When my mother-in-law demanded a key to our home, claiming, “That’s what good daughters-in-law do,” I realized she had no concept of boundaries. So, I came up with a plan that would teach her what privacy actually means, without destroying our relationship in the process.
There’s something uniquely challenging about loving someone whose mother thinks her son’s marriage certificate includes her name, too.
My husband Josh is wonderful. His mother, Diane? Let’s just say she missed the memo that umbilical cords are cut at birth.
A woman standing in her living room | Source: Midjourney
Diane is the kind of woman who’ll greet you with a big, genuine smile and do everything to make you feel comfortable. When you first meet her, you’re instantly charmed. She remembers your coffee order after hearing it once. She sends thoughtful birthday cards with handwritten notes.
She’s the kind of woman you’d want to be friends with because she’s what you call a “girl’s girl.” She’s the kind of woman who’s always there for her loved ones. She’s kind. Nice. Caring.
But when it comes to her son? She’s a whole new person.
A man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
“Josh always loved my chicken pot pie recipe,” she’d announce while rearranging the dishes in our kitchen cabinet. “You should really learn to make it properly.”
She is one of those women who thinks being a “boy mom” gives her permanent access to her son’s entire existence. And by extension, mine too.
I met Josh at the marketing firm where we both worked. He was the quiet creative director who surprised me with his dry humor during late-night campaign preparations.
A man working in his office | Source: Pexels
After our third coffee break that somehow stretched into dinner, I knew he was special. Six months later, we were engaged, and I was happier than I’d ever been.
“You proposed already?” Diane had said when Josh called to share the news. I was sitting right beside him and heard her voice clear as day through the phone. “Don’t you think that’s a bit rushed? Remember what happened with Sarah from college?”
Josh just laughed it off.
“Mom, this is different,” he said. “Kiara is different.”
A man using his phone | Source: Pexels
I should have known then what I was in for, but love has a way of making red flags look like regular flags caught in a romantic breeze.
The real trouble started when I got pregnant, barely a year into our marriage. What should have been the happiest time became an exercise in boundary-setting.
“You’re carrying too low. It’s definitely a boy,” Diane would declare, placing her hands on my belly without asking. “Josh was carried exactly the same way.”
When I opted for a gender reveal party and discovered we were having a girl, Diane’s smile froze.
A woman with wide eyes | Source: Midjourney
“Well,” she said, sipping her champagne, “Men in our family usually have boys first. Must be your family’s influence.”
Then came the unsolicited advice about everything from what I should eat (“No spicy food, it’ll give the baby colic!”) to how I should sleep (“Never on your right side, it restricts blood flow!”).
None of it backed by medical science, all of it delivered with the confidence of someone who believed raising one child 40 years ago made her an expert.
When Josh and I moved into our first home, she visited the following week without asking.
A woman standing in her son’s house | Source: Midjourney
I opened the door in a robe, mascara under my eyes, and our colicky three-month-old daughter on my hip. The house was a mess with dishes piled in the sink and baby clothes scattered across the living room. I hadn’t showered in two days.
“Oh, I figured you’d be home,” she said, brushing past me into our entryway. “I brought my own cleaner. This place needs some real help.”
That should’ve been my warning.
A vacuum cleaner | Source: Pexels
Since then, Diane’s boundary-crossing became a regular feature in our lives. Like the time she rearranged our living room furniture while we were at work.
“The feng shui was all wrong,” she explained when I came home to find my reading nook completely dismantled. “This arrangement brings better energy for the baby.”
Josh just shrugged when I complained later.
“That’s just Mom being Mom,” he said, as if that explained everything.
A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney
Then there was the time she tossed out all the “unhealthy” snacks from our pantry. My secret stash of chocolate-covered pretzels, the spicy chips I’d been craving since pregnancy, and even Josh’s protein bars. All gone.
“You’ll thank me later,” she insisted. “Processed food is basically poison.”
But the final straw? Walking in on me breastfeeding in our bedroom.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said, barely pausing as she placed fresh towels in our en-suite bathroom. “I’ve seen it all before.”
A woman standing in her son’s bedroom | Source: Midjourney
I clutched the nursing cover tighter, feeling violated in what should have been my most private moment.
“Diane,” I said, “I’d appreciate a knock next time.”
She looked puzzled, as if the concept was entirely foreign to her. “We’re all family here,” she replied breezily.
It was too much.
A month ago, at our regular Sunday brunch, she dropped it casually between bites of lemon scone.
A tray of scones | Source: Pexels
“I’ll need a key to your house,” she announced, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “That’s what good daughters-in-law do, you know.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. The audacity of the request (read: the demand) left me speechless for a moment.
“Excuse me?” I finally managed.
“For emergencies,” she explained, as if I were slow to understand a perfectly reasonable request. “For when I drop things off. For being part of the family.” She reached across the table to pat my hand. “It’s not like I’d misuse it.”
A woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Josh looked at me. I looked at him. He wisely shoved another bite of scone into his mouth and stayed out of it.
But Diane? She wouldn’t let it go.
“Every woman in my bridge group has access to her grandkids and her son’s house,” she continued, stirring another sugar cube into her already-sweet tea. “Phyllis even has her own bedroom at her son’s place. Is there something you’re hiding from me?”
The question hung in the air between us.
A close-up shot of a woman’s eye | Source: Midjourney
What was I hiding?
Only my sanity. My autonomy. My right to live in my own home without wondering if my mother-in-law might appear at any moment to critique my housekeeping, parenting, or the way I loaded the dishwasher.
On the drive home, Josh finally spoke.
“Maybe we should just give her a key,” he suggested tentatively. “It might make life easier.”
I stared out the window, watching suburban houses blur past, each one a sanctuary I suddenly envied.
The view from a car driving on a road | Source: Pexels
“Easier for whom?” I asked quietly.
He had no answer.
***
After weeks of texts asking, “Have you made a copy yet?” and phone calls reminding me how “normal families share keys,” Diane finally wore us down.
Or rather, she wore Josh down, and by extension, me.
“It’s just easier to give her what she wants,” Josh sighed one night after his mother’s third call that day. “You know how she gets.”
I did know. And that’s when we came up with an idea.
The following weekend, at our usual Sunday brunch, I handed Diane a small gift box with a ribbon on top.
A gift box | Source: Midjourney
Inside, nestled on a bed of tissue paper, lay a shiny brass key.
“Oh!” Her eyes lit up as she lifted it out. She looked smug. Triumphant. Like she’d won something.
“This is what good DILs do,” she said, pocketing it like a trophy. “You won’t regret this, Kiara.”
But I knew better.
Fast forward to the following weekend.
Josh and I were out on a rare brunch date, enjoying our eggs benedict and mimosas, when my phone buzzed with a Ring camera alert.
A phone on a table | Source: Midjourney
There she was. At our front door. Key in hand. Trying to unlock it.
Jiggle. Twist. Try again. Nothing.
She bent down, inspecting the doorknob. Looked confused. Then annoyed. She tried again, more forcefully this time, as if the lock might yield to her determination.
I answered through the camera, sipping my coffee.
“Everything okay, Diane?”
She squinted into the lens, startled.
“The key’s not working,” she huffed. “Did you give me the wrong one?”
A key in a keyhole | Source: Pexels
I smiled, meeting Josh’s supportive gaze across the table before answering.
“Nope. It’s the key to Josh’s old bedroom at your house. You know, the one you used to walk into without knocking? That was your space. But this house? This life? It’s ours. No unannounced visits anymore.”
She didn’t respond. Just stared for a moment, mouth slightly open, and then walked back to her car with rigid shoulders.
Later that evening, Josh texted her.
“We’re happy to have you visit, Mom. But from now on, visits are by invitation, not surprise entry.”
A person texting | Source: Pexels
She didn’t reply for a few days.
The silence was new territory in our relationship with Diane. She had always been quick with responses.
I didn’t text her. I didn’t call her. I wanted to give her time to understand what she’d done and what we wanted from her.
And that worked.
When she finally called Josh the following Wednesday, her tone was different. He put the call on speaker so I could hear.
A man holding his phone | Source: Midjourney
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice lacking its usual authority. “I may have overstepped.”
Coming from Diane, this was practically a full confession and apology.
“I just worry about you,” she continued. “And the baby. I want to be involved.”
“You can be involved, Mom,” Josh said gently. “Just on our terms.”
When she came over for dinner that Friday, after texting to ask if the time worked for us, she brought a homemade chocolate cake and a small gift.
A chocolate cake | Source: Pexels
“It’s a doorbell,” she said with a small smile. “For when I visit.”
And when she needed to use the bathroom? She knocked on my bedroom door before entering.
Isn’t that amazing? I was shocked but also happy to see she’d finally learned her lesson.
That night, after she left, Josh put his arm around me on the couch.
“That was kind of brilliant,” he admitted. “The key switch.”
I leaned into him, relieved. “I guess you’re never too old to start learning about boundaries.”
She Was a 1980s Bombshell, But Heather Thomas Faced Demons—Her Transformation at 66 Is Unbelievable!
Heather Thomas, known for her role alongside Lee Majors in *The Fall Guy*, turned 66 on September 8. She was on track for a very successful Hollywood career.
However, after the show’s finale, her mother appeared on set, and Thomas rushed to the hospital, thinking her father had an emergency. But when she arrived at the Santa Monica hospital, her family and friends told her that her father, Leon, was fine—it was her they were worried about.
This marked the start of a new chapter in the 28-year-old’s life, which would change both her personal life and career.
Read on to find out what happened to the famous 1980s pinup girl!
Heather Thomas had talent and natural beauty that compared to stars like Farrah Fawcett and Heather Locklear. She was born to be in the spotlight.
