For the past 12 years, my husband Tom had gone on an annual family vacation to the islands with his parents and siblings. Every year, I asked if the kids and I could come along, and every year, he’d give the same excuse: “My mom doesn’t want in-laws on the trip. It’s just immediate family. Plus, I don’t want to deal with the kids on vacation.”
At first, I reluctantly accepted it, thinking it might truly be a tradition his family held dear. But as the years went by, my resentment grew. How could his family exclude us? And why didn’t he stand up for me and our kids?
This year, a week before his departure, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. While Tom was at work, I mustered the courage to call my mother-in-law.
“Hi, Margaret,” I began nervously. “I wanted to ask you something. Why don’t you allow Tom to take us on vacation? Don’t you consider us family?”
There was a pause on the line before Margaret’s confused voice answered, “What are you talking about, dear? My husband and sons always invite everyone! We’d love for you and the kids to join us. I assumed you didn’t want to come since you’ve never joined.”
I froze. “What do you mean? Tom said you didn’t want in-laws on the trip.”
Margaret’s voice grew sharper. “That’s not true at all. In fact, I’ve asked Tom many times why you and the kids don’t come. He always said you preferred to stay home.”
The conversation ended with Margaret promising to call me back after talking to her husband and sons. I hung up, my heart pounding.
When Tom came home that evening, I confronted him.
“Tom, why have you been lying to me about these vacations?” I asked, my voice trembling.
He looked startled. “What are you talking about?”
“I talked to your mom,” I said. “She told me they’ve always wanted me and the kids to come. So why have you been keeping us away?”
Tom’s face turned pale, and he stammered, “I… I didn’t think you’d enjoy it. It’s more of a relaxing trip, and with the kids…”
I cut him off, anger boiling over. “Don’t lie to me. The truth, Tom. Now.”
He finally confessed. Over the years, Tom had used the trip as an escape—time to unwind without the responsibilities of being a husband and father. He hadn’t wanted to admit it because he knew it was selfish.
“Do you have any idea how hurtful that is?” I demanded. “To exclude me and the kids, year after year, and then lie about it?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you.”
The next day, Margaret called back. She apologized profusely for not realizing what had been happening and insisted I join the trip with the kids. She even offered to help look after them.
When Tom realized his family was on my side, he had no choice but to include us. The trip ended up being a turning point. Seeing how much his parents enjoyed spending time with me and the kids forced Tom to confront his selfishness.
It took time, but we worked through the betrayal. I made it clear that our family deserved to be included in his life fully—not just when it was convenient for him.
The following year, we all went to the islands together. And for the first time, it felt like we were truly part of the family.
