When Martha returns from a weekend away, she is horrified to find that her mother-in-law, Gloria, has destroyed her daughter’s beautiful flower bed and replaced it with tacky garden gnomes. Furious but composed, Martha devises a clever plan to teach her a lesson she will never forget.
My daughter Amy has been my world since the day she was born. After her father left us when she was just two years old, it was just the two of us against the world… until Stephen came along.
He brought love, stability, and unfortunately, his mother, Gloria, into our lives.
From the moment I married her son, Gloria made her disapproval of Amy and me crystal clear with cruel remarks like:
“You don’t need a woman with baggage.”
or
“Why waste money on gifts for a child that isn’t even yours?”
Luckily, Stephen always stood up for us. “Amy is my daughter, Mom,” he would say firmly. “And Martha is my wife. That makes them my family.”
But Gloria would just wave her hand dismissively, as if shooing away an annoying fly.
“You should focus on having your own kids, Stephen,” she’d insist. “I want grandchildren, not stepchildren, or whatever that girl is.”
Sometimes, these conversations got heated, but Stephen never managed to change her mind. And whenever I tried to de-escalate things, Gloria would shoot me a cold glare and say it was a “family matter”—and that I should stay out of it.
It was never easy, but I tried to be civil and keep the peace… until Gloria did something unforgivable.
Amy has always been passionate about gardening. For her 12th birthday, Stephen and I gifted her some plants and set aside a garden patch for her to create her own floral paradise. To her, it was the best present ever.
She spent months planning and tending to her garden. Her face would light up every time a new flower bloomed.
“Mom, look!” she’d exclaim every morning, dragging me outside. “The daffodils are starting to sprout!”
She knew every flower by name, when they would bloom, and exactly how to care for them. While other kids her age were obsessed with video games or social media, Amy found her joy in the simple miracle of watching things grow.
When she proudly showed her garden to Gloria, her grandmother merely glanced at the flowers and scoffed.
“I suppose you like getting your hands dirty,” she muttered before heading inside.
Amy frowned. “What does that mean, Mom?”
I forced a smile. “I think she just means she sees how much you enjoy gardening, sweetheart.”
Amy didn’t look entirely convinced, but she shrugged and continued tending to her plants.
That weekend, we left Gloria in charge of our dog while we went on our trip. When we returned home, what we found was devastating.
Amy’s garden was gone.
No flowers. No plants. Just an army of the ugliest, most hideous garden gnomes I had ever seen.
They grinned at me with their creepy ceramic faces, mocking everything my daughter had worked so hard for. The carefully arranged flowers had been ripped out and tossed aside like weeds. Even the hand-painted stones Amy had used to border her flower bed were gone.
My stomach churned. I stormed into the house, Stephen right behind me.
“Gloria!” I shouted, barely containing my fury. “What did you do to Amy’s flower bed?”
She appeared in the hallway, wearing her usual smug smile.
“Oh, Martha! Don’t you just love the gnomes? Flowers only bloom for a few months, and I thought the garden needed decorations that would last all year.”
“That was Amy’s garden, Mom! How could you do this to her?” Stephen demanded.
Gloria scoffed and pursed her lips. In that moment, I knew neither Stephen nor I would be able to get through to her. No, Gloria needed to learn a lesson the hard way—and I was the perfect person to teach her.
I forced a sweet smile. “You’re absolutely right, Gloria. The gnomes are lovely. How much do we owe you for them?”
She blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then, recovering quickly, she beamed.
“Well, they’re hand-painted, so they weren’t cheap. Let’s say… $500.”
It took everything in me not to burst out laughing at the ridiculous price. Instead, I nodded calmly.
“Let’s settle everything tomorrow. Come over for dinner, and I’ll pay you then.”
Gloria agreed and left, looking as smug as ever.
“What are you planning, Martha?” Stephen asked, raising an eyebrow.
“A lesson Gloria will never forget,” I replied.
I spent the afternoon calculating the actual cost of everything Gloria had destroyed—special rose bushes, tulip bulbs, organic fertilizer, and even the soil analysis we’d now have to do to check for contamination.
The total came to $1,500.
That evening, Gloria strutted into our dining room, practically glowing with self-satisfaction. I greeted her with my best smile and handed her an envelope.
“Oh, Gloria, I have something for you!”
She tore it open eagerly, pulling out five crisp $100 bills. But her smile vanished when she saw the detailed invoice underneath.
“What is this?” she sputtered. “$1,500? You can’t be serious!”
“Oh, I’m very serious,” I said calmly. “You destroyed something my daughter spent months creating. This is the cost to restore it.”
Stephen leaned back in his chair, not even trying to hide his satisfaction.
Gloria’s face turned several shades of red before she stormed out, muttering that she’d be back for her gnomes the next day.
And sure enough, she showed up with a check, paid every cent, and silently loaded her gnomes into her car. She didn’t say a single word, but her tense expression spoke volumes.
Explaining the situation to Amy was tricky, but I found a way to soften it.
“Gloria saw some pests in your garden and wanted to help by getting rid of them, but she accidentally damaged your flowers. She feels terrible about it and has given us money to buy anything you want.”
Amy’s eyes lit up.
“Really? Can we get those purple flowers I saw in the catalog? And maybe some butterfly bushes to attract monarchs?”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart. This is your garden.”
We spent the next few weekends rebuilding her flower bed—even better than before.
Gloria has been noticeably quieter since then, and I’ve noticed she thinks twice before making her usual remarks.