My Husband and 4 Kids Are Constantly Slacking off Their Chores – This Time I Taught Them a Good Lesson
A mother of four was exhausted from doing all the household chores, despite working longer hours than her husband. She repeatedly begged her kids and husband to help out, but her pleas were often ignored. Eventually, she took matters into her own hands and taught them a lesson for slacking off their chores.
An exhausted mother | Source: Pexels
My name is Sarah, and my life is a whirlwind of real estate deals and family responsibilities. My husband, Mark, works at a shipyard, and we juggle raising four kids: 13-year-old twins Emma and Ethan, 12-year-old Lily, and our 8-month-old baby, Mia. We both work around 50-60 hour weeks, and while Mark gets weekends off, I do not.
A man, a baby, and the mother | Source: Pixabay
For years, I enforced a chore system, teaching our kids to contribute to the household. But since Mia was born, everyone’s efforts have dwindled, Mark included. I often come home to find him on the couch, glued to his phone, while the kids are absorbed in video games or makeup tutorials.
A tired mother asking for help | Source: Pexels
The house isn’t dirty, just cluttered, but the state of the kitchen drives me insane. I’ve repeatedly voiced my frustration, sometimes resorting to drastic measures like cutting off the internet, canceling family trips, grounding the kids, and having heated arguments with Mark.
For instance, one weekend, the kitchen was a battlefield once more, the remnants of dinner scattered across the counters and dishes piled high in the sink. I stood at the doorway, my frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
A kitchen sink full of dishes | Source: Pexels
“Mark, I can’t keep doing this,” I began, my voice trembling with pent-up anger. “Every day I come home to the same mess. What do you even do all day?”
Mark looked up from his phone, his expression a mix of annoyance and guilt. “I work too, Sarah. I’m tired when I get home and would love to just rest on the weekends.”
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “And I’m not? I work just as many hours as you, if not more! But somehow, I am the only one who cares about this house being livable.”
A woman confronting a man | Source: Pexels
Mark’s face hardened. “I do my part. But sometimes I need a break too.”
“A break? You think I don’t need a break?” My voice rose, the edge of my tone sharper. “I can’t even cook dinner without washing a sink full of dishes first. The kids have chores, you have chores, but nothing gets done unless I nag everyone. I’m tired of being the bad guy.”
Mark stood up, his own temper flaring now. “I’m sorry I’m not perfect, okay? Maybe if you didn’t make such a big deal out of every little thing, the kids and I wouldn’t feel so stressed.”
A man and woman arguing | Source: Pexels
My eyes flashed. “Oh, so it’s my fault now? If you’d just step up and parent, maybe I wouldn’t have to be the one holding everything together. I’m exhausted, Mark. This isn’t just about dishes. It’s about respect and responsibility.”
The argument continued, our voices echoing through the house, each word a reminder of the growing chasm between us. On that day, he took care of the dishes and organized the house after our intense arguments but my efforts often yielded short-term improvements that quickly faded away.
A messy house | Source: Pexels
So, yesterday was no different as much as I had expected my husband and kids to at least clean the house. Before heading to work, I reminded them, saying, “You guys better have your chores done by the time I get home.” They responded with the usual, “Yes, ma’am.”
After leaving work, I texted Mark around 4:30 p.m. to ask what they wanted for dinner, and I picked up their requests at the grocery store.
I walked into our home to find the same disheartening scene, a sink overflowing with dishes, a wet load of laundry in the washer, Mark lounging on the couch, and the kids in their rooms.
Laundry in the washing machine | Source: Pexels
I set the groceries on the table, packed a bag for Mia, and told Mark, “Have at it. I’m going to Applebee’s.” He looked up in surprise, but I walked out with Mia without another word. About 20 minutes later, he called.
“I washed the dishes. I’m sorry. I was super tired today.”
“You use that excuse all the time. There are three older kids with chores, and you couldn’t even tell them to do anything?” I shot back, my patience worn thin.
Angry woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to work on it. Can you just come home? I don’t know how to make this dish,” he pleaded.
I was tired of him behaving like an inexperienced baby yet he was a grown-up.
