When my daughter-in-law welcomed twins into the world last year, I was overjoyed. Becoming a grandmother had always been a dream of mine. I pictured spoiling the little ones with love, hearing their giggles, and savoring weekends filled with family.
But I didn’t picture this: sleepless nights spent rocking babies, endless diaper duty, and being treated as “the free babysitter” several times a week.
At first, I didn’t mind. I knew my son and daughter-in-law had their hands full, so I went over a few times a week to babysit and help around the house. It was tiring, but I did it out of love.
Soon, though, it felt less like visiting my grandchildren and more like running a daycare. No one asked if I was available. I’d walk in, and my daughter-in-law would say, “Here’s one baby, and the other is on the changing table. Can you take care of that?”
But I’m not a nanny. I’ve already raised my children, and I never imagined taking on this role in my 60s.
Every time I tried to set a boundary, she would respond, “You’re their grandma. This is what grandmas do.”
But is that really what being a grandma means? To me, it’s about love, joy, and support — not being expected to drop everything, clean up messes, and serve as unpaid childcare. When I tried bringing this up with my son, he was always “too busy.”
One night, I finally told my daughter-in-law I wasn’t comfortable handling bedtime and diaper duty every evening. She bristled and asked, “So you don’t want to help?”
I do want to help. But I also want to enjoy my retirement, to have a life outside of babysitting. I wanted respect, not to feel like a servant.
