“I’m Off on Holiday—I’m Not Playing Babysitter!” My Mother-in-Law Left Me in the Lurch, So I Got My Own Back

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 3 minViews 1

Im going on holiday, Im not here to babysit anyone! My mother-in-law let me down, but I gave her a taste of her own medicine.

Every family has its secrets and troubles. Some families argue about inheritances, others struggle with alcoholism or infidelity, and others just lack shared values or interests. We dont have those issues, but if it werent for my mother-in-law, things would be pretty perfect. I spent years trying to get along with her, but its just never worked.

I understand how close the bond between parents and children can be. But a mummys boy at thirty-seven is just too much! My husband and his mother are full of secrets, always whispering and chatting about things behind my back. I also get the sense that my mother-in-law isnt particularly fond of our son, her own grandson.

Heres what happened to us recently. Every summer, our son almost always spends a few weeks with my parents at their cottage, but my mother-in-law can never seem to look after him for even a week or two.

This year, with everything thats happened because of the virus, my mum couldnt get any time off as shes a doctor. My dad isnt well enough to look after our son on his own. I wasnt able to take leave from work either So naturally, we ended up depending on my mother-in-law. We arranged everything with her over a month ago.

But a week before she was meant to take our son, she rang me and said:
Ive been given a holiday as a gift, so youll need to sort something else for the boy.

I was gobsmacked. I actually hung up the phone, I was so shocked. I honestly had no back-up plan. She was off on a lovely holiday and didnt spare a single thought for her grandson. Later, I found out she hadnt been given the trip at allshed bought it for herself, knowing full well she was meant to be looking after our son.

She even asked my husband to look after her greenhouse and water the garden while she was away, but, as always, he was too busy with work and the job landed straight on my shoulders. That time, though, I put my foot down.

You left me in the lurch and lied to me. I wont be doing you any favours. If you want a break, have your break. If your crops dry up, thats your concern, not mine.

Of course, she was livid, but she didnt cancel her trip. Now Im racing around, trying to find a holiday club for my son so he has somewhere to go.

Did I do the right thing?

A Miracle Didn’t Happen Tanya left the hospital with her newborn son. But there was no miracle—her parents didn’t come to meet her. The spring sun was shining, she pulled her now-loose jacket tight, grabbed her bag with clothes and paperwork in one hand, adjusted her baby with the other, and started walking. She had nowhere to go. Her parents had flatly refused to let her bring the baby home—her mother demanded she give him up. But Tanya had grown up in care herself, after her own mother abandoned her, and she’d vowed never to do the same, no matter what it cost. She’d been adopted by a decent couple—not rich, often ill, but kind and indulgent, so she never really learned independence. Now, Tanya understood she was partially to blame for her son’s absent father; he’d seemed serious, promised to introduce her to his family, but when she told him she was pregnant, he’d said he wasn’t ready for nappies, left, and blocked her number. Tanya sighed. “No one’s ready—not the father, not my parents,” she thought. “But I’m ready to take responsibility.” She sat on a bench, letting the sun warm her face. Where could she go? People had said there were shelters for mothers like her, but she’d been too shy to ask about them, hoping her parents would change their minds and come. But they hadn’t. She decided to go to the countryside, to stay with her gran—she’d help out in the garden while receiving Child Benefit, and find a job later. Things would work out; grannies are usually kind. She shifted her sleepy son, pulled out her battered phone, and nearly walked in front of a car. The driver—an older, tall man—jumped out, scolding Tanya for not watching where she was going, saying she could have killed herself and the baby and left him with jail time. Tanya, frightened and teary-eyed, comforted her now-wailing son. The man calmed down and asked where she was going. Sniffling, Tanya admitted she didn’t know. “Well, hop in,” he said. “You and the little one can come to mine, get settled, and we’ll sort things out.” He introduced himself as Mr Constantine Gregory, and helped her in. At his roomy flat, he offered a bedroom for Tanya and her baby and fetched essentials, refusing any money. He quickly enlisted a friendly neighbour who was a doctor; she drew up a list and called in a visiting nurse for tomorrow. Later, Constantine Gregory confided that he’d lost his only son, Saveliy, in a tragic motorbike accident before his wedding. He’d never met his late son’s child—though he had a photo of the bride-to-be and knew she’d been expecting. “Stay here,” he urged Tanya. “You and the baby—this is your home now. I’m lonely, and would love some family around.” Tanya agreed happily—and revealed that she’s adopted from care, her birth mother leaving only a locket on her blanket. When she emerged in new clothes, Mr Constantine Gregory noticed the locket and, upon opening it with a special mechanism, discovered a lock of his late son’s hair inside. Realising that Tanya was actually his granddaughter, he joyfully embraced her and her son, refusing any DNA test—“You’re my granddaughter, and he’s my great-grandson. Case closed.” “Would you like to see photos of your parents?” he asked, his eyes shining with tears of happiness. By Sofia Corall.

My Husband Only Thinks of Himself—He Eats Absolutely Everything and Never Leaves Anything for Our Son! “Adam, where have all the bananas gone?” I ask my husband. “I ate them, I fancied some.” “Couldn’t you have left even one for our son’s tea?” “You’re just making a fuss. It’s not like the shops have run out of bananas.” “Then go and get some more.” “I’ve got a football match. How can I go?” This is how things are in our home all the time: cottage cheese, biscuits, apples—you name it. I even have to hide food, otherwise with a father like this, my little boy might end up hungry. We’ve been married for five years, and our son’s nearly two. We’ve got a mortgage, so money is tight. My husband claims he’s the breadwinner because he got us this home—although, in truth, he just sold his single-bed flat for the deposit, with my parents’ help. My mum thinks Adam is a selfish so-and-so, and honestly, I tend to agree. One day, we were preparing for a birthday party. I’m cooking for the guests and he’s constantly under my feet, emptying the plates. The worst was when he got at the cake. I’d left it on the balcony because the fridge was full. I went to fetch it, and all that was left was one decorated slice of chocolate. Imagine how embarrassed I was! This happens all the time. Sure, he works, but it’s possible to be sensible and think of others. His only excuse: “We’ll buy some more, don’t stress!” Fine, don’t think about me, but how can a father not think about his own child? Especially when we barely have enough money, and I’m counting on every bit. He can easily eat a month’s worth of food in a week. “Why are you bothering him? He’s a man, let him eat. He earns the money. Don’t whinge, just cook more,” my mother-in-law defends him. Thing is, no matter how much I cook, it’s never enough—he’ll eat everything. We can’t afford to just buy more, with the mortgage, the clothes, the bills. After all this, I told my husband that if he does it again—we’re getting divorced. We’ll split the flat and go our separate ways. He took offence, ran to his mother, and now my mother-in-law isn’t even speaking to me. But I honestly think I’m right. What do you think?