“It is a complicated dish but you can Google how to make it or find tutorials on YouTube. So, no. I’m sitting at Applebee’s, enjoying my steak and shrimp with Mia. You and the kids can fend for yourselves. Apology or not, I’m not letting you off the hook this time.”
A frustrated woman | Source: Pexels
He had me on speakerphone, and I could hear the kids in the background, chiming in, “Please grab us something from Applebee’s.”
“Absolutely not,” I said firmly and hung up.
When I returned home, the groceries were put away, and the family had settled for grilled cheese and cereal for dinner. The tension in the air was palpable as Mark and the kids sat at the table, their expressions a mix of frustration and resentment.
A girl eating cereal | Source: Freepik
“Everyone should know that this is how it will be every single time you don’t do your chores,” I stated firmly, standing my ground despite the uncomfortable silence that followed.
Mark looked up, his eyes tired but defiant. “Sarah, we get it. But was it really necessary to leave like that? You could have just told us to get it done, and we would have.”
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “I have told you. Over and over again. And nothing changes. I’m tired of being the only one who cares enough to do something about it.”
A couple in disagreement | Source: Pexels
Emma, one of the twins, looked down at her plate, pushing her food around. “Mom, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to make you so upset.”
Lily, the 12-year-old, chimed in, her voice small. “We didn’t think it was such a big deal. We thought you’d just remind us again.”
The sad twin looking down at her plate | Source: Pexels
I felt a pang of guilt but pushed it aside. “It is a big deal. It’s not just about the dishes. It’s about all of us taking responsibility for our home. I need to know that when I come home, I’m not walking into more work yet all you have been doing is sitting around.”
Mark leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “I understand that, Sarah. But maybe we can find a better way to handle this. Storming out isn’t the answer.”
The man at the dining | Source: Pexels
My frustration bubbled up again. “I’ve tried talking, Mark. I’ve tried asking nicely, reminding, and even nagging. Nothing sticks. I needed to show you all that I’m serious.”
He sighed, looking at the kids, then back at me. “Alright. We’ll do better. But can we also agree to talk things through before they get to this point?”
Husband and wife reconciling | Source: Pexels
I nodded, feeling a mix of relief and lingering anger. “Yes, but only if everyone truly steps up. I can’t do this alone.”
The kids nodded solemnly, and Mark reached across the table to take my hand. “We’ll make it work, Sarah. We’ll all try harder.”
A happy household | Source: Pexels
As I stood there, watching my family, I couldn’t help but reflect on the day’s events. Had I gone too far? Maybe. But something had to give. I hoped this would be the wake-up call they needed. Only time would tell if the message had finally sunk in.
Our Stepdad Gifted My Mom a Pack of Toilet Paper for Her Birthday — Our Revenge on Him Was Harsh
My stepdad always made a big deal about being the “man of the house,” but when his “special gift” for my mom’s birthday turned out to be a pack of toilet paper, I decided it was time for payback. And let’s just say someone else ended up desperately needing that present.
My stepfather, Jeff, loved reminding us he was the breadwinner of the house throughout our entire childhood. Anytime we sat down to dinner, he’d start with his usual spiel.
A man lauhing at a dinning table | Source: Midjourney
“You’re lucky I keep this roof over your heads,” he’d say and chortle. He also said it all the time while leaning back on his worn-out recliner. It was his favorite thing in the world.
My mom, Jane, always nodded along. She was the kind of woman who avoided conflict at any cost. She wasn’t raised in the 1950s, but her upbringing had been different from ours. Staying quiet had become almost an art form for her.
As her kids, my siblings (Chloe, Lily, and Anthony) and I could see that she desperately wanted to speak up but didn’t. Meanwhile, we surely didn’t consider him “the king of the castle” or a “real man,” which were other phrases Jeff used to describe himself.
A woman at a dinning table | Source: Midjourney
Yes, he paid all the bills while we were growing up, and we were thankful. But that wasn’t an excuse to treat our mother like a servant and think he was better than the rest of us.
We had tried for years to get Mom to leave him to no avail.
Eventually, we all moved out of their house as we reached adulthood, but my sisters and I continued to visit Mom often. Anthony lived on the other side of the country, but he checked in every other day.