At just 14, she hosted an NBC show called *Talking with a Giant*, where she and other teens interviewed celebrities.
Wanting more, Thomas studied film and theater at UCLA, aiming to be an actor, director, and writer. Before she graduated, she appeared in a short-lived comedy series called *Co-Ed Fever* in 1979.
In 1980, Thomas, who was born in Connecticut, landed her first major role in *The Fall Guy*. She played Jody Banks, a stuntwoman and bounty hunter, alongside Lee Majors, who was famous for his role in *The Six Million Dollar Man*.
Her role made her popular, especially among male viewers, who saw her as a sex symbol. Thomas had mixed feelings about this label.
“There’s a kind of condescension that comes with it,” she told *People*. “You fit the stereotype of the blonde bimbo. But at the time, I was just having fun.”
Unfortunately, Thomas’s fun also involved drugs, a habit that began before her role as Jody Banks.
She revealed that her drug use started in sixth grade to help keep her grades up. “I was taking acid and getting straight A’s. I thought it was mind-expanding,” Thomas said.
As Heather Thomas grew older, the drugs she used also changed.
While studying at UCLA, Thomas started using cocaine. By 1981, just one year into her role on *The Fall Guy*, her drug problems got worse.
Feeling pressure to live up to her image as a sex symbol, the 5-foot-7 actress became obsessed with her weight. She began taking Lasix, a diuretic that can cause extreme tiredness.
To fight the tiredness, she used more cocaine to stay energized.
“At first, I loved the drug. I felt like I was getting a lot out of it. It kept me awake all night, and I could still work the next day,” she said, but claimed she never used it on set. “Cocaine isn’t accepted on sets. It’s no longer cool. It’s just a personal nightmare.”
However, a source close to Thomas told *People* that her drug use was hurting her career. “People knew Heather had a problem,” the source said.
Thomas’s weight dropped from 125 to 105 pounds, and she began falling asleep between scenes. She admitted, “Sometimes, I was in a mini coma.”
One day, she passed out in front of her co-star, Lee Majors. He contacted her manager, who then called her mother.
After the final episode of *The Fall Guy* was filmed, Thomas’s mother, Gladdy Ryder, showed up on set and told her that her father was in the hospital.
Thomas rushed to St. John’s Hospital, but when she arrived, she was met by her family and friends. They were there to admit her into a three-week drug rehabilitation program.
“That day was a big relief for me,” Thomas said. When she checked into detox, she had pneumonia, scarred lungs, and inflamed kidneys. “I’d been on a roller coaster, and I wanted to get off. If my family hadn’t stepped in, I probably would have kept going until I lost my job or died.”
She also said, “The doctors told me I should have been dead three years ago.”
Determined to recover, Thomas surrounded herself with people who supported her goal of staying drug-free. That’s when she met Allan Rosenthal, co-founder of Cocaine Anonymous, and married him when she was 28. They divorced in September 1986.
That same month, Thomas was hit by a car while crossing the street, leaving her with serious injuries to both legs.
After detox, divorce, and surgery to repair major damage in one of her legs, Heather Thomas returned to acting with smaller roles in TV series. She also appeared in movies like *Cyclone* in 1987 and the 1990 Canadian film *Red Blooded American Girl* with Christopher Plummer.
With her struggles behind her, Thomas started fresh in the 1990s. While working to revive her career, she married entertainment lawyer Skip Brittenham in 1992. She became a stepmother to his two daughters, Kristina and Shauna, and gave birth to her only biological child, daughter India Rose, in June 2000.
Talking about her decision to step away from acting, Thomas said, “I had about 45 restraining orders, and I was on everything from a toilet seat cover to an ashtray. Then I fell in love, had two little girls, and decided to give up acting to write for a while.”
In 2017, Thomas made a brief comeback in the movie *Girltrash: All Night Long*, one of her 26 acting credits.
However, Thomas has focused mostly on writing. She said it wasn’t a lack of roles that drove her away from acting but the constant threat of stalkers invading her privacy. “One guy climbed over the fence with a knife. I had two little girls who needed raising, so that was that. Now, I think I’m old enough that people won’t bother me as much.”
Today, Thomas is also involved in activism. She has served on the boards of the Rape Foundation and the Amazon Conservation Team.
Identifying as a feminist, which some find surprising for a former sex symbol, Thomas explained how she embraced both roles.
“When I was younger, I did what people told me. But as I got older, I didn’t compromise myself. I wanted power and freedom, and my career gave me that. I don’t think being a feminist means you should be ashamed of your body,” she said.
It’s unfortunate that Heather Thomas wasn’t able to fully revive her acting career, but we’re glad she got the help she needed and is now on a lifelong journey of recovery.
The 1980s had so many great shows, and we loved watching her as Jody Banks in *The Fall Guy* alongside Lee Majors, the Six Million Dollar Man!
We’d love to hear your thoughts about Heather Thomas and her journey to recovery!
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