A poor mother of quintuplets gets a pleasant surprise when she runs out of money at the grocery store and a stranger steps in to help her.
Rachel and her husband Jack were overjoyed when they found out they were expecting quintuplets. They had been trying for a child for years, and when they were blessed with five children at once, they couldn’t control their joy.
Jack was a truck driver who made a solid living, so when the babies were born, it was easy for Rachel to quit her job to care for their children. Things went on swiftly for four years; Rachel and Jack never expected anything to go wrong. But something did, and Rachel was at a loss.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
One day, Jack left for work early in the morning and never returned. It was their wedding anniversary, and Rachel had tried to stop him since she had a nagging feeling something wasn’t quite right. But Jack had managed to talk her around. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be home on time. I promise.”
But Jack didn’t keep his promise. Later that evening, Rachel got a call from the cops informing her that he had passed away in a truck collision. The young widow sobbed incessantly, but nothing would change. Jack was gone, and she’d have to embrace the role of the man of the house.
Because her kids were just four years old, she couldn’t leave them alone at home. Hiring a nanny was out of the question because savings were limited, and there was no income. She couldn’t even ask her neighbors for help because they were anything but friendly.
Distraught by the situation, Rachel couldn’t even get to grieve the loss of her husband properly as she threw herself into work to support her children. She began knitting scarves and hats and selling them for a living, but problems arose when summer arrived. Her talent could no longer help her, and money was tight.
One day, she was at a grocery store buying items for her sons’ birthday, but the prices there made her brow furrow. “When did the price of cocoa powder go up? $5 for a small one?! Ughh, I haven’t bought half of the items yet, and the total is already $50! Jesus! I need to put some items back.”
She returned the cocoa powder on the shelf and got a package of generic cocoa biscuits instead as a substitute for cake flavoring. She proceeded to the next aisle just as one of her sons, Max, started insisting on buying him some candies. “Mommy! Can you please get me candies? Please?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“Oh, honey!” Rachel paused. “Candies are not good for you. Doctors say that candies make your teeth bad. They’re also a little expensive, and mommy needs to bake a cake for your birthday, so she’ll have to buy the ingredients for them.”
But the four-year-old boy wouldn’t understand that. He began crying loudly, which attracted some of the shoppers’ attention. “No, mommy! I want it! I WANT CANDY!”
“Yes, mommy! We want candies too! PLEASE!!!” cried the other four boys in unison.
Rachel almost panicked in the store when everyone started staring at her, and she had to give in to her children in the end. However, when she approached the cashier to pay the bill, yet another trouble awaited her.
“How hard is it to check the prices before buying something?” the cashier, Lincy, grumbled. “You’re $10 short, so I’ll have to take some things out of here.” She picked up the chocolate cookies, candy bars, and a few other items and began preparing the bill, but Rachel stopped her.
“Oh, please don’t remove those items. Umm… let’s do one thing. I’ll remove the bread and….” Rachel began picking and choosing the items to remove.
Help can sometimes come from unexpected places.
Meanwhile, Max walked away to the aisle where milk cartons were placed, but Rachel was too busy to notice that. He was walking around when he came across an older woman. “Hi there, young man! I’m Mrs. Simpson. What’s your name? And what are you doing here alone?” she asked gently, smiling at him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Hello, Mrs. Simpson. I’m Max, and I’m four years old. How old are you?”
The older woman blushed. “I’m just a little older than you, Max. Let’s say 70? Where is your mother?”
“Mommy is fighting with someone. She says mommy doesn’t have enough money, and we need to leave some things here.”
“Oh, is that so?” Mrs. Simpson inquired worriedly. “Can you take me to your mommy?”
The boy nodded and dashed over to the check-out counter with Mrs. Simpson. Lincy had grown impatient with Rachel and was lashing out at her. “Look, woman! If you can’t afford stuff, don’t come here in the first place! Now move! Other customers are awaiting their turn!” She pushed Rachel’s bag at the side and motioned for the next customer to approach her. “Next!”
“No, please wait…” Rachel had just started speaking when a voice cut her off.
