Death, loneliness, and family drama—oh my! When my dad passed away recently, my poor mom was left feeling like a lost puppy. “Let’s bring her in,” I thought, to smother her with the chaos only grandkids can offer.

But lo and behold, the hubby, ever the financial watchdog, had other plans. Initially, it was a big fat ‘No.’ But then Mr. Practical struck a compromise—mom could move in if, and only if, she paid us rent.

Cue my internal fire. I mean, who does that? My husband cheekily smiled and had the audacity to say, “Your mother is a leech. Once she moves in with us, she will never leave.”

He went on, “She’ll munch our snacks, zap our electricity—basically, it’s a free-for-all. And this house, dear wife, is not a free, five-star hotel!”

At this point, I was seeing red. We both contributed to this house. In my mind, asking my grieving mom to pay rent was beyond cruel.

So, let’s get one thing straight: My husband isn’t some evil villain twirling his mustache. It’s a classic case of oil and water; my mom and he just never clicked. As he so candidly reminded me the other night, “Your mother hated me since the day we met. Having her live here would be a nightmare for me.”

My heart breaks at this dilemma. Here’s mom, lonely as ever and desperately needing her daughter’s support. And then there’s my husband, stubborn yet not entirely wrong in his concerns. What on earth am I supposed to do?