When my husband, Jake, accidentally said, “Don’t worry, my mom is covered,” I should have trust my intestine.
In the way he said it was something – a little too fast, a little too forced – that created a small alarm bell in the back of my mind. But with the contractions that were approaching and my hospital bag has already been packed.
I threw off an unpleasant feeling. Finally, how hard could it be to walk and feed the dog for several days? I knew a little that simple kindness would soon turn into a ridiculous demand – and a clearing that I had never seen.
A few days before I went to work, I asked my husband Jakea to make sure someone would be available to take care of our dog, Rich. He assured me that his mom, Abigail, could do it.
The work was hard, but the moment I held our boy in my arms, it was all worth it.
When we finally returned home, exhausted, but excited, I noticed that there was a note on the kitchen table. I was hoping that in the warm message “welcome home” – instead I found it:
“You owe me $ 600 for walking and feeding the rich. My time is valuable. I included my bank details.”
At first I thought it had to be a joke. It wasn’t. She was absolutely serious.
A week later, Abigail came to meet the child. The first thing from her mouth was not congratulations – it was:
“So, Doris, when can I expect my payment? I have been patient long enough.”
I smiled sweetly and replied
“Of course, Abigail. I’ll pay you – but only for one condition.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Condition? What condition?”
I calmly switched to the table and pulled out the folder I prepared before. During the last few sleepless nights, I documented every kindness, every dollar and how and when I spent on it – did not include gifts – all laid in black and white.
Sliding the folder to her, I said, said,
“Since we are now pricing in family kindness, it’s just fair, we do the same.”
She leaned, suspiciously monitored the folder and asked
“What is that?”
“Consider it as a detailed invoice,” I explained. “Professional courtesy.”
When the pages scanned, I continued:
“Do we help you move last year? This is $ 800 – discounted compared to what is being charged. The car repairs we paid for when your transmission died? $ 1,200. FREE for your neighbor’s children because you asked? Another $ 600.”
Abigail’s face reddish when she sparkled:
“That’s outrageous! You can’t charge your family for help!”
I leaned slightly, my voice calm but firm:
“Exactly. The family helps each other without expecting money. At least I believed it.”
She stammered and desperately tried to defend:
“But … But that was different! I had to organize my schedule again to take care of the rich!”
I shrugged and said
“And all my life I have settled to bring your grandson to the world. If we are talking about compensation, I think we are more than just.”
She just stood there for a moment, staring at me as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. Then she turned without a word and went out of the house and killed the door behind her.
Jake, who quietly watched from the kitchen, passed and wrapped me into a hug, a small, proud smile on his face.
“No one and my wife mess up,” he said, kissing me on his face.
“Damn,” I replied, grinning.
Rich threw himself, threw his tail happily and put his head on his knee. When I scratched my ears and looked down at a small bundle in my arms, I felt completely calm.
Maybe Abigail did not learn her lesson – but at least $ 600 will never come again. And if so?
I still had the folder ready.
Let it try.
In the end, my country’s position was not just about $ 600 – it was a boundary. The state has learned me that the protection of my peace and well -being my family must be the first, although it meant hard conversations. Abigail might not have seen it that way, but I was finally done to use. With my husband at my side, our child in his arms and richly drilling the tail at the feet, I knew that this new chapter of our lives was starting under our own conditions – stronger, wiser and completely unshakable.