My daughter and her husband left me with the grandkids for the entire school holiday. And here I am, living off my pension, expected to feed and entertain them.
Kids these daysgrandkids includedhave grown so selfish. They demand attention, care, and time but give nothing back except indifference and complaints. What kind of attitude is that? As if we elderly folk have no lives of our own, no desiresjust endless babysitting, like unpaid servants. The moment I ask for help in return, suddenly everyones too busy, as if Im a stranger to them.
My daughter has two boysthe eldest is twelve, the youngest four. I live in a small village outside York, and all I have is a modest pension and the quiet I treasure. I dont know how my daughter and her husband are raising them or whats going on in school, but those boys are turning into lazy little tyrants. They never tidy up after themselves, dont even make their bedsthe place looks like a tornados hit it. And the food! They turn their noses up at my home cooking, demanding junk instead. A right nightmare, I tell you.
When they were little, I helped my daughter every way I couldnursing them, running errands, doing all the heavy lifting. But Ive been retired for five years now, and Id hoped to leave the full-time nanny role behind. This autumn, I even sighed with relief when I checked the calendarno long weekends in early November, so surely, I thought, my daughter wouldnt be going anywhere, and Id finally have peace. How wrong I was.
That Sunday, just before the last week of October, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find my daughter, Emily, standing there with the boys. Before I could even say hello, she blurted out:
“Mum, hi! Take the kidshalf-terms started!”
I was stunned.
“Emily, why didnt you warn me? Whats this all about?”
“If I warned you, youd find a hundred excuses not to take them!” she snapped, yanking their coats off. “Tom and I are off to a spa for the weekIm exhausted!”
“Wait, what about work? There arent extra holidays this year!” I tried to make sense of it, panic rising.
“We used leave daysTom took three unpaid. Mum, no time to explain, were late!” She pecked me on the cheek and bolted, leaving me with two suitcases and two wild children.
Within minutes, the house was chaos. The telly blared, coats and shoes littered the hallway, and the boys tore around like whirlwinds. I tried to get them to tidy up, but they ignored me as if I were invisible. They turned their noses up at my soup, whining that their mum promised them pizza. Thats when I lost it.
I grabbed the phone and called Emily.
“Your boys are demanding pizza! Im not buying that rubbish!”
“Already ordered delivery,” she huffed, clearly annoyed. “Mum, they wont eat your stewit always causes a row. Take them out somewhere, do something fun! You complain they wear you out at home!”
“And with what money? My pension?” I snapped, my face hot.
“What else are you spending it on? Theyre your grandkids, not strangers! I cant believe youd say that!” She hung up before I could reply.
And that was that. Stuck alone with this mess. I worked my fingers to the bone for my only daughtertwo jobs, penny-pinchingso shed want for nothing. And now, in my old age, this is my thanks? Shaking with anger, helplessness, the sheer unfairness of it.
I love my grandboys, I do. But they tire of me, and I tire of themthe gaps too wide, Im not young enough to keep up. Yet my daughter treats me like free childcare, like my pension and my time belong to her and her kids. Their rights, my duties. Selfish, plain selfish! And here I sit, staring at the wreckage, listening to their shrieks, wonderingis this all my old age amounts to? Is this what Ive earned?
