“No more help until she leaves that good-for-nothing: I told my daughter to be independent.”
“Not a penny from us until she divorces him.” Thats what I told my daughterI wont lift a finger to help her until she leaves that layabout.
Every day, our home shakes with argumentsnot between my husband and me, but because of my son-in-law. The man my daughter married is unbelievably lazy and irresponsible. He hasnt held a proper job in over a year, picking up odd jobs here and there, then wasting the rest of his time doing nothing. My daughter carries the entire familys weight, raising two small children while on maternity leave. And him? He just exists.
Of course, my daughter cant work full-timethe twins demand constant attention. I offered to help, but on one condition. A strict, clear one: not a single pound more until she divorces that parasite. Because helping her would, in a way, mean supporting him too. And I refuse to fund someone elses laziness.
I never liked Oliver from the start. I hoped shed wake up, that it would pass. But nothey went and got married. Youth, love, illusionsit all clouded her judgment. Now were left dealing with the consequences.
My husband and I gave them Grandmas flat. It used to be rented out, our only extra income in retirement. But the young ones couldnt afford rent, so we handed it over. All I asked was a little refurbishmentjust enough to make it comfortable for the children.
Thats when Oliver showed his true colors:
“Im not doing that. Im not a handyman, Im an intellectual. Hire professionals if you want it done.”
With what money, I ask you? He hasnt earned enough to buy a screwdriver. All he does is philosophize and whine about his bad luck. Work evenings? Impossible. Weekends? “Thats time to rest.” Hes grown used to everything being handed to him.
When I told him outright he was a layabout, he took offence. “Youre being unfair to me.” And my daughter? Instead of backing me up, she snapped:
“Because of you, weve been fighting again. Why do you have to interfere?”
I decided to step back. But I made one thing clear: if she chose this mess, she could deal with it. Dont come begging later. But when I found out she was expecting twins, my heart broke. I thought Oliver might pull himself togetherbut no. Nothing. Everything fell on us. We finished the refurb, bought cribs, even took my daughter to the doctor. Him? Still sprawled on the sofa, glued to his laptop.
Sophie did her best, but I could see she was starting to realise who shed married. Together, we managed to get the flat readyall done by hand. He did buy a few cheap trinkets in the sales laterhardly an excuse. When you have a family to support, you step up. Him? Just a tenant in a house where everyone else does the work.
Then we found out how they were scraping bytheyd taken out a credit card. Without telling us. Keeping it hidden. Then came the call:
“Mum, we cant manage. Help us”
I was furious.
“Sophie! You had children with a man who cant even change a lightbulb! How did you think youd cope alone?”
“Were just going through a rough patch”
“What rough patch? Youve got a home, parents carrying the weight. And him? He wont take a jobthe pays too low, the commutes too long, the hours dont suit him!”
“Mum, you dont understand Hes looking! He just wont work for peanuts!”
“But you live on peanuts! You, your children, and himall on our backs!”
Ive had enough. I wont be a cash cow. I told her:
“Until you divorce him, forget our help. Not another penny. If you want to stay with him, deal with it.”
She burst into tears.
“You want my children to grow up without a father?”
And then I said what Id been thinking for years:
“Better no father than one like him. A man who lives off others.”
Im a mother. But I wont be a victim. I want my daughter to raise her children with a man, not a dead weight. I want her to respect herself. To not ask for help while he sips his tea in peace.
She hung up in silence, but I knowone day, shell understand.
