**Diary Entry – 19th April**
I’m only 49, but my younger sister seems to think my days of having a personal life are over and that I ought to be her unpaid nanny for her ten-year-old son. I adore little Oliver—he’s the best nephew a man could ask for—but I’m not prepared to sacrifice my own life just to look after him constantly. This whole mess started years ago, and since then, it’s only gotten worse.
**How it began**
My sister, Emma, is seven years younger than me. She was always a bit spoilt—the baby of the family, coddled and indulged. When she had Oliver, I was thrilled to be an uncle. He’s a bright, cheerful lad, great fun to be around. I used to take him on weekend outings, to the park, bake him biscuits—the lot. But over time, Emma started taking my help for granted.
After her divorce, she was left raising Oliver alone. She works long hours, often late, sometimes even goes on business trips. I understand it’s hard for her, so I’ve always pitched in—babysitting, picking him up from school, helping with homework. But the last couple of years, she’s started acting as if I’m obliged to do it. *“You’re free, no wife or kids of your own—might as well make yourself useful,”* she once said. I was speechless. Just because I’m single doesn’t mean my time isn’t my own.
**Life at 49**
I’m 49, work as an accountant at a small firm, and have my own interests. I go to the pub with mates, take pottery classes, even play a bit of cricket on weekends. I’ve been saving for a trip to Italy for two years—Rome, Florence, the whole lot. But Emma seems to think my days should revolve around Oliver. *“You’re his uncle—it’s your duty,”* she says. And when I push back, she snaps, *“It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.”*
Recently, things got ridiculous. Emma announced she wanted Oliver in extra tutoring for maths, but the sessions run late. Without blinking, she expected me to drop everything and drive halfway across London to fetch him. I refused—told her I had plans, including a pottery class I wasn’t skipping. She acted as if I’d betrayed her. *“So your hobbies matter more than family now? Oliver doesn’t mean anything to you?”* That stung. Of course he matters, but why must I give up everything for him?
**The nephew I love**
Make no mistake—I love Oliver. He’s brilliant: tells me about his football matches, shares stories from school, we laugh at *Peppa Pig* reruns. But I’m not his father. I don’t have the energy—or the inclination—to be a full-time babysitter. Worse, I’ve noticed Emma offloading more of her parenting onto me. Last week, she asked me to talk to him about his slipping grades because *“he listens to you more.”* I did, but that’s not my job.
I’ve tried talking to her. Told her I’ll help—within reason. Suggested hiring a sitter or asking her ex-in-laws (they live nearby). But she just waved it off. *“Sitters cost money, and you’re free.”* Feels like she’s using me because it’s convenient.
**Finding balance**
Now I’m stuck. I don’t want a row with Emma, and I don’t want Oliver thinking his uncle doesn’t care. But I’m tired of being the on-call babysitter. I want to live my own life without feeling guilty for not jumping at her every demand. Maybe I’ve been too soft—maybe I need to set firmer boundaries.
If anyone’s been in this spot, tell me—how do you say *“no”* to family without wrecking things? Or am I really being selfish here? Could use some outside perspective.
**Lesson learned:** Blood doesn’t obligate you to be at someone’s beck and call—even family. Kindness shouldn’t mean self-erasure.
