Every grandmother loves spending quality time with their grandkids during the holidays. But when my six-year-old granddaughter started calling me names, I put a plan in motion that helped me discover that not everyone in your life will appreciate you.
Every holiday, I look forward to having Brittany, my six-year-old granddaughter, stay with me for the winter break. I was excited about our usual traditions: baking cookies, watching movies, and spoiling her with gifts. But last year changed everything.
Chocolate chip cookies baking on a pan on the stove counter at Christmas | Source: Midjourney
The week before her arrival, I transformed my house into a winter wonderland. Also, my kitchen counters disappeared under bags of flour, sugar, and chocolate chips for her favorite Christmas cookies. I really went all out to make it special for her.
Anyway, when I pulled up to my son, Todd, and his wife Rachel’s house to pick her up, Brittany burst through the front door with her PAW Patrol backpack bouncing behind her. Her pink winter coat was only half-zipped, and one of her boots was untied.
Little blonde girl running through the front yard holding a Paw Patrol backpack | Source: Midjourney
“Nanny!” she squealed, launching herself into my arms. Her hair smelled like strawberry shampoo, and she squeezed my neck so tight I could barely breathe. “Did you get the special hot chocolate? The one with the little marshmallows?”
“Of course, I did, sweetheart. And maybe some other surprises too.” I winked at her while fixing her coat and boot.
Rachel appeared in the doorway, phone in hand. “Her pajamas are in the front pocket,” she said without looking up. “And try not to give her too much sugar this time. Last visit, she was bouncing off the walls for days after.”
I gave Rachel a reassuring smile and ushered Brittany to my car.
Elegant woman in her 60s smiling in her front yard | Source: Midjourney
That first night, Brittany refused to sleep in the guest room. “Please, Nanny? I want to see the Christmas tree lights!” She looked up at me with those big brown eyes, clutching her favorite stuffed dog. “Chase wants to see them too!”
I wasn’t sure about a child sleeping in the living room, but I figured one time wouldn’t hurt. So, I helped her make a nest of blankets on the couch, right where she could see the tree.
While I cooked dinner, she sprawled out with her coloring books, humming along to the Christmas music playing softly in the background.
Little blonde girl coloring on a kitchen island | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, old lady,” she called out suddenly, giggling. “Can I have some juice?”
I nearly dropped the spatula. “What did you say, honey?”
“Old lady!” she repeated, giggling harder. “Can I have apple juice?”
I gave her the juice and brushed off her words… at first. I knew kids picked up all sorts of things at school.
But over the next few days, things got worse. The playful “old lady” turned into “wrinkly hag” and other names that made my stomach twist.
Elegant woman in her 60s looking worried in her living room | Source: Midjourney
These weren’t things children should say, but Brittany never said them maliciously. I think she thought they were just nicknames, but I had to find out for sure.
One afternoon, while Brittany was coloring again, I pulled up a chair beside her. “Brit, honey, where did you learn to call me ‘old lady’ and ‘ha-hag’?” I stuttered. “Was it at kindergarten? Did you hear the other kids say them to others?”
Without missing a beat, she shook her head. “That’s what Mom and Dad say about you all the time when you call!”
A little blonde girl coloring with an elegant woman in her 60s sitting beside her looking worried | Source: Midjourney
My heart stopped.
Todd and Rachel? My own son and daughter-in-law were speaking about me like this? To their six-year-old? That wasn’t fair, especially after everything I’d done for them over the years.
My late husband and I had helped them buy their home, and I’d later chipped in with their mortgage payments. Also, I’d often rearranged my schedule to watch Brittany when their babysitter canceled.
I’d even paid for their family vacation to Disney World last summer. My eyes watered, remembering Rachel’s tight smile when I handed her the check. “You really don’t have to do this,” she’d said, but she took it anyway.
Woman in her 30s with a tight face holding a check in her living room | Source: Midjourney
Had she been resenting my help all along?
That night, I came up with a plan, but I knew I had to wait until my granddaughter’s vacation was over
The next day, I gently explained to Brittany that calling me those names wasn’t nice, and to her credit, she stopped. We spent the rest of her winter break enjoying our usual activities.
We baked enough cookies to feed an army, watched every Christmas movie in my collection twice, and stayed up until 10 p.m. on New Year’s Eve drinking hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.
A woman in her 60s sitting on a couch with her little granddaughter watching movies | Source: Midjourney
A few days after New Year’s, it was time to take Brittany back to Todd’s. While she was in the bathroom, I hesitated, then slipped a small voice recorder into her PAW Patrol backpack.
When I dropped her off, Rachel barely looked up from her phone. That was fine with me; I wasn’t sure I could hide my feelings.
I focused on my girl instead, hugging her extra tightly. “Love you, sweetheart,” I whispered.
“Love you too, Nanny,” she replied, skipping inside with her backpack.
Blonde little girl running to the front door of a house | Source: Midjourney
I went home and waited. I knew the recorder wouldn’t last more than a day, but I didn’t want to seem overeager. I waited almost two weeks before I finally called Rachel.
My hands shook as I dialed. “I was thinking Brittany might like to spend the weekend,” I said, keeping my voice light. “It’s been so quiet without her.”
“Oh, sure,” Rachel replied with a sigh. “That would be… helpful. We were thinking of having some people over anyway.”
Woman in her 30s holding a phone and looking inconvenienced | Source: Midjourney
That Friday, when Brittany arrived, I waited until she was engrossed in her new PAW Patrol episode before retrieving the recorder from her backpack. My fingers trembled as I plugged it into my computer.
