I Hope My Unemployed 64-Year-Old Mother Will Look After My Child, but She Insists on Being Paid

In an engaging Reddit discussion, a young mother’s predicament has drawn significant attention and sparked a debate about the dynamics of family support, generational differences, and the financial realities of modern parenting.

This situation centers around a 29-year-old woman who, upon preparing to return to work after giving birth, approached her 64-year-old mother to babysit her newborn. However, the seemingly straightforward request took a complicated turn when her mother insisted on being compensated for her services.

The woman, having recently become a mother, faced the challenging task of balancing her career with the demands of a new baby. She expressed her situation succinctly on Reddit: “A female Redditor opened up about a dilemma she was facing with her mother.

The woman explained that she had just given birth to her child and needed help caring for her newborn as she was returning to work.”

Believing her retired mother to be the ideal candidate for babysitting due to her extensive experience and trustworthiness, she was surprised by her mother’s response. The older woman, who had been a homemaker since 1992, voiced her reluctance to commit to a full-time caregiving role.

She explained her viewpoint: “The grandmother reasoned that she was too old and had already raised her children. She also told her daughter that she should have considered staying home if she wanted to have a baby.”

The financial pressure on the young mother was palpable. She outlined her financial struggles in the post, revealing, “I make $55k/yr, but have $39k in student loans + $20k in other debt (credit card, car loan, medical debt on credit).

My partner makes about $36k/yr and has $5k in credit card debt.” This detailed breakdown illustrated the economic constraints that made it necessary for her to continue working despite her new motherhood.

Despite the young mother’s clear need, her mother’s terms for helping were steep. She requested $20 per hour, additional costs for late pickups, and insisted on having a car seat and stroller since she refused to babysit at her daughter’s apartment. The young mother found these terms financially and logistically untenable, leading her to consider alternative childcare options that might prove more cost-effective.

Her decision to possibly opt for a daycare was further explained by her: “Therefore, every cent counted for the new mother. However, the grandmother did not agree to babysit her child without any compensation.

She asked to be paid $20/hr, including late fees should the parents pick up the child late, a car seat, and a stroller, and to be compensated for driving the child back to her daughter’s house because babysitting from their apartment was not an option.”

The response from the Reddit community was mixed, with many criticizing the daughter for appearing entitled. One user pointed out, “She does not do anything besides watch TV and cook meals,” underscoring the sentiment that the grandmother, now retired, should not be expected to take on such an active role without compensation.

Others emphasized that child care is a demanding job, and the older woman was justified in her request for payment.

This narrative highlighted the shifting expectations between generations and the severe economic pressures facing young families today. It has stirred a broader conversation about the nature of familial support and the financial sacrifices involved in parenting under modern economic conditions.

My Stepmom Covertly Called Off My Prom Hair Appointment to Spoil My Evening – Yet She Was Stunned When a Limousine Arrived for Me

Yeah, that woman cannot stand me.

It all started 7 years ago, after my mom passed away from a cold that just wouldn’t go away. Before I knew it, my dad was seeing Carla, and a year later, he married her.

“Your father doesn’t waste any time, does he?” my aunt sniffed on the day of the wedding. “And who is Carla anyway? She’s nothing compared to your mom!”

Carla was fine at first. I mean, she tried hard to get me on her side. But slowly, the passive-aggressive jabs started piling up. I remember once, I caught her staring at me.

“You look too much like your mother, Emily,” she said. “It actually pains me to look at you. No wonder your father gives Mason more attention. He’s closer to Mason right now, isn’t he?”

I sighed and ignored her, trying not to let her words get to me.

My dad, of course, didn’t notice a thing. It was like he couldn’t—or just wouldn’t—see how Carla treated me. And she loved that. She loved being the only one ready to taunt me.

Anyway, fast forward to prom season. Like every other girl in my class, I was dreaming of the perfect night. I saved up enough babysitting money for months to buy a gorgeous violet dress.

I couldn’t help but wish that my mother was around to spend these moments with me.

But that’s why I chose the violet dress. It was her favorite color.

Prom was going to be my night. I just knew it.

Whenever I thought about it, I just felt like something magical was going to happen at prom. To make myself feel even better, I booked a hair appointment at a fancy salon. All my friends were going there too.

Everything was set.

But then the big day came, and Carla made sure to ruin it.

I went to the salon, all excited, but when I got there, the receptionist looked at me, confused.

“Emily? Are you sure?” she asked, looking at her computer screen. “Zelda told me that you canceled?”

“I didn’t!” I exclaimed. “Why would I? Prom is this evening!”

“Calm down, honey,” the receptionist said. “I’ll get Zelda.”

I waited impatiently while she went to get the hairdresser. Finally, they returned.

The hairdresser looked uncomfortable.