A man on the phone | Source: Midjourney
Still, we worried about her.
I felt that our visits weren’t enough to truly know what was going on in that house. I often sat alone in my apartment and wondered if Mom would ever leave this man and if there was something he could do to finally make her snap out of her proverbial shackles.
Yes, this is where it gets good.
This year, Jeff simply went too far. For days leading up to Mom’s birthday, he wouldn’t stop bragging about the “special gift” he’d picked out for her.
A man on a reclining chair | Source: Midjourney
“This one’s going to knock her socks off,” he said over dinner at their house, grinning like a buffoon.
I wanted to believe him. Maybe he had finally decided to treat her with the respect she deserved. But deep down, I knew better. Jeff was Jeff, and people like him never changed.
My mom’s birthday arrived, and of course, my sisters and I were there, sitting in the living room. Jeff had a twinkle in his eyes, and I knew Mom had hope in hers.
Three sisters with presents in their hands | Source: Midjourney
After she opened our presents, my stepdad handed her a huge, beautifully wrapped package. He was smiling, and my mom’s face lit up as she carefully untied the ribbon.
“Oh, Jeff, you didn’t have to,” she said softly.
“Yes, I did. Go on. Open it,” he urged, leaning forward in his chair.
She unwrapped the box slowly, savoring the moment… until she saw what was inside— toilet paper. 12-pack. Four-ply. Jumbo rolls.
A woman smiling with a big present | Source: Midjourney
Mom blinked in confusion.
“It’s so soft. Just like you!” Jeff declared, slapping his knee and cackling. “And look, four-ply, to represent your four kids. Perfect, right?”
Mom let out a nervous laugh, but I could see her eyes glistening. My sisters and I exchanged a look. This wasn’t just a bad joke; it was cruel.
We’d had enough. We had to do something.
A woman looking angry | Source: Midjourney
***
Two days later, our plan began to take shape. Jeff loved two things: being the “big man” and free food. So, we invited him to a “family dinner” at the Chinese restaurant he always raved about.
Chloe, my youngest sibling, was the one who planted the idea.
“We’ll do it in his favorite place. He won’t suspect a thing,” she said, smirking.
Lily, being the eldest and most practical, raised an eyebrow. “And what happens after?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Chloe replied. “We’ll handle it.”
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
We set the date and made sure to hype it up, so Jeff wouldn’t miss it.
“Dinner’s on us this time,” Chloe told him sweetly
Jeff puffed out his chest. “Well, it’s about time someone else paid for once. I’m glad that being out of the house has finally opened your eyes to how great you fared because of me!”
We rolled our eyes internally.
The restaurant was bustling that night. Shiny red lanterns hung from the ceiling, giving the space a nice reddish glow.
Chinese restaurant | Source: Midjourney
The food from other tables smelled delicious, and I could tell Jeff was hungry as we sat down at our table.
“When are your mom and Lily getting here?” he asked, wrinkling his nose toward the front door.
“Don’t worry. They’ll be here soon. How about we order food anyway?” I suggested, nodding towards Chloe.
She agreed and started rattling off things she wanted, things we specifically planned to order: Szechuan beef, Kung Pao chicken, and the spiciest mapo tofu on the menu.
Chinese menu | Source: Midjourney
Jeff ordered his usual, but I knew what we had in mind would still work.
Each dish came out looking like a masterpiece of fiery reds and deep browns, garnished with fresh herbs and enough chili to make a grown man cry.
Chloe’s eyes twinkled as the waiter finished arranging everything on the table.
“Jeff, you can handle spicy, right?” she asked, pretending to be concerned.
A woman smiling at Chinese restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Jeff stayed silent for a second, stumped, then nodded quickly. “I didn’t realize you gals wanted to share everything. Of course, I can eat anything. Nothing is ever too spicy for a real man.”
I chimed in with, “Be careful with these, though. They’re pretty hot.”
I just knew my words would make him mad.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Amelia,” Jeff scoffed and took his chopsticks to skewer a piece of beef straight into his mouth.
A man looking serious at a Chinese restaurant | Source: Midjourney
At first, he gave out an exaggerated moan, to “prove his manliness,” but soon, his face turned redder than the lanterns above us. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he chewed and breathed through his nose.
