“My Daughter-in-Law Can’t Even Brew Tea: What She Cooks is Inedible,” Says Mother-in-Law as She Prepares Meals for Her Son

“Why are you peeling so many potatoes and putting them in that large container? And why do you need so much soup when you live alone?” I asked my friend, Linda, as I watched her bustling around her kitchen.

“It’s for my son, Mark. I feel sorry for him,” Linda replied with a sigh. “His wife, Jessica, can’t even brew tea. What she cooks is inedible; she always buys frozen meals or orders takeout, spending a fortune.”

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Linda. She had always been a devoted mother, and it was clear that she was deeply concerned about her son’s well-being. As she continued to peel potatoes and chop vegetables, she recounted the many times she had tried to teach Jessica how to cook.

“I’ve invited her over so many times to show her how to make simple dishes, but she just doesn’t seem interested,” Linda said, shaking her head. “She’d rather spend hours on her phone or watching TV than learn how to cook a decent meal.”

Linda’s frustration was palpable, and I could see the toll it was taking on her. She was a woman in her late 60s, and the constant worry about her son’s nutrition was wearing her down. Despite her best efforts, it seemed that Jessica was determined to rely on convenience foods and takeout.

“I don’t understand it,” Linda continued. “When I was her age, I took pride in cooking for my family. It was a way to show love and care. But Jessica… she just doesn’t seem to care.”

As Linda ladled soup into containers and carefully packed them into a cooler, I couldn’t help but wonder about Mark’s perspective. Did he share his mother’s concerns? Or was he content with the way things were?

Later that evening, I decided to pay Mark and Jessica a visit. When I arrived at their apartment, I was greeted by the smell of reheated takeout. Jessica was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone, while Mark sat at the dining table, picking at his food.

“Hi there,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “How’s everything going?”

Mark looked up and forced a smile. “Hey, it’s going okay.”

Jessica barely acknowledged my presence, muttering a half-hearted greeting before returning to her phone.

I took a seat next to Mark and asked him how he was doing. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“It’s been tough,” he admitted. “I love Jessica, but sometimes I wish she would put more effort into cooking. It’s not just about the food; it’s about feeling cared for.”

His words echoed Linda’s sentiments, and I could see the strain in his eyes. It was clear that the situation was taking a toll on their relationship.

As the evening wore on, I tried to engage Jessica in conversation about cooking. She shrugged off my attempts, insisting that she didn’t have the time or interest to learn.

“I work long hours,” she said defensively. “And besides, there are so many great takeout options around here.”

I left their apartment feeling disheartened. It was clear that the divide between Mark and Jessica was growing wider with each passing day. Despite Linda’s best efforts to bridge the gap with home-cooked meals, it seemed that the root of the problem ran much deeper.

In the weeks that followed, I watched as Linda continued to prepare meals for Mark, hoping that one day Jessica would come around. But as time went on, it became evident that the situation was unlikely to change.

Mark’s health began to suffer from the constant diet of takeout and frozen meals, and his relationship with Jessica grew increasingly strained. Despite Linda’s unwavering support, the lack of effort from Jessica took its toll.

In the end, Mark made the difficult decision to move back in with his mother. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it provided him with the nourishment and care he desperately needed.

As for Jessica, she continued on her path of convenience, seemingly unbothered by the consequences of her choices. The once-promising relationship had crumbled under the weight of neglect and indifference.

Linda’s heartache was palpable as she watched her son’s marriage fall apart. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t save what was already broken.