My daughter and son-in-law have left my grandchildren with me for the entire holidays, expecting me to feed and entertain them on my limited pension.
Today’s children and grandchildren seem increasingly self-centered—constantly demanding attention, care, and time while only offering indifference and criticism in return. Why do they treat the elderly like this? As if we, the older generation, don’t have our own lives and desires—just sitting around babysitting grandchildren like hired help. And the moment I ask for help myself, suddenly everyone is too busy for me, as if I’m a stranger.
My daughter has two sons—the eldest is 12, and the youngest is 4. I live in a small village outside of York, and all I have is a modest pension and the peace and quiet I cherish. I’m not sure how my daughter and her husband are raising them or what’s going on at school, but these boys are growing up to be true slackers. They never clean up after themselves, don’t even make their beds—it’s chaos. They turn their noses up at my cooking and demand all sorts of junk. It’s a nightmare!
When the grandchildren were little, I helped my daughter all I could—I fussed over them, babysat, and ran to the shops. But for the last five years, I’ve been retired, and have tried to step back from being an eternal nanny. This year, before the autumn holidays, I sighed with relief as I checked the calendar. I realized there were no long weekends in early November. That meant, I thought, my daughter and her husband wouldn’t be going away, and I’d have some peace. How wrong I was!
Sunday, right before the last week of October, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find my daughter, Emma, standing there with her two sons. Before even properly saying hello, she blurted out:
“Hi Mum! The boys are here for the holidays!”
I was stunned.
“Emma, why didn’t you give me a heads-up? What’s this surprise about?”
“Honestly, Mum, if I warned you, you’d just come up with a thousand excuses not to take them!” she shot back, tugging the coats off the boys. “James and I are off to a wellness retreat for a week—I’m at my wit’s end, I’m exhausted!”
“But what about your work? There aren’t any extra days off this year!” I tried to reason, feeling panic swell inside.
“We’re using our holiday days, and James took an extra three days off. Mum, I’ve no time to explain, we’re running late!” she said, kissed me on the cheek, and dashed out the door, leaving me with two suitcases and the kids.
It wasn’t five minutes before the house was in an uproar. The TV was blaring, coats and shoes were strewn across the hallway, and the boys were tearing around like a tornado. I tried to get them to tidy up, at least to put away their clothes, but they ignored me completely, as if I didn’t exist. They turned their noses up at my soup, insisting their mum promised them pizza. That was the last straw for me.
I grabbed my phone and called Emma:
“Emma, your kids are demanding pizza! I’m not buying that for them!”
“I’ve already ordered you takeout,” she brushed me off, clearly annoyed. “Mum, they won’t eat your porridge; it’s always causing arguments. Take them out, do something fun, have a decent meal! You complain they wear you out at home!”
“And how am I supposed to afford entertaining them? On my pension?” I protested, feeling the blood rush to my face.
“What else do you spend it on? They’re your grandchildren, not strangers! I can’t believe you’d say that!” she scoffed and hung up.
And that was it. I was left alone with this chaos. All my life, I worked tirelessly for my only daughter—holding down two jobs, saving every penny to ensure her comfort. And now, in my old age, this is the ‘thanks’ I get! I’m shaking from the injustice, the helplessness, and the sheer unfairness of it all.
I love my grandchildren, I truly do. But they get tired of me, and I of them—the age gap is huge, and I’m not young enough to chase after them all day. But my daughter seems to believe I’m a free servant, that my pension and time belong to her and her kids. It’s their right, and my responsibilities. They’re pure and simple selfish! And I sit here, looking at this mess, listening to their shouts, wondering: is this what my twilight years are supposed to be like? Is this all I deserve?
