Slapping the Face of My Husband and the Evil Mother-in-law

The Monster-in-Law and Mama's Boy revealed their true colors.

When my baby was eight months old, my mother-in-law encouraged him to hit me, chirping, "Mommy's bad. Hit mommy."

That lit a fire in me. I leaned in to pick him up, but she quickly grabbed his hand and smacked me across the face with it.

She smirked at me triumphantly.

I spun around and slapped my husband hard across the face, who had just been standing there watching the show.

*****

We started teaching our baby, Alex Sullivan, how to roll over when he was three months old.

Alex hadn't managed it yet, but we weren't in a rush considering his age.

One day, while Alex was on his play mat, I just turned my head for a second and his grandma, Margaret Sullivan, pushed him, making him roll over.

The sudden move scared Alex so much he started crying loudly.

My heart ached for him. I scooped him up to comfort him and turned to Margaret. "Why would you push him like that? He needs to learn on his own."

Margaret just scoffed at my worry. "Chill out. Do you think I'd hurt my own grandson?"

Her dismissive attitude made me even angrier, and I couldn't help arguing back. "That's not how you help a baby grow.

What if you had hurt him?"

Margaret glanced at her son, Lorenzo, who was absorbed in his phone. And with a boost from his presence, she raised her voice. "Lillian, who are you to tell us what to do? You're an outsider. I raised Lorenzo just fine this way."

Before I could fire back, Lorenzo came over, trying to smooth things over, clearly siding with his mother.

Seeing Margaret's smug face and Lorenzo's indifference just broke my heart.

Lorenzo and I were high school classmates.

We had always liked each other. After we both graduated from a popular university program in the provincial capital, we rekindled our romance at a class reunion. We could have landed well-paying jobs in the capital, but Lorenzo was set on returning home.

"I have to go back to our hometown. My mom raised me by herself, and I owe it to her to take care of her," Lorenzo had insisted.

His dedication to his mother was one of the reasons I fell so deeply in love with him.

My parents were totally against me moving so far away. Tears in my eyes, I defended Lorenzo, "He's so good to his mom. Why can't you trust him with me?

It seems like you just want to keep me close to control me."

I wasn't an only child. I always felt my parents favored my brother, Derek Grant, which made me see most things as them preferring sons over daughters.

My stance deeply hurt my parents.

After moving to Lorenzo's hometown, he quickly got a job at a state-owned enterprise. Meanwhile, I scrambled to find anything, ending up as a low-level admin assistant due to the lack of better jobs locally.

Margaret never missed a chance to put me down, always lacing her comments with sarcasm.

"I never had Lillian's luck," she'd scoff. "She has no real skills, but boy, can she pick men."

While I was washing dishes, I'd overhear Margaret bad-mouthing me to Lorenzo. "Lorenzo, remember Amanda? Her daughter is a teacher now. Both Amanda and her husband have solid jobs in state companies. You're stuck with Lillian. Too bad you missed out on someone like Amanda's daughter.

Lillian just threw herself at you because she's desperate."

Her words would often leave me sobbing in the kitchen.

Thinking back, Lorenzo wasn't well-off and he was preparing for exams, so I didn't press him for a dowry. And we had a quick, simple wedding.

Lorenzo used to defend me at first. But once he started moving up at work and I was unfairly fired for being pregnant, his mama's boy traits started to really show.

During my second month of pregnancy, the sleepiest time, Margaret would barge into our bedroom every early morning, flipping on the lights. "Lorenzo, get up. Breakfast is ready."

She never cared about how I felt.

Trying to keep my cool, I'd argue with her, but she'd look at my belly and snap, "Don't think you're anything special because you're pregnant. If you have a useless daughter, don't blame me if I kick you out."

Lorenzo hinted at finding out the baby's gender. "Mom's had it rough. She just wants a grandson. We ought to make her happy, right?"

I stood firm. "If you insist on checking the baby's gender, we're getting a divorce. And I won't keep the baby either. It's your decision."

We were newlyweds then, and despite everything, Lorenzo was educated enough to understand the severity of my words. We dropped the subject.

Margaret pretended to agree with Lorenzo but treated me worse than ever behind his back.

As my due date neared, my parents tried to come by train to help, but last-minute problems kept them away.

I was recovering from childbirth in the coldest part of winter. Lorenzo was away on business, and Margaret didn't lift a finger to help, not even washing a single diaper.

With Lorenzo not around, Margaret, pinching pennies, wouldn't even heat up water.

I had to drag myself out of bed to wash diapers in cold water, fresh out of a C-section. That left me with lasting health problems.