“There’s no need to remove those items. Your bill is already covered!” Mrs. Simpson approached Lincy and handed her her credit card. “Ring in all the items including the ones you removed. It’s on me.”
“Oh no, please,” Rachel intervened. “I’m afraid I can’t take that from you. It’s fine.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” the older woman insisted, and Rachel finally gave in.
As they cleared their bills and walked out of the store, Rachel couldn’t stop thanking her. “Thank you so much for helping us. I’m sorry I can’t pay you the money right now, but please visit us sometime. Here, this is my address,” she said, handing her a note on which she scribbled her address. “I’d love to treat you to some tea and cookies. I make really good cookies.”
“Oh, that’s really sweet of you, young lady!” she replied. “I’ll see you soon, Max! Bye-bye, boys!” she added before departing.
The boys waved back at her, and Rachel was perplexed when Mrs. Simpson mentioned Max’s name in specific. “Do you know Mrs. Simpson, honey?” she asked Max gently.
“Yes, mommy! I told her you were fighting, so she helped you.”
“Oh, she’s such a sweetheart!” Rachel thought as she walked back to her car.
The next day, there was a knock on her door. “Oh, Mrs. Simpson! Please come in. You came at the right time! I just baked some cookies,” Rachel said, showing her the way inside.
As the older woman took a seat, Rachel brought her some cookies and a cup of tea. “Oh, you didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” she replied, reaching for the teacup. “Do you live alone with your children?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Actually, my husband died last year, so I’ve been raising my children on my own. Unfortunately, I’m not working now, so the money is tight. I had a small business selling knitted sweaters and caps, but no one buys them in the summer, and I am still looking for a job.”
“In that case, why don’t you join me at my clothing store?” the older woman proposed. “I need an assistant and would love to have you. Don’t worry; I can look after your children for you. My husband died many years ago, and we never had children. So I’m just an old lady counting down the days until God brings her home.”
“Oh my goodness, Mrs. Simpson!” Rachel cried. “How will I repay your kindness? Thank you! Thank you very much!”
“You can return my favor, darling,” Mrs. Simpson smiled. “All you have to do is make me a nice cup of tea every evening. Deal?”
“Of course, Mrs. Simpson!” Rachel said as she wiped away her tears. She started working at Mrs. Simpson’s store the next day, worked hard for months in a row, and got promoted to the role of supervisor.
When she showed Mrs. Simpson her design samples one day, the older woman recommended she start a side business and encouraged her to share some of her works on social media.
You won’t believe it, but Rachel’s designs went viral all over social media, and a famous designer soon offered her a job. But Rachel turned down the offer because she didn’t want to leave her job at Mrs. Simpson’s store. She now lives with Mrs. Simpson, and her children call the older woman Grandma Simpson out of affection.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
What can we learn from this story?
- Help can sometimes come from unexpected places. When Rachel ran out of money, Mrs. Simpson stepped in to help her.
- Goodness is like a boomerang; it always comes back to you in some form. Mrs. Simpson was all alone after her husband’s death, but after helping Rachel, she gained a loving family and five adorable grandsons.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about an older woman who can’t recognize her children but ends up recognizing the sweetheart she lost 56 years ago on Valentine’s Day.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
My Husband Called Me Lazy for Wanting to Quit My Job While 7 Months Pregnant – So I Taught Him a Lesson He’ll Never Forget
I thought my first pregnancy would be smooth mainly due to the support I expected from my husband. But when I needed his understanding about the struggles of being pregnant, he mansplained it to me, forcing me to teach him a valuable lesson!
I’m 30, seven months pregnant with my first child, and exhausted. Not just “I didn’t sleep well” tired. I mean can-barely-walk, lower-back-throbbing, sciatica-shooting-down-my-leg kind of exhausted. But my suffering meant nothing to my clueless husband.
A happy man | Source: Midjourney
You see, I was so tired. The kind where my body feels like a clunky shopping cart with one bad wheel, and the baby inside me has apparently mistaken my bladder for a kickboxing bag! Doug, my husband of four years, is 33. Works in tech. I work in HR.
We both pull long hours and up until this pregnancy, I thought we had a solid partnership. We’d always split chores, tag-team dinners, and supported each other’s goals.
