My son-in-law hasn’t worked in over six months, living off us while my daughter just defends him.
Words can’t express the heartbreak of watching a family unravel when grown adults refuse to take responsibility for their own lives. Just recently, I had a row with my daughter, and it was all because of him—her husband, who’s been jobless for eight months without lifting a finger to change it. And my daughter? She makes excuses. Says it’s beneath him to take any old job, not with his qualifications. But apparently, leeching off her parents isn’t beneath them.
Two years ago, they had a lovely wedding. Everything was proper—we, the parents, chipped in equally to help with the flat. They did up the place themselves, both working back then, money coming in. Yes, they spent foolishly at times, but we held our tongues. Adults ought to learn.
Then six months ago, our grandson was born. Over the moon, we were—such joy! But trouble followed. My daughter went on maternity, and almost at once, her husband lost his job. Savings? None. They turned to us, and of course, my husband and I helped. His parents pitched in too. We bought everything—from the pram to the cot. She gets pennies from the government now; he’s been “job hunting” for eight months.
He swore it was temporary, that he’d find the right position and pay us back. We never asked for repayment—just for them to stand on their own feet. But months pass, nothing changes. We’re exhausted. Is it so hard to take anything—warehouse, deliveries, whatever? But no, he thinks it’s “beneath him.” And my daughter backs him up.
The other day, I snapped. Told her outright—he’s the man, the father, he ought to provide. Instead, he lounges on the sofa waiting for the stars to align with some dream job paying £100K. Meanwhile, my husband and I break our backs so they don’t starve.
She got upset. Called me cruel, said I didn’t understand. If he took some menial job, she argued, he’d have no time or energy for proper interviews—and how would that help? With the baby, she’s got enough on her plate.
Listening to her, I felt fury rise. Since when do young people think parents must fund not just them, but their children too? My husband and I raised her without grandparents’ help—we worked, we coped. We never expected handouts. Yet here they are, comfy as you please.
I spoke with his mother. She’s fed up too—says her son moans about fatigue but won’t even pick up a hoover, let alone a job. We agreed: enough. Time to turn off the taps. No more weekly groceries, no nappies on our dime. Just the bare essentials, split between us.
Harsh? Maybe. They’re our children. But is love letting them rot? Is care allowing them to sink? Family means work, not an endless holiday.
If they don’t wake up now, in a year they’ll be worse off. He’ll still be waiting for that perfect offer, she’ll still insist they’re “doing the right thing.” Only then, they won’t just be a burden—they’ll be ours to carry. Without a shred of shame.
And what example is that for their son? How could they?.
