I’m 34 years old, Abby, and I’ve been married to Brad for seven years. Lucas, age eight, and Sophie, age six, are our two children. Jean, my mother-in-law, is in her late sixties. We’ve always had a friendly relationship, complete with polite smiles, small talk, and the occasional invitation to dinner.
However, Jean has consistently been… intense. You know, there’s this aura about her. She can be domineering, as if she’s attempting to establish herself as the ideal grandma.
Brad would shrug and remark, “She’s just old-fashioned,” anytime I brought it up. “She means well.”
I made an effort to think so. I ignored the small things for years. The time she reprimanded Sophie for eating with her hands, exclaiming, “Not under my roof, young lady!” or her insistence on calling Lucas her boy.
“Abby, how would you feel about me taking Lucas and Sophie for a whole week during their holiday break?” Jean asked me cheerfully over the phone last month. My stomach flipped slightly.
“A week?” Unexpectedly, I repeated.
“Yes! Just treat them to death; I’d love to have them all to myself. Wouldn’t you and Brad benefit from the time? A brief respite?”
Brad gave me the thumbs up when I looked at him. He went on to say, “They’ll have fun,”
“Okay,” I reluctantly said.
She was so excited that she virtually squealed. “Oh, dear, don’t worry about anything. They’ll be well taken care of.”
I handed Jean $1,000 to cover their expenditures before I sent them off.
“This is just to make sure you don’t have to dip into your savings for food or anything they might need this week,” I added, passing the envelope to Jean.
She initially had a startled expression before beaming. “That’s very considerate of you, Abby! Don’t worry, I’ll make excellent use of it. This is going to be the most amazing week for these youngsters.”
The week passed more slowly than I had anticipated. I thought I would like the silence, but I kept reaching for my phone to make unnecessary calls to Lucas and Sophie.
I was virtually giddy with anticipation on the day that we were to pick them up. I was eager to hear about their week and see their adorable faces. However, I was uncomfortable when I arrived to Jean’s place.
The house had the same appearance as usual, but something didn’t feel quite right. Perhaps I was being foolish. Perhaps it was the manner in which Jean opened the door.
“Abby! You’re present.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she greeted me.
“Hello, Jean! How did they fare?” As I entered, I inquired.
“Oh, wonderful,” she said in a tremulous voice. However, there was something strange about her attitude. She seemed to be clinging to a script since she was too happy and calm.
I looked around the home, anticipating the normal cacophony of children shouting or toys clattering. However, there was silence in the home. Completely quiet.
“Where are the kids?” I looked around the empty living room and asked again. Normally, they would be rushing to me with stories of excitement and hugs by now.
The way Jean clutched her hands together was disconcerting, but her grin remained constant. She remarked casually, “Oh, they’re inside,” pointing to the house. “They’ve been so busy today—lots of work.”
I scowled. “Work? What sort of work?”
Jean waved her hand as if I were being stupid and laughed nervously. “Oh, only minor details. supporting their grandmother. Kids are always willing to help, you know that!”
She used the word “work,” but I didn’t understand; her tone was too polite, too contemptuous. My maternal instincts took over, and I became uncomfortable.
I said, “Where exactly are they, Jean?” in a firmer voice.
Her gaze flitted from me to the corridor and back again. Finally, “In the backyard,” she said. “I’ve been getting help from them in the garden.” “What tiny heroes they are!”
I didn’t wait for any more justifications. I went to the sliding glass door by following the faint sounds of talking. The chilly air greeted me as I went outdoors, but it didn’t stop the dread that washed over me.
“Lucas? Sophie?” I yelled.
Then I caught sight of them. My heart fell.
As they clutched to me, Lucas and Sophie stood there, their tiny faces covered with mud, their eyes full of relief and tiredness. Sophie’s shirt had a tear on the shoulder, and Lucas’s pants were old and stained. Neither of their outfits appeared to be what I had prepared for them.
“Mom!” With a gasp, Lucas threw his arms around me. Sophie trailed after, her small body quivering as she pressed her forehead against my side.
“What is going on here?” I turned to Jean and made a demand, my voice trembling with rage. “Why are they acting this way outside? Instead of working, they were meant to be enjoying themselves.”
Lucas’s voice wavered as he glanced up at me. “Grandma insisted that we assist. She promised to take us to the park if we put in a lot of effort. But, Mom, we never went.”
“Mommy, she made us dig all day,” Sophie continued. She insisted that we complete first, even though I wanted to stop.
