My Mother-in-Law Moved in with Us After Her House Was Flooded – I Was Shocked When I Discovered Her True Motive

When my mother-in-law moved into our home without warning, I thought it was just about a plumbing issue. Turns out, she had another mission. And let me tell you, her tactics were more relentless than I ever imagined.

I came home that evening after a long, exhausting day, craving nothing more than peace and quiet. But as soon as I opened the door, I knew something was wrong. There were boxes everywhere. My heart skipped a beat.

I dropped my bag by the door, carefully stepping over a pile of shoes, and followed the trail of clutter down the hall. That’s when I saw her. My mother-in-law, Jane, was in the guest room, unpacking like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Clothes were strewn across the bed. Her flowery perfume clung to the air, and photos of her cats had already claimed the nightstand.

“Mom?” My voice was tight, a forced calm. “What’s going on?”

Without so much as glancing in my direction, she waved a hand, casually saying, “Oh, didn’t Joe tell you? My house had a little ‘incident.’ Pipes burst and flooded the whole place. I’ll be staying here for a while until it’s sorted.”

I blinked. Flooding? That didn’t sound right. She lived in a freshly renovated house, nothing but top-tier everything. I hadn’t heard a single complaint about it until now.

Before I could even begin to process, Joe appeared behind me. He looked guilty, eyes darting anywhere but at me. “Yeah… about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly shifting his weight. “Mom’s gonna stay with us for a bit. Just until the house gets fixed.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” I asked, my glare piercing.

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s only for a little while, babe. You and Mom get along, right?”

Get along? If by “get along,” he meant the passive-aggressive remarks about how we’d been married for six years and still hadn’t given her any grandkids, then sure. We were best friends. But I plastered on a smile, the kind you give when you’re two seconds away from snapping. “Of course. I totally understand.”

Hours later, after I’d pretended everything was fine, I got up for some water. As I passed the kitchen, I heard them talking in hushed voices.

“You didn’t tell her the real reason, did you?” Jane’s voice was sharp, like a knife slicing through the night.

Joe sighed. “No, Mom. I didn’t.”

“Well,” Jane huffed, “I’m here to keep an eye on things. Married this long with no children… someone’s got to figure out what’s going on. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”

My stomach twisted. This wasn’t about pipes. She was here to snoop. To pressure me about kids. To “handle” me. I stood frozen in the hallway, blood boiling. What the hell had I just walked into?

The next morning, I woke up with a plan. If Jane wanted to play her little game, I’d play mine. But I wasn’t going to get into a battle of wits with her. No, I was going to kill her with kindness. By 8 a.m., I had already started phase one of my “operation.”

I cleared out our entire master bedroom. Every piece of clothing, every picture frame, every trace of Joe and me was stuffed into the tiny guest room. I even found Jane’s favorite floral bedspread from the back of the linen closet and spread it over the bed like I was preparing a five-star hotel suite.

When I was done, I stood in the doorway, surveying my work. The bedspread was pristine, her cat pictures were lined up on the dresser, and to top it off, I made a “Welcome to Your New Home” basket. Bath bombs, lavender-scented candles, fancy chocolates.

By the time Joe got home from work, I was already sitting in the cramped guest room, arranging our clothes into whatever space I could find. He walked in, his forehead creased with confusion. “Why are you in here?” He peeked around the corner. “Where’s our stuff?”

“Oh, I moved everything,” I said, turning to him with the sweetest smile I could muster. “Your mom deserves the master bedroom, don’t you think? It’s only fair. She needs the space more than we do.”

His eyes widened in disbelief. “You… gave her our bedroom?”

“Of course,” I said with a grin. “She’s family, after all. We’ll be just fine in here.”

Joe stood there, mouth half open, processing what I’d done. But what could he say? Jane was his mother, and I wasn’t technically doing anything wrong. He sighed and walked out of the room without another word.

For the next few days, I made sure Jane was living like royalty. Fresh towels every morning, little snacks placed on the nightstand, and those lavender candles I knew she loved.

