Before long, the whole plane erupted into laughter and applause.

The woman’s face turned bright red. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She just stood there, awkward and humiliated, as the captain took a slight bow and returned to the front.

“That,” I said, leaning back in my seat with a satisfied grin, “was worth the eight hours of this torture.”

The rest of us finally gathered our things and filed out, leaving her to stew in her own embarrassment.

“Jeez,” the woman next to me said. “I’m so glad this is over. I don’t ever want to see that woman again. Maybe we’ll end up next to each other on another flight. Without a Karen this time.”

“Here’s hoping,” I said, and for the first time since the flight started, I genuinely laughed.

What would you have done?

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