“I got a call earlier today saying that you wanted to cancel your appointment, Emily. I assumed that it was your Mom?”

My heart dropped. Canceled? How? I didn’t cancel it! What mom?

I was still processing everything when I looked over and saw her.

Carla.

Sitting there, getting her hair done. Of course.

She saw me and just smirked, her eyes cold as steel. Carla had canceled my appointment.

“Is there any way that you could still schedule me in?” I asked Zelda.

She shook her head sadly.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “When your appointment was canceled, a woman called in and booked her own. All of our slots are taken. I’m sorry, honey.”

I stood there in shock. So, Carla had called pretending to be me? Pretending to be my mom? And then she took my appointment so that she could watch me be disappointed?

Sick.

I barely managed to keep it together as I ran out of the salon, my head spinning. I felt nauseous.

My perfect prom? It was just falling apart around me. By the time I got home, I locked myself in my room, tears pouring down my face.

I sat at my dressing table trying to fix my hair on my own, but nothing looked good. I felt stupid for telling Carla my plans in passing.

See what had happened?

I looked at my dress, hanging off a hanger.

I wasn’t even sure that I wanted to go to prom anymore.

I sat there, looking at my makeup sitting on my dressing table and wondered if it was even worth it. I mean, what was the point? I was already upset and didn’t feel like anything good was going to come from this.

Suddenly, I heard this loud honking outside. I ignored it at first, thinking it was just a random car.

A teenage girl’s dressing table | Source: Midjourney
A teenage girl’s dressing table | Source: Midjourney

But it didn’t stop.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and dragged myself to the window, fully expecting to see commotion on the road. But when I looked out, my jaw dropped.

A glossy black limousine was parked in front of our house.

I thought it was some sort of mistake. There was no way that the car was for me. My friends’ parents had said no when we first talked about it months ago. But still, I ran downstairs.

I stood at the doorway, waiting for something to happen. The driver stepped out and walked up to our front door. My dad, who had been as clueless as ever during all of this, stood on our porch, looking as confused as I felt.

“I’m here for Miss Emily, sir,” the driver said, holding out a small card.

Miss Emily? Me?

“She’s right here,” my dad said, nodding to me.

I hesitantly took the card from my dad’s hand and opened it. Inside, written in neat handwriting, were the words:

To my beautiful sister, Emily. I know you’ve had a rough time lately, but you deserve the best night ever! Enjoy the limo, and don’t worry about a thing. I’ve been saving all my birthday and Christmas money.

Have a magical night, sis.

Love, Mason.

Mason? My 11-year-old brother did this?

I burst into tears all over again, but this time from pure shock and gratitude. I ran upstairs to find Mason in his room, grinning like he’d just pulled off the ultimate prank.

“I heard Mom on the phone this morning,” he said, shrugging like this wasn’t a big deal. “I knew that it wasn’t fair at all.”

Turns out that he had overheard Carla canceling my hair appointment, and in true little brother fashion, took matters into his own hands.

“But did you really use your money?” I asked him, feeling horrible.

“Not really,” he grinned. “See, Mom has been saving up money to buy some fancy diamond necklace. She’s been showing Dad the necklace, hoping that he would get it for her. But he said no.”

Good for you, Dad, I thought.

“Anyway, after I heard her phone call, she left home. So, I took some of the money from her stash, and went to Mr. Johnson next door. He owns the limo company, remember?”

But Mason didn’t stop there.

“There’s more, Em,” he said. “Mrs. Evans, from across the road? Her daughter is a stylist at the mall. She’s coming here to do your hair and makeup soon.”

Just as the words left his mouth, the doorbell rang.

“That should be her!” Mason said. “Go wash your face, I’ll send her up.”

When did Mason grow up? I wondered as I did what he said.

Twenty minutes later, I went from crying in my bedroom to looking like a princess. I just wished my mom was around to fuss over me. To take endless photos and tell me how proud she was of me. I wanted a hug from her more than anything.

But still, Mason had saved prom!

When Carla drove into our driveway, I was already outside, stepping into the limo like a movie star. Her jaw dropped. And she got out of the car and just stood there, stunned.

Her face? Oh my God. I wish I had a picture of her expression. I would have stuck it on my mirror!

“Richard? Did you do this?” I heard her shriek to my father before the driver closed the door.

Moments later, the driver whisked me away.

Prom was everything I had hoped for. When I arrived at the hall in the limo, heads turned. I was glowing, and I knew it. For the first time in a long time, I felt like my mom was right there with me.

The whole night was pure magic. Dancing, laughing with my friends, and just forgetting all the drama at home.

As for Carla, I hope she learned a lesson. You can’t mess with someone’s joy and get away with it… especially if your son is going to come in and save the day!

What would you have done?

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