My daughter and son-in-law left my grandchildren with me for the entire holiday break. And here I am, living on my pension, expected to feed and entertain them.
Modern childrenno, modern grandchildrenhave turned into selfish little creatures. They demand attention, care, time, and what do I get in return? Indifference and complaints. What kind of ungrateful attitude is this? As if we elderly dont have lives of our own, our own desires. No, we must sit around and play the unpaid nanny. But the moment I need help? Suddenly, everyones too busy, as if I dont even matter.
My daughter has two sonsOliver, twelve, and Alfie, four. I live in a quiet village in the Cotswolds, and all I have is my modest pension and the peaceful solitude I cherish. God knows how my daughter and her husband are raising them, or what nonsense goes on in their school, but those boys are turning into proper little layabouts. They leave everything in a messclothes strewn about, beds unmade, like a tornados swept through. And the food! They turn their noses up at my cooking, demanding junk instead. Its absolute torture.
When the boys were little, I did everything for my daughterbabysat, ran errands, wiped their noses. But the last five years, since I retired, Ive tried to step back from being the eternal babysitter. This autumn, I checked my calendar and breathed a sigh of reliefno half-term break in November. Finally, I thought, my daughter wont dump the boys on me. Ill have peace. Oh, how wrong I was.
Last Sunday, just before half-term, the doorbell rang. There stood my daughter, Emily, with her two boys. Before I could even say hello, she blurted out,
“Mum, hi! Youve got the boys for the weekholidays started!”
I froze.
“Emily, you didnt warn me! What kind of surprise is this?”
“If I warned you, youd make excuses!” she snapped, yanking coats off the boys. “Daniel and I are off to a spawere exhausted, Mum! We need this!”
“Butwork? Theres no extra leave this year!” My pulse spiked as panic clawed up my throat.
“We used our holiday days. Daniel took unpaid leave. Look, were running late!” She air-kissed my cheek and bolted, leaving me with two suitcases and the children.
In five minutes, my cottage was a warzone. The telly blared, shoes and jackets littered the hall, and the boys rampaged like wild animals. I begged them to tidy up, but they ignored me as if I were invisible. They refused my stew, whining that Mum had promised them takeaway. Thats when I snapped.
I grabbed the phone and rang Emily.
“Your boys want pizza! I am not buying them junk!”
“I already ordered delivery,” she huffed, irritated. “Mum, they wont eat your foodit always causes rows. Take them out somewhere! Do something fun!”
“And pay for it with what? My pension?” My face burned with fury.
“What else are you spending it on? Theyre your grandchildren, for heavens sake!” She hung up before I could retort.
That was it. Left alone with this madness. I worked myself to the bone for Emilytwo jobs, every penny pinched for her future. And now, in my twilight years, this is my reward? Im shaking with hurt, with helplessness, with the sheer unfairness of it all.
I love my grandsons. Truly, I do. But they exhaust me, and I exhaust themthe gap between us is too vast. Im too old for this. And Emily? She treats me like free labour, as if my time and money belong to her. As if I owe her this. Selfish. Thats what they areutterly selfish.
So now I sit here, surrounded by chaos, their shrieks piercing my ears, and I thinkis this really what my golden years amount to? Did I really deserve only this?
