In the evening, my husband’s sister called and scolded me for kicking my two adult daughters out of my apartment.
“How could you do this? If my brother Greg were alive, he would never allow you to treat your children this way! Your eldest daughter with a small child in her arms, and the youngest one is pregnant! What are you doing? How will they survive?”
“It’s their problem. They have to figure it out.”
“Why is it their problem? You are their mother!”
“Yes, I am their mother! And as their mother, I will decide how to handle my daughters!” I interrupted and hung up the phone.
Two weeks ago, I warned both my daughters that they needed to find their own place to live. I don’t want to live with them or support them and their husbands anymore.
Greg passed away a long time ago. I raised them on my own. I provided them with a higher education and tried not to deny them anything. Over the years, no one has helped me.
My parents passed away before my wedding, and I inherited a nice two-room apartment from them.
When my eldest daughter finished college, she brought her boyfriend to our house a month later and said, “This is Nick, my future husband. We have already applied to the registry office. After the wedding, we will live with you. Is that okay?”
Before, my daughters shared a room, while I had my own. As soon as Emily married Nick, Olivia moved in to live with me.
A couple of months later, Emily gave birth to a child.
“We don’t have money. Nick earns very little, and I’m on maternity leave!” my eldest daughter told me when I asked them to contribute money or buy food.
Everything I bought and cooked disappeared quickly.
“I won’t clean the toilet after someone else’s husband!” Olivia snapped.
“I’ll clean, but you and my child will sit tight!” Emily demanded.
“Give the child to your husband. He’s still a freeloader to you!” Olivia replied.
We had these arguments in our house all the time. Nobody wanted to do anything. I did everything alone. Nick couldn’t even take out the trash.
That’s how we lived for three years. Emily and her husband never saved up for a mortgage. My patience ran out when I entered the kitchen and found Olivia sitting there with her boyfriend, Victor. She informed me that they were getting married and planned to live with us.
“Where? In the kitchen?”
“No! In the room! Will you give us a room? And you can live in the kitchen yourself! I’m pregnant!”
I didn’t expect such audacity from my children. I immediately called my eldest daughter and her husband and announced my decision to the entire family. They had two weeks to find a new home and move out. They are adults now, so let their husbands start taking responsibility.
At first, my daughters didn’t believe it, and then they were in shock. I did everything I could: raising them, providing for them, supporting their education. They are mothers themselves now, so let them live independently and rely only on themselves and their husbands. And for a while, I want to live peacefully.
My daughters started threatening me that I would never see my grandchildren. I smiled. We’ll see how they manage without my help.
But we will definitely not live together!
Do you agree with the mother’s decision?