Money has a strange way of revealing people’s true colors. I learned this lesson the hard way when my husband, Miles, decided that paying my mother to babysit our two children was a waste of money.
“She should be grateful just to spend time with her grandkids,” he had scoffed one evening, completely dismissing the fact that she was giving up her career to help us.
But when he fired her to “save money,” I decided it was time he learned a lesson in value—the hard way.
One evening, as we were cleaning up after dinner, Miles suddenly said, “We need another baby.” His eyes gleamed with excitement as he handed me a plate to dry.
I stopped mid-wipe. “What?”
“Just imagine Evie with a little sister or brother. Don’t you want that for her?”
I carefully set the plate down. “I’m happy with just Evie. She’s perfect as she is.”
“Come on, Jenny.” He dried his hands and wrapped his arms around me from behind. “I always dreamed of having a big family. Remember how lonely I was as an only child?”
I sighed, already seeing where this was headed.
“I promise I’ll help more. You won’t have to do it alone.”
I turned in his arms and gave him a knowing look. “You say that now, but—”
“I mean it. Every diaper change, every late-night feeding… I’ll be there. Trust me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Like you were there last night when Evie had a fever?”
His face fell. “That was different. I had the quarterly report due.”
“There’s always something, Miles.”
He tightened his hold on me. “This time will be different. Whatever happens, we’re in this together. I want us to give Evie the gift of a sibling. Please?”
I should have known better than to believe him.
Nine months later, Amber arrived—pink-cheeked, wailing through the nights, and completely dependent on me.
And Miles? His promises evaporated like morning dew under the sun.
“I have an early meeting,” he’d mumble, rolling over as Amber wailed at 3 a.m.
“The presentation’s tomorrow… I really need to focus,” he’d say while I juggled a fussy baby and a toddler demanding attention.
“Mommy, up!” Evie would plead, arms raised, as I struggled to breastfeed Amber and prepare dinner at the same time.
“Just a minute, sweetie,” I would say, my heart breaking as I saw the disappointment in her face.
It was my mother, Wendy, who saved me.
She saw the exhaustion written all over me and, one day, after finishing a long nursing shift, she offered a solution.
“Jennifer, honey, let me help,” she said, watching me try to soothe Amber while Evie clung to my leg. “I could take early retirement and watch the girls while you two work.”
“Mom, I can’t ask you to quit your nursing job. You love it.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” She scooped Evie up, and my daughter immediately snuggled into her arms. “Besides, what’s more important than family? And frankly, honey, you look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”
“We’d have to pay you,” I insisted. “It’s only fair.”
“Three thousand a month would work,” she said. “Less than daycare, and I’ll cook and clean too.”
I brought it up to Miles that night, expecting gratitude. Instead, his reaction was immediate.
“Three thousand? Just to watch her own grandkids?”
“She’s giving up her career for us, Miles.”
“It’s called retirement. People do it all the time, Jenny.”
From that moment on, his resentment simmered.
“Must be nice getting paid to play with your grandkids all day,” he muttered when Mom wasn’t looking.
“The house could be cleaner for what we’re paying,” he grumbled, despite Mom keeping everything spotless.
Then, one day, I overheard a conversation I was never meant to hear.
“It’s ridiculous,” Miles muttered on the phone. “Three grand a month for what? She should be grateful we’re letting her spend time with her grandkids.”
I froze. My blood turned to ice.
Then I heard him talking to Mom.
“We appreciate everything you’ve done, Wendy,” he said, his tone formal and cold. “But we’ve decided it’s best for you to, uh, move on.”
“Move on?” Mom’s voice wavered.
“Frankly, it’s not fair to keep paying you when daycare is a more… cost-effective solution.”
Mom fell silent. Then, softly, she said, “If that’s what you both want.”
“It is,” Miles replied quickly.
The next few weeks were a disaster.
Daycare cost more than what we’d paid Mom, and the kids were constantly sick. No more home-cooked meals, no more flexible pick-up times, no more grandma’s love woven into every moment of their day.
“Another ear infection?” Miles groaned. “That’s the third one this month!”
“That’s what happens when they’re around so many other kids,” I replied, rocking Amber as she cried.
Then came the late fees.
“Seventy-five dollars?!” he exploded, holding up a daycare invoice. “This is highway robbery!”
I saw Mom at the grocery store one day, looking happier than ever. “The Andersons are wonderful,” she said. “They actually thanked me for making dinner. And they’re paying me $4,300 a month now.”
That night, I casually suggested to Miles, “Maybe we should call Mom?”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Tell her she can come back. Same pay.”
I smiled sweetly. “She’s making $4,300 now. And they appreciate her.”
His face turned red. “That’s ridiculous! She doesn’t need that much money!”
“Well, I have a business trip next week,” I announced. “Five days. You’ve got the time off to watch the kids. Should be easy, right?”
By day two, his messages were frantic:
“How do you get Amber to eat her vegetables?”
“Evie won’t stop crying about her pink cup.”
“Please call me back. I haven’t slept.”
“How does your mom do this all day?!”
By the time I returned, the house was a disaster, and Miles looked like a shell of a man.
“Your mother,” he croaked, “is a saint.”
“Oh?”
“I was wrong. So wrong. I’ll apologize. Whatever she wants to be paid, it’s worth it.”
Mom agreed to meet us for coffee. Miles, humbled and ashamed, said, “Wendy, I was wrong. The way I treated you… there’s no excuse.”
She stirred her coffee. “No, there isn’t.”
“But if you’d consider coming back… we’ll match what they’re paying. And I swear, things will be different.”
Mom paused. “Different how?”
“I’ll treat you like the professional you are.”
After a long moment, she said, “I’ll need that in writing. Including sick days and vacation time.”
“Absolutely.”
As they worked out the details, I smiled. Sometimes, the best way to teach value isn’t to tell someone—it’s to show them.
