My Parents Sold Their House To Fund My Sister’s Party And Moved Into Mine Rent-free. I Finally Evicted Them On My Birthday After One Last Insult. Now They Called The Cops—am I The Jerk?
The Background Character
My parents sold their house to fund my sister’s engagement party then planned to live rent-free at my place. I refused and set firm boundaries. When they tried to push it, I called the police.
All right, so I’m 34, male, married, and apparently the designated background character in my own family’s life story. I made this throwaway because, well, if my mom ever found this, she’d probably stage a prayer circle about how I’ve betrayed her or some crap.
Anyway, quick PSA for anyone planning on having a kid: Do not, under any circumstances, conceive in March. Trust me, because if you do, congratulations. You’ve just cursed your kid with what I like to call the Christmas hangover birthday.
And guess who pulled the short straw on that one? Yep, yours truly. I was born on December 28th, which basically means for 34 years I’ve been living in the shadow of Christmas. And before you ask, yeah, it sucks.
Everyone always gives me the same line: “Haha, must be rough having your birthday so close to Christmas.”
And I just laugh because apparently sarcasm is cheaper than therapy.-
The Christmas Hangover
Now let me explain why it’s not just a little inconvenient. If you’re a kid with a normal birthday, you get two separate things: The magic of Christmas and a birthday that’s just about you. Balloons, cake, your name and icing.
Me? My childhood birthdays were basically DLC content for Christmas. I’d get the classic line, “Here’s your Christmas and birthday present.” Every single year.
Like, “Wow thanks Mom. Love how Jesus and I have to split a gift.”
One year I specifically asked for a PlayStation game for my birthday. Guess what? I opened it on Christmas morning. My mom pats my shoulder and goes, “That’s your birthday gift too honey. Don’t expect more.”
Nice. Meanwhile my sister Emily—will get to her circus act in a second—is opening a pile of gifts on January 10th with all the fanfare of a royal coronation. And the cake? Forget about it.
At 13, I asked for a cake with ‘Happy Birthday Matt’ on it. What did I get? A leftover Christmas cake with Santa Claus piped on the top. Not even my name, just Santa grinning like, “Sorry kid, I stole your spotlight again.”–
My aunt Lisa literally asked, “Wait, whose cake is this supposed to be?”
My mom shrugged and said, “It’s all the same.”
“Yeah thanks Mom.” My entire existence summed up: “All the same?”
The Golden Child
And then there’s the annual family trip. Every year my dad loads us into the car and drives 4 hours to Uncle Joe’s house for the big family Christmas. Some years Aunt Stacy hosts instead, also 4 hours away. Guess which weekend that always lands on? Yep, my birthday.
So my birthday tradition became watching my cousins open round two of presents while I got maybe one pity happy birthday whispered as someone reached for mashed potatoes. Now I could maybe survive all that if it was just about Christmas being a juggernaut. But nah, in my family there’s another main character hogging the camera: My sister Emily, aka the golden child.
Emily has been the star since day one. She’s 2 years older than me, born January 10th, and she’s the kind of person who could trip on the stairs and somehow get a standing ovation for it. She always got the best gifts, the most attention, and the loudest applause.-
When we were kids, I saved up for this cheap RC car I really wanted. First day I brought it home, Emily decided she had to test drive it. Straight into a puddle, dead on arrival. I was crushed.
Mom’s reaction: “Don’t make a fuss. Your sister didn’t mean it. You should share.”
Then she made Emily hot chocolate and told me to be nicer. That was the first of about a thousand times I realized in my family Emily could commit a war crime and still get cocoa after.
She’s also greedy, like Olympic level greedy. If I ever mentioned I was saving up for something, 2 weeks later Emily was needing the same thing. I’d been saving for months to buy myself a decent laptop for school. Literally stuffing cash in an envelope because I didn’t trust myself with a card.
Right when I was finally close, Emily suddenly decided she needed one too. And guess what? My parents took my savings envelope and told me, “It makes more sense for Emily to have it. She’ll use it more.”–
Dad’s logic was, “Be practical son. You’ll get by with what you have right?”
Because apparently I was supposed to finish my assignments on a graphing calculator while Emily posted selfies on her shiny new laptop that I literally paid for.
And if I ever called it out mom would hit me with, “Don’t be jealous of your sister. She’s got so much on her plate.”
“What plate?”
“The silver one they keep handing her.”
Dad would just mutter, “Son don’t start drama. Keep the peace.” Which is basically code for shut up and let Emily have it.