But pregnancy changes things—physically, mentally, and emotionally. And for some reason, it also changed Doug.
A drained pregnant woman | Source: Midjourney
Lately, every little thing I do feels like dragging a ten-pound weight behind me. I’m swelling and cramping to the point that my OB told me I should consider either working from home full-time or starting maternity leave early.
I took a few days to think about it, then decided to talk to my husband.
So one evening, during dinner—meatballs, roasted potatoes, and spaghetti I cooked—I told him we needed to talk.
A dinner plate | Source: Midjourney
“Babe,” I started, trying to keep my voice calm, “I’ve been thinking about maybe leaving work early to rest. Temporarily. My body’s just not handling this well, and the doctor—”
He didn’t even let me finish.
He scoffed, like, actually made a sound! Then he smirked and said, “You’re being dramatic. My mom worked until the day she gave birth to me.”
I blinked.
A surprised pregnant woman | Source: Midjourney
He went on, “You’re just being lazy. Admit it, you don’t want to work anymore. This isn’t the 1800s. Women juggle jobs and pregnancies all the time. You’re using it as an excuse!”
Then the kicker: “Don’t expect me to pick up the slack financially just because you feel tired!”
I sat there in silence, my fork halfway to my mouth, spaghetti cooling on the utensil and the plate!
I wanted to scream! I wanted to argue my case, but instead, I forced a smile and said, “You’re right. I’ll push through.”
And just like that, a plan was born!
A pregnant woman mid-eating | Source: Midjourney
I was going to show this man exactly what “lazy” looks like, and what real work actually feels like!
I didn’t quit my job.
Nope!
Instead, I went to work every day for the next week while also waking up early to do everything around the house.
The next morning, I got up at 6 a.m. while he was still snoring. Cleaned the kitchen, prepped his lunch, scrubbed the bathroom floor on hands and knees (hello Braxton Hicks), and left for work like nothing had changed.
For the next six days, I became Superwoman!
A pregnant woman cleaning | Source: Midjourney
I’d wake up early and do every chore in the house—laundry, floors, dishes, garbage, organizing the pantry, dusting fan blades, and even alphabetizing our spice rack.
I went all out! I hand-washed his sweaty gym clothes and hung them in color order. I made fresh dinners nightly: grilled chicken piccata, lemon-garlic pasta, and even a homemade lasagna that nearly made me pass out from standing so long!
An enticing dinner plate | Source: Midjourney
Doug noticed, of course.
“Wow, you’ve got energy lately,” he said one night, chewing happily. “Told you it was all in your head!”
I smiled sweetly. “Just trying to be the strong woman you believe I am.”
He nodded proudly. “That’s the spirit!”
I almost choked on my salad.
But I wasn’t just exhausting myself for petty satisfaction. I was planning something bigger, something unforgettable.
I did something else my husband didn’t know about. I booked him a well-deserved “surprise!”
A pregnant woman thinking of a plan | Source: Midjourney
See, my OB had referred me to a doula and postpartum coach named Shannon. She’s this no-nonsense powerhouse of a woman who also runs intensive parenting workshops for soon-to-be dads. I asked if she’d be willing to help me out with a little… lesson.
Shannon grinned and said, “I live for this.”
Then I texted my college friend Maddie, whose twin boys were now three months old and in peak screech mode.
“I need a favor,” I told her. “One day. Total chaos. You in?”
My notoriously mischievous friend laughed. “Girl, I’ve been waiting for this moment!”
A woman laughing while sitting her twins | Source: Midjourney
I coordinated everything for the upcoming Friday. I figured at that point, my husband wouldn’t suspect anything as he’d relaxed into the idea that I would do everything around the house and still work.
That day, I told him I had a prenatal appointment and needed him to stay and work from home because “the water company and pest control are coming.” Of course, this wasn’t true.
I threw in, “They gave us a window between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m., so please don’t schedule calls.”
He rolled his eyes but said okay. “Guess I’ll babysit the dishwasher.”
He had no idea what was coming!
