My daughter and son-in-law have left their children with me for the entire school break, and now I’m expected to entertain and feed them on my limited pension.
Modern children and grandchildren have become quite self-centered—they demand attention, care, and time but give nothing in return except indifference and complaints. What kind of attitude is this towards the elderly? It’s as if we, the older generation, have no lives or desires of our own—we’re simply expected to look after the grandchildren, like we’re the help. The moment I ask for assistance, everyone suddenly becomes unavailable, as if I’m a stranger to them.
My daughter has two sons—one is 12 and the other is 4. I live in a small village in the countryside, and all I have is my modest pension and the peace and quiet I value so much. I don’t know how my daughter and her husband are raising them or what’s happening at their school, but the boys grow lazier every day. They leave everything messy, don’t make their beds, and eat anything but my cooking, which they turn their noses up at while demanding junk food. It feels like a punishment!
When my grandsons were small, I did everything I could to help my daughter—I babysat, took them to the shops, and more. But for the past five years, I’ve been retired and tried to pull back from the endless babysitting role. This year, before the autumn holidays, I was relieved; I checked the calendar and realized there were no long weekends expected in early November. I thought that meant my daughter and her husband wouldn’t go anywhere, and I would finally have some peace. How wrong I was!
On a Sunday, right before the last week of October, I heard a knock on the door. I opened it to find my daughter, Jane, standing there with her two sons. Without even a proper hello, she blurted out:
“Mum, hey! Here are the kids, the school break has started!”
I was stunned.
“Jane, why didn’t you give me a heads-up? What sort of surprise is this?”
“If I had warned you, you’d have come up with a thousand excuses not to take them!” she snapped, pulling off the boys’ jackets. “Tom and I are off to a spa for a week, I’m exhausted!”
“But wait, what about work? There aren’t even extra days off this year!” I tried to comprehend, feeling a panic rising inside.
“We’ve booked holiday time; Tom’s taken three unpaid days off. Mum, no time to explain, we’re running late!” she said, pecked me on the cheek, and dashed out the door, leaving me with two suitcases and the kids.
In less than five minutes, the house turned into a madhouse. The TV was blaring, coats and shoes were strewn across the hallway, and the boys ran around like a whirlwind. I tried to rein them in, urging them to at least tidy up their clothes, but they ignored me as if I were invisible. When they refused to eat my soup, grimacing and declaring that their mum promised them pizza, my patience snapped.
I grabbed the phone and dialed Jane:
“Your kids are demanding pizza! I’m not buying them that!”
“I’ve already arranged for delivery,” she dismissed me, irritation lacing her voice. “Mum, they won’t eat your oatmeal, it always causes a scene. Take them out, have some fun, eat something decent! You always complain about how they exhaust you at home!”
“On what money am I supposed to entertain them? My pension?” I retorted, feeling my face flush with indignation.
“What else do you spend it on? They’re your grandkids, not strangers! I can’t believe you’d even say that!” she scoffed and hung up.
That’s it! I was left alone with this nightmare. I’ve spent my whole life working hard for my only daughter—juggling two jobs, saving every penny so she could have a good life. And now, in my old age, this is the “thank you” I get! I tremble with shame, powerlessness, and injustice.
I love my grandsons, I truly do. But they wear me out, and I tire them out too—the age gap is vast, and I’m no longer young enough to keep up with them all day. Yet my daughter seems to think I’m free labor, that my pension and my time belong to her and her children. That’s her right, and my only role is to fulfill duties. They’re selfish, pure and simple! And here I sit, looking at this mess, listening to their shouts, and wondering: is this what my golden years are meant to be? Is this all I deserve?”
