My daughter and son-in-law dumped the grandkids on me for the whole school break. And here I am, on my pension, expected to feed and entertain them.
Kids these daysgrandkids includedare so selfish. They demand all your time, attention, and care, then give nothing back but indifference and complaints. What is this entitled attitude toward us old folks? Like we dont have our own lives, our own wantsjust sit with the grandkids like some unpaid nanny. But the second I need a hand? Suddenly, everyones too busy. Like Im nothing to them.
My daughters got two boysOlivers twelve, little Alfies four. I live in a quiet village in Devon, and all Ive got is my modest pension and the peace Ive earned. No idea how my daughter and her husband are raising them, or whats going on at school, but those boys are lazy as can be. Wont pick up after themselvesdont even make their beds! The place looks like a tornados hit it. And food? Turn their noses up at proper meals, whinging for takeaways. Absolute nightmare.
When they were tiny, I bent over backwards for my daughterbabysitting, running errands, doing all the heavy lifting. But Ive been retired five years now, and I swore I was done being the free babysitter. This autumn, I checked the school calendar and sighed with reliefno half-term break in early November. Thought that meant my daughter and her husband wouldnt go anywhere, and Id finally have some peace. Oh, how wrong I was.
Last Sunday, right before half-term, my doorbell goes. Open itand theres my daughter, Emily, with the boys. Barely a hello before she blurts out:
*”Mum, hi! Youve got the kidshalf-term starts today!”*
I froze. *”Emily, why didnt you warn me? Whats this sudden nonsense?”*
*”If I warned you, youd come up with a million excuses not to take them!”* she snaps, already shoving their coats off. *”James and I are off to a spa weekendIm exhausted!”*
*”Wait, what about work? Theres no extra holiday this year!”* Im scrambling, panic rising.
*”Weve taken leave, James booked a few unpaid days. Mum, no time to explainwere late!”* She pecks my cheek and bolts, leaving me with two suitcases and two hyper kids.
Five minutes in, and the house is a warzone. TV blaring, shoes and jackets strewn everywhere, the boys tearing about like wild things. I try to get them to tidy up, but they ignore me like Im invisible. Refuse my homemade stew, whining their mum promised pizza. Thats when I snapped.
I ring Emily: *”Your kids are demanding takeaway! Im not buying that rubbish!”*
*”Already ordered delivery,”* she huffs, irritated. *”Mum, they wont eat your stewlast time it was a full meltdown. Take them out somewhere, do something fun! Youre always moaning they wear you out at home!”*
*”And whos paying for that? My pension?”* Im fuming now, blood boiling.
*”What else are you spending it on? Theyre your grandkids, not strangers! Cant believe youd say that!”* She clicks off.
And thats that. Left alone with this chaos. Spent my whole life slaving for my only childdouble shifts, pinching penniesso shed have it better. And now, in my old age, this is my thanks? Shaking with hurt, with anger.
I love those boys, I do. But they exhaust me, and I exhaust themtoo much age between us. Im not some spring chicken anymore. Yet my daughter acts like my time, my money, my home are hers to claim. Like its her right and my duty. Selfish. Just pure selfishness. And here I sit, staring at the mess, listening to their shouts, wonderingis this really what my golden years look like? Is this all Ive earned?
