Nobody Talks About...Dreading Yom Tov at the In-Laws

“Which day Chol Hamoed should we drive to my parents?” Elchonon asked, looking up from his sefer.

Basya kept folding the children’s pajamas. “I was actually thinking maybe we wouldn’t make the trip this year,” she said carefully, smoothing a tiny sleeve across her lap.

You want to stay by your parents all of Sukkos?” Elchonon asked, sitting forward.

“We could visit another Shabbos when the house isn’t full,” Basya offered quickly. “It would be so much easier with the kids.”

Basya put down the pajamas. “Four of us are stuffed into one little room,” she explained. “The crib and cot take up every square inch and every time I need to go in or out, I'm tripping over something. Nobody sleeps.  And we share one tiny bathroom with all your siblings. The boys leave it filthy, your sister takes forever, and someone's always knocking.”

Elchonon shrugged. “It was a couple of rough nights,” he said dismissively. “We survived.”

The words stung. He wasn't the one sitting on the bathroom floor at two in the morning, holding a crying baby because there was nowhere else to go.

“You survived,” Basya replied, hurt sharpening into anger. “You went to shul. I was trapped all day and night with two exhausted children who were falling apart.”

Elchonon’s expression hardened. “What exactly do you expect my parents to do?” he demanded. “They can’t exactly build another wing onto the house.”

“Maybe they could admit they don’t have room,” Basya shot back. “But Gitty is the princess, so she gets the whole basement with two bedrooms, private bathroom, playroom, and kitchenette while we climb over suitcases.”

“Enough, Basya,” Elchonon snapped, dropping his sefer onto the table. “You’re not going to insult my mother and sister because my parents' house isn’t good enough for you.”

Basya’s face grew hot. “It’s a five-hour drive,” she continued. “The kids go crazy, and we lose a whole day of Chol Hamoed just to be miserable when we arrive.”

“My parents are expecting us!” Elchonon said angrily. “Do you care at all how hurt they would be?”

“Do you even care how this is for me?” Basya asked, her voice breaking. “At my parents, the children sleep, have room to play, and we can actually enjoy Yom Tov.”

Elchonon pushed back his chair. “There it is,” he said bitterly. “Your family is amazing, and mine is one big problem.”

“I didn’t say that,” Basya protested, although she could hear how close she had come.

Elchonon rubbed his forehead. “Simchas Torah in my shul is when I see all my old friends,” he said, his voice still hard. “My parents wait all year for us.”

“So what I want doesn’t matter?” Basya asked, wiping quickly beneath one eye.

Elchonon met her gaze. “Staying by your parents for all of Sukkos is not an option,” he said firmly. 

Basya carried the laundry upstairs before he could see her cry. His parents’ feelings mattered. Gitty’s comfort mattered. His childhood memories mattered. Basya felt like the only person whose discomfort could be dismissed as a couple of rough nights.

By the time Basya came to our coaching call, most of her anger had collapsed into hurt.

“What hurt the most?” I asked gently after she described their argument.

“That he doesn’t care what this is like for me,” Basya said, her eyes filling again. “I feel completely alone in it.”

That was the painful pattern. The more Basya criticized his family to prove how alone she felt, the more Elchonon defended them and the more alone she became.

“What is it you really want?” I asked.

Basya paused. “It wouldn’t be so bad if we had a private, comfortable place for us to sleep when we go.  I mean it would still be complicated with putting the kids to sleep and the night seudas, but we could figure it out,” she said slowly. “And I’d love to travel when the kids can sleep the whole way in the car.”

A few nights later, after the kids were asleep, Basya sat beside Elchonon on the couch. “I know how much Simchas Torah with your family means to you,” Basya said gently. “I would love a place nearby where we can sleep and have our own bathroom. And I would love to drive there after the kids’ bedtime.”

Elchonon kept his eyes on his sefer, his jaw tense. Basya’s pulse quickened, but she let the silence remain.

Elchonon nodded slowly. “Shaya’s family may be away for the second days,” he said, opening his contacts. “They have a basement apartment next door. Let me ask. And we could leave after supper on Tuesday.”

Nothing was settled. But they were finally looking at the problem together.

If you recognize yourself in Basya, you may not dislike your in-laws. You may simply be tired of feeling that everyone else’s comfort, expectations and traditions come before yours.

You’re not selfish for wanting sleep, privacy or a Yom Tov you can enjoy. You don’t have to pretend a difficult arrangement is fine to keep the peace.

And you don't have to figure out how to navigate it alone. I would love to support you.

You can book a complimentary Marriage Breakthrough Session here.

Let’s talk about how to express what you want without criticizing the people he loves or silencing the part of you that wants to be considered too.