She wandered around the house like she owned the place, smiling at me like she’d won. But while Jane was lounging in luxury, Joe was starting to crack. Sharing the guest room was driving him nuts. Not just the lack of space, but his mom’s new obsession with prepping him for fatherhood.

Every morning, without fail, she’d hand him a schedule of vitamins.

“You need to take these, Joe,” she’d say, thrusting a multivitamin at him. “It’s important to get your body ready if you want healthy kids.”

Joe would roll his eyes but take the pills just to keep her quiet.

It didn’t stop there. “Should you really be watching TV at night?” she’d ask over dinner. “That’s not very baby-friendly. You should be reading parenting books. Or exercising. And no more video games! You need to mature, Joe. Fatherhood is serious.”

By day four, I found Joe sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at a stack of parenting books his mom had ordered online.

“I think I’m losing it,” he muttered, holding up a book titled “What To Expect When You’re Expecting.” “She expects me to read this.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, Joe,” I said, suppressing a laugh, “you did say we’d be just fine, didn’t you?”

It was relentless. Jane had taken things up a notch. One evening, she handed Joe a neatly typed list of “fertility-boosting” foods. Kale, quinoa, grilled salmon—no more burgers, no more pizza. She smiled sweetly as if she was doing him the world’s greatest favor.

“Your future kids will thank you,” she chirped.

Joe stared at the list like it was a death sentence. “Wait, no pizza? Ever?”

“That’s right, dear,” she said, patting his shoulder. “I’ve planned all your meals for the week. You’ll feel so much better once you start eating clean.”

That night at dinner, we sat around the table eating dry salmon and tasteless kale. Jane watched Joe like a hawk, her eyes flicking from his plate to his face. He shifted uncomfortably, picking at his food.

“Joe,” she started, “did you take your vitamins this morning?”

He sighed, stabbing a fork into the kale. “Yeah, Mom. I took them.”

“And what about the gym? Did you make time for that? You know, you’ve put on a little weight. It’s important to be in shape if you want to be a good father.”

I couldn’t help it. I kicked him under the table to stop myself from bursting out laughing. He shot me a look, his expression torn between frustration and desperation. After days of this, it was finally getting to him.

Later that night, once Jane had gone to bed, Joe turned to me, rubbing his temples. His voice was low, almost pleading. “I can’t do this anymore, Tiana. The guest room, the vitamins, the baby talk… I’m going insane.”

I bit my lip, trying to suppress a smile. “You have to admit,” I said, failing to keep the amusement out of my voice, “it’s kind of funny.”

His eyes narrowed. “It’s not funny.”

I let out a small laugh. “Okay, okay, it’s a little funny.”

Joe groaned and collapsed onto the bed. “I booked her a room at the hotel down the street. I can’t take another day of this.”

The next morning, he broke the news at breakfast.

“Mom, I’ve booked you a nice hotel nearby until the repairs at your house are done. You’ll be much more comfortable there.”

She blinked, clearly surprised. “But I’m perfectly fine here! And besides, isn’t it time you two got serious about giving me grandkids?”

Joe’s jaw clenched. “Mom, we’ll decide that when we’re ready. For now, the hotel is best for everyone.”

For a moment, Jane just stared at him. Then, realizing she had no leg to stand on, she reluctantly nodded. “Well… if you insist.”

By the end of the day, she was gone. The house was ours again.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Joe collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh of relief. “Finally.”

I grinned, sinking down beside him. “So… kale for dinner?”

He groaned. “Never again.”

‘DWTS’ star, mocked as orphan for spotty skin, dies at 29, – adoptive mom dies next day

The ballet world is mourning the death of Dancing with the Stars Michaela Mabinty DePrince, an inspirational ballerina who beat staggering odds to become one of the world’s most famous dancers.

Michaela, an orphan from war-torn Sierra Leone, was a dancer with the Boston Ballet who gained widespread notoriety after starring in the 2011 documentary First Position. She died September 10 at only 29.

