She Cooks a Feast, but Her Daughter’s Friends Devour Every Last Bite!

I was making dinner for my family, yet my daughters friends ate everything!
My daughter, Élodie, is the life of any gathering. Her generosity and cheer draw friends to her like a magnet. In our home in Lyon, theres always a group of kids around herkids of all ages, not just classmates. Im glad shes so sociable, but lately the situation has gotten out of hand and Im near despair.
It all began when Élodie started inviting her friends over. Winter was harsh, so I saw no problem with them staying warm inside. At first she served them tea with biscuits, played music, invented games. I even felt touched by her hospitality. Now, however, she brings strangers Ive never met, and their behavior leaves me speechless.
The other day, after coming home from work, I found two teenagers in the kitchen. They were devouring the cabbage stew I had prepared for two days, eating straight from the pot. Not a single spoonful was left! They piled dirty plates in the sink and left without even saying goodbye. I was furious. We had nothing left for dinner, and I was too exhausted to cook again.
I tried to tell Élodie she couldnt keep inviting unknown people and feeding them our food. A few biscuits or candy, perhaps, but whats in the fridge is for the family. Élodie flushed with anger, called me stingy, and slammed her bedroom door so hard the windows rattled. She locked herself in and refused to speak to me. I felt guilty, but what could I do?
I prepared potatoes and chops, called everyone to the table. Élodie refused to eat, as if I were her enemy. The next morning, before leaving for work, I warned, Theres enough for two days; Ill be home late, dont count on me to cook. Yet when I returned after eleven at night, I found my husband, Philippe, frying potatoes in an empty kitchen. Élodies friends had taken everything again. She shut herself away once more, refusing any explanation.
Im at a loss. How can I make her understand? She doesnt listen and throws absurd accusations at me: Youre selfish, you hate my friends! Is it just teenage rebellion? Did Philippe and I mishandle things? I dont know how to proceed. My heart aches: I want my daughters happiness, but I cant tolerate this chaos.
Im not cheap, but our budget is already stretched thin. Philippe and I work to the point of exhaustion to feed our family. I tire myself preparing good meals, only for strangers to benefit. My mother says, You need to be stricter! but I refuse violence. I want a peaceful solution, yet I dont know how. Élodie avoids me, and I feel Im losing my own child.
What would you do in my place? How can I make her see that her actions affect us without hurting her? How do I set boundaries so our house doesnt turn into a cafeteria? Have any of you faced this? Please share your advice Im at my wits end.

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She Cooks a Feast, but Her Daughter’s Friends Devour Every Last Bite!
“Excuse Me, Hostess, What’s for Dinner?”: Workmen After Fitting a New Window – Imagine, they insisted I feed them! I immediately rang their boss and told him everything. Not long ago, we had the window in my son’s room replaced. My husband was at work, my son at school. While waiting for the workmen, I closed the doors to the other rooms so they couldn’t peek inside. My home is tidy, but I don’t like strangers looking around my rooms. Three men arrived to fit the new window, greeting me rather noisily. Their behaviour embarrassed me a little—I don’t understand this sort of conduct from people I’ve just met. It only got worse from there. One of the men went up to a closed door, opened it, and had a good look around: – Are we replacing the window here or not? – And without waiting for an answer, he opened the next room’s door. – Why are you opening the door? You can see it’s closed. You should ask first; this isn’t your house. I’ll show you exactly where and what you need to do. It took the workmen about five hours to fit the window. If they’d gone out for fewer smoke breaks, it might have been done sooner. As they started packing up their tools, I put the kettle on. I wanted to say goodbye to them and then enjoy a quiet cup of coffee before cleaning the room where the window was replaced. Suddenly, the man who’d been opening doors walked into the kitchen and said: – I see you’re cooking something. Are you making us dinner? I hadn’t expected anything like that. – No. I’ve no idea what you’ll have for dinner—I imagine whatever your wives cook for you. – We’ve been here nearly five hours, we’re tired and hungry. Our customers always feed us. Could you make some sandwiches? And if we’d had to stay till evening, would you really let us go hungry? – Even then, I wouldn’t have fed you. You’re not here as guests, you’re here to work. I’m paying for your services—it’s your responsibility to sort your own meals. I didn’t give them any food, and they left my flat in a huff. I’ve never experienced such cheek in my life. Did they honestly think I’d lay out dinner for them? Whenever we’ve had building work in the past, the tradesmen always brought their own food—sometimes they’d ask for water, but that was it. I don’t believe it’s the customer’s job to provide food. It’s a professional arrangement and has nothing to do with sharing meals.