An unimpressed man | Source: Midjourney
Friday morning, I kissed him goodbye, handed him a carefully typed “to-do list” on floral stationery—”Be nice to the workers!”—and left the house.
At 9:15 a.m., Shannon rang the doorbell. Doug later confessed that he answered the door in pajama pants, holding coffee, thinking she was with the water company.
“Hi!” she said cheerily. “I’m here for your fatherhood simulation day!”
Doug blinked. “Wait, for what?”
Then, 75 minutes later, Maddie arrived, juggling diaper bags, bottles, and two babies already crying like fire alarms.
At this point, Doug texted me in a panic!
A panicked man texting | Source: Midjourney
Doug: “WHAT IS HAPPENING? There’s a woman here talking about diapers and sleep regression while making me swaddle a fake baby! There are also TWO REAL babies SCREAMING in the living room?!”
Me: “They made it! It’s your real-life dad simulation day! You’ve got this, champ 💪”
No response. For seven hours.
At 6 p.m., I walked into an apocalypse!
A pregnant woman arriving home | Source: Midjourney
One baby was wailing. Doug sat on the couch with a burp cloth over his shoulder and a haunted expression on his face. Shannon sat cross-legged on the rug, sipping chamomile tea like she was meditating through the chaos.
The smell hit me first—diapers and despair.
Doug stood up like Frankenstein’s monster. He looked like he hadn’t slept for three days! “They both pooped. Twice in a matter of hours. One projectile vomited on me! I didn’t eat! They took turns screaming! I think one of them is teething!”
A shocked man talking | Source: Midjourney
I blinked. “Weird. You said women can handle pregnancy and careers. You’ve had eight hours. No pregnancy. Plus help.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Then just slumped back down on the couch like someone had unplugged him. He didn’t say anything but stared at a wall hauntingly.
But I wasn’t done.
Later that night, after Maddie left (with a mischievous wink and a “Call me if you need round two”), I handed Doug a wrapped box. Inside was a small scrapbook I’d titled “Things You Didn’t See.”
A wrapped box | Source: Midjourney
He looked confused but opened it slowly.
Inside were screenshots of texts I’d sent his mom over the last few months, asking for her advice, trying to keep her in the loop. There were photos of my swollen feet next to a vacuum cleaner, receipts from grocery runs, and notes I’d left for him wishing him luck on big meetings, little things he never noticed.
At the end was a sticky note:
“You think I’m lazy? You think I’m weak? I hope today showed you just how wrong you are.”
He stared at it for a long time.
An emotional man staring at a scrapbook | Source: Midjourney
Then he looked up at me, eyes red.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t get it. Not until today,” he said, apologizing profusely.
And for the first time in weeks, I felt like he really saw me.
I nodded. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
But this chapter wasn’t done yet.
Here’s where things get really wild!
A happy pregnant woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, he woke up early and made me pancakes. Real ones, fluffy, golden, with strawberries and whipped cream! Then he made a call I didn’t expect.
He called his mom.
“Hey,” he said. “I just wanted to say sorry. I used the story that you worked until the day I was born against Cindy, but… I shouldn’t have done that. I guess I used it as the standard for everyone, forgetting we are different.”
A man on a call | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t imagine what you went through working full-time while carrying me to term. I’ve seen what Cindy’s suffered through, so I am sorry you had to go through that, Mom.”
His mom paused, then said something I didn’t expect (he’d put her on loudspeaker for me to hear his apology and her response).
“Oh honey, that’s not true! I stopped working four months in! Your dad and I decided that I needed to rest. I just never told you because I didn’t want you to think I was less strong for thinking I’d stayed at home.”
A happy woman on a call | Source: Midjourney
Doug blinked.
“Wait, WHAT?”
I took a long sip of my tea and smiled. “Looks like you believed the wrong version of strength.”
He’s been different since then. More attentive. More understanding. He never uses the word “lazy” anymore!
And last night, as I waddled to bed, he kissed my forehead and whispered, “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
I didn’t say anything.
But I smiled.
Because sometimes, the best way to teach someone what strength looks like… is to let them live in your shoes—poop, puke, and all!
A happy pregnant woman | Source: Midjourney
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