My husband believed 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 said.
But when he fired her to “save money,” I decided to teach him a lesson in value — the hard way.
Money has a way of revealing people’s true colors.
I learned this the hard way when my husband Miles showed me exactly who he was — not through his words, but through his actions toward my mother.
The day he fired her from watching our kids, he didn’t just break her heart, he shattered my faith in him.
But sometimes, the best lessons come from letting someone experience exactly what they’ve taken for granted. Here’s how it all started…
“We need another baby,” Miles said one evening, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he helped me load the dishwasher.
“Just imagine Evie with a little sister or brother. Don’t you want that for her?”
I placed the last plate in the rack, trying to ignore the way my stomach tightened at his words. “I’m happy with just Evie.
She’s perfect as she is.”
“Come on, Jenny.” He dried his hands and hugged me from behind. “I always dreamed of having a big family. Remember how lonely I was as an only child?” He reached for my hand.
“I promise I’ll help more. You won’t have to do it alone.”
“You say that now, but —”
“I mean it. Every diaper change, every late-night feeding… I’ll be there.
Trust me.”
“Like you were there last night when Evie had a fever?”
His face fell. “That was different. I had the quarterly report due.”
“There’s always something, Miles.”
“This time will be different,” he insisted, pulling me close.
“Whatever happens, we’re in this together. I want us to give Evie the gift of a sibling. Please?”
I should have known better than to believe him.
Nine months later, Amber arrived, all pink cheeks and sleepless nights.
Miles’s promises evaporated like morning dew, leaving me drowning in exhaustion.
“I have an early meeting,” he often mumbled, rolling over as Amber wailed at 3 a.m.
“The presentation’s tomorrow… I really need to focus,” he’d say, while I juggled a fussy baby and a toddler demanding attention.
“Mommy, up!” Evie would plead, while I tried to breastfeed Amber and make dinner simultaneously.
“Just a minute, sweetie,” became my constant refrain, guilt gnawing at me as I watched my firstborn’s face fall.
My mother Wendy, bless her heart, saw me struggling. Sometimes, she’d stop by after her nursing shifts, still in her scrubs, just to give me an hour’s break.
“Jennifer, honey, let me help,” she said one day, watching me try to feed Amber while Evie tugged at my shirt. “I could take early retirement and watch the girls while you two work.”
“Mom, I can’t ask you to quit your nursing job.
You love it.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” She scooped up Evie, who immediately snuggled into her embrace. “Besides, what’s more important than family?
And frankly, honey, you look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”
“We’d have to pay you,” I insisted. “It’s only fair.”
“Three thousand a month would work,” she said. “Less than you’d pay for daycare, and I’ll cook and clean too.”
When I brought it up to Miles that night, his reaction was immediate.
“Three thousand? Just to watch her own grandkids?”
“She’s giving up her career for us, Miles.”
“It’s called retirement. People do it all the time, Jenny.”
The comments started small but grew more frequent, like poison ivy creeping through our home.
Mom offered to babysit, and it was such a relief — at least for me. But for Miles… well, something else was running through his head.
“Must be nice getting paid to play with your grandkids all day,” Miles would mutter when Mom wasn’t looking.
“The house could be cleaner for what we’re paying,” he grumbled, even though Mom kept our home spotless while managing two small children.
Weeks passed, and one afternoon at work, I was about to hang up after a call with Miles when I heard voices in the background. “Remember to hang up the call when you’re done,” I’d reminded him earlier.
But that day, he hadn’t, and what I heard sent a chill down my spine.
“It’s ridiculous,” he muttered, his voice crackling through the speaker. “Three grand a month for what? She should be grateful we’re letting her spend time with her grandkids.”
I froze, my blood turning to ice as I heard footsteps in the background, then my mother’s voice singing softly to Amber.
“We appreciate everything you’ve done, Wendy,” Miles said, his tone formal and cold.
“But we’ve decided it’s best for you to, uh, move on.”
“Move on?” Mom’s voice wavered slightly.
“It’s just… frankly, it’s not fair to keep paying you when daycare is a more… cost-effective solution.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Then, quietly, Mom said, “If that’s what you both want.”
“It is,” Miles replied quickly.
I heard the gentle sound of a spoon being set down, then Mom’s soft footsteps moving away.
I hung up and called Miles, but he wouldn’t answer. I rushed home to find Mom gone and Miles unrepentant.
“Where is she?” I demanded, bursting through the door.
“How could you tell her to leave?”
He was startled, then narrowed his eyes. “How did you —”
“You didn’t hang up the phone, Miles. I heard everything.”
He shrugged, recovering quickly.
“It’s for the best. She’ll be fine. And we’ll save money.”
“Save money?” I laughed bitterly.
“Let’s see how much we save.”
I tried calling Mom that night, but she wouldn’t pick up. When she finally called back the next day, her voice was brimming with unshed tears.
“I’m fine, Jennifer,” she insisted. “Actually, I’ve already found something new.
The Anderson
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