Adding to the family’s tragic loss, Michaela’s adoptive mom – who rescued Michaela from the filthy shelter where she was told she was “too ugly” to find a family – died only 24 hours later.

After her father was brutally killed in war-torn Sierra Leone and her mother died from fever, four-year-old Michaela Mabinty DePrince was abandoned by her uncle in a shelter where staff every day tried to break her spirit.

Known then as “Number 27” a young Michaela had little hope of finding a family as she had vitiligo, a condition that causes patches of skin to lose pigmentation.

The young girl, called “the devil child” because of her patchy skin, was told repeatedly that she was too ugly to be picked.

“We were all ranked from the most favored to the least, and I was at the very bottom for being rebellious and having a skin condition called vitiligo, which produces white freckles on my neck and chest,” Michaela said, adding she slept on a grass sleeping mat with “Number 26.”

Aside from the vomit-stained nightgown she was wearing, all she had was a magazine, which according to Glamour had (literally) blown onto her face. And on the cover was a ballerina en pointe – a dancer supporting all her body weight on the tips of her toes.

“The dancer looked beautiful and happy, that’s what caught my eye,” Michaela tells Glamour. “I wanted to be happy.”

And the crumpled old photo of the ballerina was the first thing she handed Elaine DePrince, who took her to her new home in New Jersey.

“There was so much love right away,” said Michaela, who over the next two decades would be the prima ballerina on the cover of magazines. “I had never been surrounded by something like that.”

‘My life is proof’

Michaela’s passion for dancing was ignited at a young age, and she pursued her dreams with remarkable dedication.

In 2011, Michaela became one of the stars of First Position, a documentary that followed six gifted dancers leading up to the competition for a place in the prestigious American Ballet Theatre’s Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School of Ballet (JKO)

She not only earned a spot but was also awarded a scholarship to study at JKO.

The same year the award-winning documentary was released, Michaela also appeared on Dancing with the Stars.

“My life is proof that no matter what situation you’re in, as long as you have a supportive family, you can achieve anything,” Michaela said.

In 2012, the talented ballerina joined the renowned Dance Theatre of Harlem, where she continued to shine as a rising star. Her exceptional talent and grace later led her to the Dutch National Ballet, where the War Child Ambassador further established herself as a formidable presence in the ballet world.

While she was living in Amsterdam and training for The Nutcracker, she received a call, inviting her to travel to New Orleans and dance in Beyonce’s hour-long video, Lemonade, which was released in 2016.

Speaking with the Wall Street Journal of meeting the pop sensation, Michaela said, “She walked up to me and said, ‘It’s such an honor to have you here.’ I was really cheesy and said, ‘The honor is mine.’ I was on cloud nine.”

‘Beacon of hope’

On September 10, her family released a heartbreaking message about the principal soloist with the Boston Ballet.

“Rest in Power,” the post starts about the dancer who died on September 10. “With pain in our hearts, we share the loss of star ballerina Michaela Mabinty DePrince, whose artistry touched countless hearts and whose spirit inspired many, leaving an indelible mark on the world of ballet, and beyond.”

The Facebook post describes Michaela as an inspiration who “stood as a beacon of hope for many, showing that no matter the obstacles, beauty and greatness can rise from the darkest of places.”

The cause of her death has not yet been released.

Mom ‘spared the pain’

Only 24 hours after Michaela’s sudden death, her doting adoptive mom Elaine DePrince died on September 11 “during a routine procedure in preparation for a surgery.”

A family statement on Facebook explains that at the time of Elaine’s death, she was unaware that her daughter had died.

 “As unbelievable as it may seem, the two deaths were completely unrelated. The only way we can make sense of the senseless is that Elaine, who had already lost three children many years ago, was by the grace of God spared the pain of experiencing the loss of a fourth child.” The message continues, “What the family is going through right now is truly unimaginably painful. Grieving two family members who died within a 24-hour period is tragic and devastating. We continue to ask for privacy…”

Rest in peace Michaela and Elaine. Please share your thoughts with us and then share this story so we can all send a lot of love to the family and friends of this mother-daughter duo.

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