I stopped cooking and cleaning for my grown-up sons and the result really surprised me. Mum, why hasnt
Mother-in-law Demanded a Duplicate Key to Our Flat, but My Husband Took My Side Friday, 12th October
My husbands sister once left her children with us and disappeared for three days Please, Emily, please!
Oh, Mrs Thompson, not this again! We agreed, didnt we? The cottage is for unwinding, to recharge the
Daughter-in-law endured her mother-in-law: heres what came of it Twins?! Margaret exclaimed, unable to
Mums moving in tomorrow morning. Ive sorted it with Uncle Colin; hell give us a hand with moving her things.
I realised my ex-husband was cheating on me the moment he started sweeping the street outside our house.
“Button? I called her Holly. She was running about all morning, obviously lost – then curled up at my feet. So I tucked her in the car to keep her warm, the poor thing,” the man smiled…
“Tammy, how can you be so unlucky? How many times have I told you, Vicky’s not the right one for you!” her mother scolded Tamara.
She stood, head bowed, and though she’d just turned thirty-seven, she felt like a schoolgirl who’d brought home a failing grade. Tamara’s heart ached for herself, her failed marriage, and her little daughter—especially now, with the magic of Christmas around the corner, and no father in their home.
“I’m leaving you,” Victor muttered carelessly that evening. Tamara stared blankly, not comprehending, as she set down a fragrant bowl of stew. “Where are you going?” she asked automatically.
Victor rolled his eyes, “You just don’t get serious things, Tammy. And that yappy dog of yours, and our daughter’s always ill. No romance, no spark. Just look at yourself! What have you become?” And with that, he began packing his bags.
Sensing trouble, their little dog Button circled Tamara’s feet, whining to comfort her.
“At least now I’ll finally get some rest from her barking,” Victor called from the door, hoisting his duffle.
“But what about Eva?” Tamara whispered, imagining how their five-year-old would be devastated.
“Sort it out, you’re her mother, after all!” he replied, and left to Button’s howls.
Tamara sat at the kitchen table all night, clutching the dog, who licked her face gently, as if to say she understood something terrible was happening.
For days, Tamara hid the truth from her mother and dodged questions about her job search. But finally, her mother visited—and Tamara broke down, admitting Victor had left days prior and the job offers weren’t coming.
Her mother scowled, “It was obvious from the start: five years together, a child, and he never married you!” Still, she promised to help look after Eva when needed, though she’d never liked Button—the street pup Tamara had once rescued.
Another week passed. Tamara started work at Eva’s nursery; Eva was delighted, but worried, “Mum, can we take Button too? Gran grumbles about walking her—maybe Button could guard us during nap time and help you wash dishes!” Eva beamed.
Tamara would laugh and hug her daughter, though Eva’s next question always stung: “Mummy, will Daddy be home for Christmas?”
Not wanting to break the truth, Tamara invented a business trip. Victor, when reached, urged her not to disturb his new ‘private life,’ and suggested she tell Eva he was a ‘super-spy on a top-secret mission.’
As New Year’s Eve crept closer, Tamara dreaded the holiday alone, unsure how to explain everything to Eva.
One day, Eva’s grandmother took her to the doctor after she’d caught a cold. Around the corner, they bumped into Victor. “Daddy! You’re back!” Eva cried—but he awkwardly explained that he wouldn’t be living with them anymore and hurried away. That night, Eva’s temperature rose, and she stopped speaking, eating, or drinking. The doctor blamed stress.
Then, another blow: Gran lost Button while walking her, accidentally letting her slip away without a leash.
Eva stubbornly refused to eat, vowing, “I’ll only have dinner when Button comes back.” Tamara searched the streets every evening, growing desperate.
On New Year’s Eve, with Eva still sick and heartbroken over her missing friend and absent father, Tamara tried to comfort her: “There’s no big tree, sweetheart, but we’ve got each other…” But Eva sobbed, “We need a real Christmas tree. Then Button will come home—just like in my dream!”
Unable to afford a fresh tree, Tamara bundled up and dashed out into the snowy dusk. Passing cheerful families, she barely noticed them—frantically calling for Button, scouring every street.
She stumbled upon a nearly empty Christmas tree lot. The last tree was unsold, guarded by a burly man in an old winter coat. “Last one left—two-for-one if you want it!” he called out.
Flustered, Tamara admitted she couldn’t afford a tree, but dared to ask for leftover branches. The man, moved by her sad story, offered the branches—and then, impulsively, loaded the final tree onto his van, insisting on delivering it for free.
When she climbed into the van, Tamara gasped—there on the seat, Button slept, snug in a woolly jumper. “Button? I called her Holly. She was running about lost this morning, then curled up at my feet. Couldn’t let the poor thing freeze, so I took her in,” the man smiled kindly.
He introduced himself as Paul—a fellow animal lover, recently heartbroken himself.
Soon, Tamara’s home felt unusually warm and bright—not least because of the kindness of strangers, the reunion with Button, and maybe, just maybe, a bit of everyday Christmas magic.
Nobody can say exactly how it happened—but what’s certain is this: Tamara, Eva, and sometimes even Gran, called their little dog both Button and Holly from that day on. And a new family found happiness, when it once seemed lost. Button? I called her Holly. She was running about all morning here. You could tell immediately she was lost.
She claimed to be an orphan to marry into a wealthy family and hired me as a nanny for my own grandson.
Dad, do you remember Helen Alexandra Martinson? Its already late today, but come over to mine tomorrow.
