t humor, sitting down on our armchair and not even saying hello to Mark.

Her comment was perfect because it assured me that I was making the right choice.

So, I didn’t waste more time. “Ethan told us what you said to him last week,” I began. “About Mark and me and our family.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, that? I was just being honest,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “He needs to understand how the real world works.”

Mark’s voice was sharp.

“Telling an 8-year-old that his parents are losers is your idea of honesty?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. I was just preparing him for reality.

He needs to know life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.”

“What he needs is love and support,” I snapped. “Not your judgmental comments. Do you have any idea how much you hurt him?

Did you even notice he wasn’t eating last night?”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt him,” she said, looking annoyed. “But really… it’s just the truth. You can’t provide enough.

He should have more.”

“More?” Mark said, standing and pacing the living room. “We work hard to give Ethan a good life. All he needs is us by his side.

You don’t get to tear our family down just because you think we don’t measure up to your standards.”

Mom’s face turned red. “Things wouldn’t be this way if Umma had listened,” she retorted and turned her angry eyes to me. “If you had married the man I wanted for you, none of this would’ve happened.”

I saw that my husband was about to explode, so I stood and spoke first.

“That’s enough. Get out of my house! Until you can show us all the respect we deserve, we’re cutting you off.”

Her jaw tightened.

“What? You can’t do that!”

“Yes, we can,” Mark said, walking to our front door and opening it wide. “We might be losers, but this is our house, and we’ve had enough of you.”

Mom looked at me one more time, but I only raised my eyebrows expectantly.

With a huff, she grabbed her purse and stormed out.

Mark slammed the door behind her and barked a laugh.

I didn’t, but I felt a weight off my shoulders.

Since then, our son has been thriving. It’s a little hard not being able to ask Mom to pick Ethan up, but we arranged a carpool schedule with other moms.

Weeks later, on an evening close to Christmas, I confirmed that this had been the right decision while baking cookies from a box mix. Ethan looked up at me with a big smile.

“Mom, I think our family is the best,” he said.

My throat felt too tight as I smiled back.

“Me too, buddy. Me too.”

I don’t know if my mom will ever make her way back into our lives, but so far, she hasn’t even tried. Her pride and toxicity don’t allow her to see the big picture or what truly matters in life.

My advice is: Protect your kids, even if you have to pull away from other family members.

The holidays should be joyful, not a source of stress and tears. Do what’s best for your household!

Source: amomama