My house, my kitchen, Margaret said firmly. Thank you for taking away my right to even make a mistake?
I was thirty-six years old when I was offered a promotion at the company where Id been working for almost
Are you sure about this, love? Helen reached over, gave her mums hand a squeeze, and smiled.
I’m 60 and soon to be 61 — it’s not a milestone birthday like 70 or 80, but it matters to me. I want to celebrate it—not with a last-minute cake or a rushed lunch, but with a real, well-organised party: dinner, beautifully set tables, decorated chairs, waiters, soft music. Something that makes me feel alive, appreciated, grateful for everything I’ve come through. The problem is, my children don’t agree. I have two grown sons, both living with me along with their partners and children. The house is always full: noise, TV, children running, conversations, arguments. I love them, of course… but I never have a quiet moment. I’m never alone. Never. I cover most of the expenses, with my pension, the money my husband left me, and a small business I still run. I pay the bills, grocery shop, deal with repairs, and ‘temporary’ help that’s become permanent. I never minded helping. What troubles me is that now, they decide everything for me. When I said I wanted to host a celebration, they told me it was a waste of money. At my age, there’s no point spending on parties, food, and waiters, they said. It would be better to give them the money—for investments, for needs, for ‘something useful.’ They spoke to me as if I was being irresponsible with my own money. I explained that I’m not borrowing, and I’ve thought about this for months. But they didn’t listen. And one of them said, ‘Mum, parties aren’t for you anymore.’ That hurt more than I expected. I started to think about things I never dared to say aloud. That sometimes I want to be alone in my own home. That I miss waking up to silence. That I long to come home to a quiet living room. That I want to make decisions without justifying myself. I’ve even considered telling them to find their own place—not out of spite, but because I feel I’ve done my part. But then guilt eats at me. I’m scared to sound selfish. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to throw anyone out for a night. I just want to know if I’m wrong to want to celebrate. To want silence sometimes. To want my money used for me, too. I’m writing because I don’t know what to do—stand my ground, or give in again. Should I have my party, even if they don’t approve? Am I wrong for wanting to celebrate my birthday my way, and for wanting my home and my money not to be a ‘family decision’? Im 60 years old, and in two months, Ill be 61. Its not a milestone birthdaynot 70 or 80but to me, it matters.
A few months ago, I began creating content on social media. It wasnt because I wanted fame or craved
A few months ago, I began creating content on social media. It wasnt because I wanted fame or craved
Im 89 years old. They tried to scam me over the phone. But I was an engineer. The phone rang that Tuesday
I am seventy years old, and only now do I realise that I spent a lifetime caring for everyone else before
The flat was bought by my son: declared my mother-in-law I first met my wife while we were both at university
Divorce Over the Neighbour – Just explain it to me, William of all the women in the world, why her?
