For years, my mother and I had a difficult relationship, but I never imagined things would go this far. I have two children—a nine-year-old girl and a six-year-old boy. I’ve raised them alone since my separation, and despite being responsible, hardworking, and a very caring mum, my mother always insisted I was “not fit to be a mother.” Whenever she visited, she’d check everything—from looking in my fridge, hunting for dust, scolding me if the clothes weren’t folded as she liked, or if the children weren’t perfectly quiet while she was there. Last week, she came round to “help” because my son had a cold, saying she’d stay for two days. One afternoon while she was out shopping, I was searching for a receipt in the TV stand cupboard… and that’s when I saw it: a thick black notebook with a red divider. I thought it was mine—one of the ones I use to jot down expenses—but it wasn’t. The handwriting inside was hers. And on the first page, it said: “Record—just in case legal action becomes necessary.” I turned the page…and saw exact dates with things she considered my “irresponsibilities.” For example: • “3rd September: the children ate reheated rice.” • “18th October: the girl went to bed at 10pm—too late for her age.” • “22nd November: clothes waiting to be folded in the living room.” • “15th December: saw her looking tired—not suitable for raising children.” Everything I did, every detail of my home—absolutely everything—she wrote down as if it were a crime. And there were things that were completely made up: “29th November: left the child alone for 40 minutes.” That never happened. What’s even worse: there was a section called “Backup plan.” She’d listed the names of aunts who could “confirm” that I lived under stress—something they’d never said. There were printed messages of me asking her not to come round unannounced because I was busy—she was keeping them as “evidence” that I “refused help.” There was even a paragraph stating that if she could “prove” I was a messy or disorganised mother, she could apply for temporary custody of the children “for their safety.” When she got back from the shop, I was shaking. I didn’t know whether to confront her, to stay silent, or to run. I carefully put the notebook back where I found it. That same evening, she made an apparently innocent remark: “Perhaps the children would be better off with someone more organised…” That’s when I realised the notebook wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment idea—this was a plan. Organised. Calculated. Deliberate. I didn’t tell her I’d seen it. I know if I do, she’ll deny everything, accuse me, turn it all against me—and only make things more dangerous. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. And I’m hurt to my core.

For years, my relationship with my mother had always been uneasy, but I could never have imagined things would go so far. I have two childrena nine-year-old daughter and a six-year-old son. Ever since I separated, I have been raising them on my own, and although I have always been diligent, hard-working, and attentive to my children’s needs, my mother never missed the chance to insist that I was unfit to be a mother. Whenever she visited my home, she would inspect everythingshed rummage through the fridge, check for dust, scold me if the laundry wasnt folded to her liking, or if the children werent perfectly quiet in her presence.

Last week, she came over to help out because my son had caught a cold. She said shed stay for two nights. One afternoon, while she was out at the shops, I was searching for a receipt in the cupboard beneath the television and then I noticed it: a thick black notebook, marked with a red tab. I thought it might be one of mineI often jot down expensesbut it wasnt. The handwriting inside was hers. On the very first page, shed written:

Recordjust in case legal action is required.

I turned the page and there it was: exact dates, listing what she considered my supposed negligence. For instance:
3rd September: the children ate reheated rice for supper.
18th October: the girl went to bed at 10pmfar too late for her age.
22nd November: unfolded clothes in the sitting room.
15th December: saw her appear tirednot fitting for motherhood.

Everything I did, every minuscule detail of my homeshe logged it as if it were a crime. And there were things that were blatantly untrue:
29th November: left the child unattended for 40 minutes.
That simply never happened.

Even more chilling was a section titled Contingency Plan. There she had listed the names of aunts who might corroborate her claims that I live under stresssomething they have never once said. She even had printouts of messages where Id asked her not to come by unannounced, explaining that I was busyshe kept these as evidence, claiming I refused support.

There was even a paragraph stating that, if she managed to prove I was a disorganised or careless mother, she could appeal for temporary custody of my children for their own safety.

When she returned from the grocers, my hands were shaking. I couldnt decide whether to confront her, keep silent, or simply flee. I replaced the notebook exactly as Id found it.

That very evening, she gave a remark, seemingly offhand:
Perhaps the children would be better off with someone rather tidier

In that moment, I realised the notebook was no spur-of-the-moment fancyit was a calculated scheme. Deliberate. Thought-out. Carefully planned.

I never let on that Id seen it. I know if I did, she would deny it all, accuse me, twist things to her advantageand I fear she would only make everything more perilous.

I dont know what I ought to do.
Im frightened.
And the hurt runs deeper than I can say.