Twenty people.

Sometimes twenty-five.

And every single time…

They arrived carrying absolutely nothing.

Not a bag of chips.

Not dessert.

Not drinks.

Not even ice.

Meanwhile, my husband Jake and I spent nearly a thousand dollars preparing enough food for everyone.

Every holiday left us exhausted—and broke.

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2. The Excuses Never Ended

The first few years, I assumed it was accidental.

Maybe they forgot.

Maybe next time they’d contribute.

Instead, Linda somehow became even bolder.

As she’d step through our gate, she’d announce loudly,

“There she is! Our favorite chef!”

Everyone laughed.

I’d force a smile.

Then she’d look around.

“Ooooh… burgers?”

She’d lift the lid off the grill.

“Only burgers? I thought maybe you’d have steak this year.”

Or…

“No shrimp skewers?”

Or…

“I hope you made your famous peach cobbler.”

Never “thank you.”

Never “Can I help?”

Never “What can I bring?”

Only requests.

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3. Guess Who Cleaned Everything?

Once dinner ended, the adults disappeared.

The men watched baseball.

The women gathered on the patio gossiping.

The teenagers vanished into the basement.

The children left popsicles melting across the deck.

Guess who cleaned?

Me.

Always me.

Sometimes Jake helped.

Sometimes.

But even he struggled to confront his mother.

“That’s just how they’ve always been.”

I hated that sentence.