My daughter and son-in-law dumped my grandkids on me for the entire holiday break. Here I am, a pensioner, expected to feed and entertain them.
Modern children and grandchildren seem to have turned into little tyrantsall they do is demand attention, care, and time, giving nothing in return but indifference and complaints. Whats with this entitled attitude towards grandparents? As if we elderly folk dont have lives or desires of our ownno, apparently we exist solely to babysit on demand. But the moment *I* need help? Suddenly, everyones too busy, as if Im some stranger.
My daughter has two sonsOliver, 12, and Archie, 4. I live in a quiet little village in Cornwall, and all Ive got is my modest pension and the peace I cherish. I dont know how my daughter and her husband are raising them or whats going on at school, but those boys are turning into proper little layabouts. They never tidy up after themselvesnot even their bedsleaving the place looking like a hurricane passed through. And as for food? They turn their noses up at my cooking and demand junk instead. Absolute nightmare!
When the boys were little, I helped my daughter tirelesslyrocking them, running errands, playing endless games. But since retiring five years ago, Ive tried to step back from the eternal babysitter role. This autumn, I checked the school calendar and breathed a sigh of reliefno half-term break in early November! “Brilliant,” I thought. “No impromptu visits from the grandkids.” Oh, how wrong I was.
That Sunday, just before October half-term, the doorbell rang. There stood my daughter, Emily, with the boys in tow. Before I could even say hello, she blurted:
“Mum, hi! Youre on grandkid dutyholidays have started!”
I gaped at her.
“Emily, why didnt you tell me? What sort of surprise is this?”
“If I told you, youd invent a hundred excuses not to take them!” she huffed, yanking off their coats. “Daniel and I are off to a spa for the weekIm exhausted!”
“Wait, what about work? There arent any extra days off this year!” I spluttered, panic rising.
“Weve used leave. Daniel took unpaid days. Mum, no time to explain, were late!” With that, she pecked my cheek and bolted, leaving me with two suitcases and two overexcited boys.
Within minutes, my peaceful home was a warzone. The telly blared, shoes and jumpers littered the hall, and the boys ricocheted off the walls like pinballs. I begged them to tidy up, but they ignored me as if I were invisible. Then they turned their noses up at my stew, declaring, “Mum said we could have pizza!” Thats when I snapped.
I grabbed the phone and called Emily.
“Your children are demanding pizza! I am *not* ordering takeaway!”
“Already sortedits on its way,” she dismissed, sounding irritated. “Mum, they wont eat your stew, and then its all meltdowns. Take them out somewhere, feed them properly! You always moan they drive you mad at home!”
“And whose pension is meant to fund these outings, eh?” I shot back, my face burning.
“What else are you spending it on? Theyre your *grandchildren*not strangers!” she scoffed before hanging up.
So there I was, stranded in chaos. Id worked two jobs my whole life, scrimping to give my only daughter everything. And now, in my golden years, this is my thanks? Shaken with fury and helplessness, I watched the mess unfoldshouting, mess, total disregard.
I love those boys, truly. But they tire me out, and I bore themthe age gaps too wide for me to keep up. Meanwhile, Emily treats me like free childcare, as if my pension and time belong to her family. Their *rights*, my *duties*. Selfish, the lot of them! And as I sit here, drowning in the noise, I cant help but wonderis this really what my retirement amounts to? Did I really deserve this?