Jean was now standing a few steps away with her arms crossed defensively when I turned to face her.
“Jean!” My voice broke as I yelled. “This week, you vowed to treat them rather than make them work as slaves!” “What is this?”
Jean shuffled uncomfortably on her feet as her cheeks reddened. With a dismissive tone, she added, “Oh, don’t exaggerate, Abby,” “They wanted to assist. Why not? Nobody ever suffered from a little hard work. They have gained important knowledge about accountability and self-control.”
“Accountability?” “Discipline?” I raised my voice, shaking with anger. “Jean, they’re kids! They shouldn’t be hurting their backs in your yard; they should be having fun, laughing, and being children. How did you think this was acceptable?”
Jean raised her hands and became defensive in her words. “They must realize that life isn’t always enjoyable! Abby, you are bringing them up to be pampered. I was only attempting to assist.”
I inhaled deeply as I attempted to calm the raging emotional storm inside of me. In front of the children, I couldn’t let my rage control me. But I required clarification.
My voice was low and steady as I continued, “Jean,” “where’s the $1,000 I gave you for groceries and activities?”
She paused, her eyes flitting to the floor. Her shrug seemed forced. “Oh, I didn’t need to use it for groceries,” she said. “All much food wasn’t necessary for the youngsters. Additionally, I believed that I could utilize the funds for other purposes.”
My stomach rumbled. “Anything else? What does that mean to you?”
“I… I didn’t use the money for the kids,” Jean said, her face flushed. “I’ve been having trouble paying my bills, so I figured I could save some cash if I got some help around the house and in the yard.”
I was silent for a moment. The betrayal was like a kick to the stomach. “So, you used my children as free labor?” With a quivering voice, I spoke.
Despite her recoil, she did not refute it. She argued, “It wasn’t like that, Abby,” in a defensive tone. “I thought it would be good for them—teach them hard work.”
“Hard work?” I said it again, raising my voice. “Jean, they’re children! I gave you that money so you could make memories and have fun with them for a week. Not this. Lucas and Sophie were sitting on the porch in the backyard, their little faces pale and exhausted, when I pointed to them.”
This was more than the garden, I realized then. Jean had always attempted to manipulate others and demonstrate her superiority, and now she had ensnared my children in her perverted morality.
I pulled Lucas and Sophie into my arms while kneeling in front of them. “I’m so sorry, babies,” I said in a crackly whisper. “This isn’t what I wanted for you.”
I turned back to Jean, whose head hung down in embarrassment, and stood up. “Jean,” I stated in a firm yet piercing voice, “we’re heading out.” My children should be allowed to be children, not garden laborers.
She hesitated, her lips quivering, “I… I thought I was doing the right thing.”
I gave a headshake. “Not at all, Jean. You didn’t.”
Without saying another word, I grabbed Sophie, grabbed Lucas’s hand, and escorted them inside to collect their belongings. We had left this place.
The cool evening air that touched my face as we stepped outdoors was a sharp contrast to the oppressive tension that pervaded Jean’s home.
Sophie curled up in my arms with her head on my shoulder while Lucas held on to my hand. Their small bodies were heavy with fatigue, and their silence was heavier than words.
Jean shouted out to us, “Please, Abby,” her voice breaking. “Remain calm. They’ve gained a lot of knowledge. Simply put, it was an error.”
I came to a halt and gently turned to look at her. Her face was a mixture of remorse and despair as she stood in the doorway. I thought about answering for a second, but what could I say that would make a difference? The damage was already done.
I finally answered, “No, Jean,” in a calm but firm voice. “This was not an error. This was a decision—a decision you took without considering their needs. They are kids, not resources to solve your issues or teachings to support your arguments.”
Jean started to respond, but I interrupted her by shaking my head. “I had faith in you. Additionally, you betrayed their trust as well as mine. I refuse to allow this to occur once more.”
Her expression crumpled as she looked down, but I couldn’t allow her to feel sorrow right then. I was required by my children.
Lucas finally broke the silence as I was making my way to the car. “Mom?”
The hesitancy in his words made my heart hurt as I glanced down at him. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
He said, “Are we ever coming back here?”
“No, buddy,” I murmured, clenching my palm around his. “Not until your grandmother learns how to treat you fairly.”
In my arms, Sophie moved and muttered, “Good.”
The house, the garden, and a piece of my trust that I would never regain were all gone when I strapped them into the car and drove off.
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