“Everything alright?” Chloe asked, again faking worry.
“Yes, yes,” he lied through his full mouth. “This is good stuff.”
I was sure Jeff wouldn’t grab more after gulping down an entire glass of Coke, but Chloe and I began eating in earnest.
“Oh, it’s not so spicy after all,” Chloe commented, smiling sugary-sweet. She was baiting him.
A woman smiling with chopsticks in her hand | Source: Midjourney
I nodded, grabbing more.
Not to be outdone, Jeff began to eat more. He was breathing roughly now, but when we asked if he was alright, he simply said, “This really clears the sinuses, gals.”
Still, his fingers went up and snapped at the waiter to bring him more Coke.
Chloe leaned over and whispered, “He’s going to feel that later.”
“Oh, definitely,” I whispered back, grinning conspiratorially.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
***
While Jeff was busy showing off his “macho” tolerance for heat, Mom and Lily were busy back at the house with a rented U-Haul and movers.
They worked quickly to load up Mom’s belongings, such as clothes, keepsakes, her favorite chair, and even the toaster. I told them to take the things Mom had given Jeff over the years by saving up when she could: the recliner and his specialty tools.
A truck and workers loading boxes | Source: Midjourney
But the pièce de résistance was Chloe telling them to remove every single roll of toilet paper in the house.
***
Jeff was still red when we left the restaurant, and he was grumbling about Mom and Lily being no-shows. So I just suggested going to the house to see if anything had happened.
When we arrived, everything was ready. The truck had already left. Meanwhile, Mom and Lily were hiding in the garage.
Jeff walked in with Chloe and me right behind him. He barely made it two steps into the living room before he froze.
A dimly lit living room | Source: Midjourney
“Where’s my recliner?” he barked, scanning the empty spot.
“Gone,” Chloe piped in casually, tilting her head. “Mom took what’s hers.”
Jeff turned to us and his face reddened again, but before he could say another word, his stomach gurgled loudly. He doubled over slightly, clutching his gut.
“Oh, man, I think that spicy food—” He paused, looking around frantically.
A man holding his stomach | Source: Midjourney
“Is something wrong, Jeff? I hope it wasn’t the food,” I said, blinking innocently.
He stared daggers at me before bolting down the hall. Moments later, we heard the bathroom door slam.
Lily and Mom appeared out of their hiding spot right in time to hear the sound of Jeff panicking. “What the hell? Where’s all the toilet paper?!” he yelled.
I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“We took that along with the recliner!” I shouted, laughter bubbling up. “After all, it also belonged to Mom!”
A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
“WHAT?” he shouted back.
It seemed like he wasn’t getting it, so Mom stepped closer to the bathroom door. “I’M LEAVING YOU, JEFF! And I took what was mine,” she exclaimed firmly. “Including my dignity.”
Jeff groaned loudly from behind the bathroom door. “You can’t just leave me like this!” he yelled.
“WATCH ME!” Mom replied, adding, “Not that you can right now, but enjoy staying in the bathroom all night!”
A woman next to a closed door | Source: Midjourney
My sisters and I stared at each other, giggling.
Jeff groaned, and there were other unsavory sounds, which I took as our cue to leave. “Let’s go, Mom,” I said.
She nodded and walked out, thanking us.
***
The next day, Jeff tried to call her. Over and over again, he left voicemails full of fake apologies and pitiful excuses.
“Jane, come on, be reasonable! You can’t just run off like this!” he begged.
A man using a phone | Source: Midjourney
But Mom didn’t answer or call back.
Instead, Chloe had a better idea.
On his birthday, we sent Jeff a little gift. A jumbo pack of toilet paper, wrapped just as carefully as the one he’d given Mom.
Attached was a handwritten note that read: “For a real man.”
Rolls of toilet paper on a porch | Source: Midjourney
Mom moved in with Lily, a temporary arrangement where we all helped while she found a job. Anthony was delighted to learn about what we had done and wished he was there, too.
From what I hear, Jeff’s still complaining to anyone who’ll listen. But Mom is finally living her life without his control, and we couldn’t be prouder.
A happy woman | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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