My husband thought paying my mom to babysit our two children was a waste of money. “She should be grateful just to spend time with her grandkids,” he argued. But when he fired her to “save money,” I decided to teach him a lesson—one he wouldn’t forget.
It all began one evening as we loaded the dishwasher.
“We need another baby,” Miles said excitedly. “Just imagine Evie with a little sibling. Don’t you want that for her?”
I hesitated. “I’m happy with just Evie.”
“Come on, Jenny,” he coaxed. “I promise I’ll help more.”
“You say that now, but—”
“I mean it. Every diaper change, every late-night feeding… I’ll be there.”
“Like last night, when Evie had a fever?”
His face fell. “That was different. I had a report due.”
“There’s always something, Miles.”
“This time will be different,” he swore.
I should have known better.
Nine months later, Amber arrived, and his promises vanished. Every night, I was up alone while he muttered excuses about meetings and deadlines. My mother, Wendy, saw me struggling and stepped in, offering to retire early to help with the kids.
“We’d have to pay you,” I insisted.
“Three thousand a month,” she said. “Less than daycare, and I’ll cook and clean too.”
When I told Miles, he balked. “Three grand? To watch her own grandkids?”
“She’s giving up her career for us,” I reminded him.
“It’s called retirement,” he scoffed.
He started making snide remarks. “Must be nice getting paid to play with your grandkids all day.” Or, “For what we’re paying, the house could be cleaner.”
Then one afternoon, I overheard a call Miles forgot to hang up.
“It’s ridiculous,” he told someone. “Three grand a month for what? She should be grateful we’re letting her spend time with them.”
I froze as I heard his next words.
“We appreciate everything, Wendy, but we’ve decided it’s best for you to move on.”
“Move on?” Mom’s voice wavered.
“It’s just… daycare is more cost-effective.”
Silence. Then, quietly, “If that’s what you both want.”
I stormed home. “How could you?”
“We’ll save money,” Miles shrugged.