At first, there was mostly crackling or incomprehensible noise. But then Rachel’s voice came through loud and clear, and soon, Todd joined the conversation.
They talked about nothing important for what felt like an eternity. And then, I heard it.
“She’s so exhausting,” Rachel said. “Always calling, always trying to help. Like we can’t raise our own child? Did you see how many toys she bought this time? She’s trying to buy Brittany’s love.”
Woman in her 60s walking through the mall holding bags of toys | Source: Midjourney
“I know, but she’s my mom,” Todd said weakly. “She means well.”
“Well, I’m sick of it,” Rachel added. “I bet she has Easter already planned for us and this summer’s vacation. I thought telling Brittany to call her names would get her to back off, but I bet she’ll be calling to babysit soon.”
“I’m tired of her meddling too,” my son chimed in. “Maybe, we should start putting some boundaries. Let’s plan something for this summer for ourselves.”
A blonde man in his 30s looking worried while talking to a woman at the kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
That was more than enough. I slammed the laptop shut and breathed intently through my nose.
I had all the confirmation I needed. They had intentionally set up my granddaughter to call me names. They also thought I was too intrusive in their lives.
Fine. If they wanted boundaries, I’d give them boundaries. They wanted me to mind my own business? I’d do just that.
That Sunday, I invited them for dinner. I made Todd’s favorite lasagna and even bought Rachel’s preferred wine. Brittany ate too much and fell asleep on the couch afterward. I thought that was a good time to face my son and daughter-in-law.
Little blonde girl sleeping on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“I have something you need to hear,” I said, setting my laptop on the dining table and pressing play.
Their faces went pale as their own voices filled the room. Rachel’s wine glass froze halfway to her mouth.
“Mom, I can explain,” Todd stammered but wouldn’t meet my gaze.
I held up my hand. “No excuses,” I said. “I’ve spent years supporting you both, loving you, being there whenever you needed me. And this is what you do? Teach my granddaughter to disrespect me?”
Elegant woman in her 60s sitting on a kitchen table with one hand up looking serious and upset | Source: Midjourney
I pulled out a bag of new toys I’d bought for Brittany. “These are for her. Because no matter what you think of me, I will always love that little girl. But things need to change. If you don’t appreciate my help or generosity, then I’m done.”
Rachel sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Todd slumped in his chair, looking like the little boy who used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms.
A man and woman in their 30s looking surprised and sad sitting at the kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
“These are the boundaries you wanted: no more financial help and no more babysitting unless I want to,” I sighed, crossing my arms. They still couldn’t say a word, and honestly, I didn’t want to hear anything from them. “I think it’s time you take Brittany home. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.”
Slowly, they stood and left quietly, carrying their sleeping daughter and the bag of toys. I locked the door behind them and sank onto my couch, exhausted but somehow lighter.
Elegant woman in her 60s sitting on a couch looking relaxed but pensive | Source: Midjourney
A while later, I made myself a cup of tea and turned on my favorite show. The house felt too quiet without Brittany’s giggles and running footsteps.
Sometimes standing up for yourself hurts, but it’s better than letting people walk all over you. I just hoped that one day, my family would understand that my love didn’t mean they could take me for granted, or that they could teach my precious granddaughter to hurt me.
Elegant woman in her 60s sitting on a couch drinking tea looking relaxed but pensive | Source: Midjourney
Woman Got Involved in a “Best Mother” Competition but Quit After Reading Her Daughter’s Diary – Story of the Day
Martha made it her mission to ensure her daughter’s success: numerous classes, a violin teacher, and daily chores. Martha was certain that all of it would help Ellie find happiness. But after participating in a “Best Mother” contest with her neighbors, she realized what being a mother truly meant.
Martha and her cheerful neighbor Jen strolled up the pathway to Lois’s house, the faint scent of freshly trimmed grass mingling with the floral perfume wafting from Lois’s garden.
As the door swung open, there stood Lois, her impeccably styled hair and tailored outfit a testament to her attention to detail.
“Welcome, ladies,” Lois greeted them with a smile that hinted at smugness. She grandly gestured for them to enter.
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“Come in, come in.”
Jen, ever the social butterfly, stepped in first. “Wow, Lois, your home looks stunning as always!” she said, her tone warm and genuine.
“I can’t wait to hear what’s new with you.”
Martha followed, already feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. For her, stepping into Lois’s house wasn’t just a visit — it was entering enemy territory.
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Lois wasn’t just a neighbor; she was Martha’s unspoken rival, someone who always seemed to flaunt her accomplishments.
Lois led them into the living room, a space that looked like it had been pulled straight out of a magazine. Every piece of furniture was perfectly coordinated, and the room practically sparkled.
“Let me show you something,” Lois said, her voice dripping with pride. She motioned to a set of plants lining the windowsill.
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“These are imported from Italy. Aren’t they divine? They really bring a sense of elegance to the room.”
“Oh, they’re gorgeous!” Jen said, leaning in for a closer look. “You have such a knack for decorating, Lois.”
Martha, however, merely nodded, forcing a tight smile. To her, this wasn’t about plants — it was Lois reminding everyone how much better she was.
The tightness in Martha’s jaw betrayed her efforts to stay calm.
“And look at this,” Lois continued, picking up a delicate tea set from the table.
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“It’s made from a rare ceramic. Took weeks to arrive, but it was worth it, don’t you think?”
Jen clapped her hands together.
“Beautiful! You really know how to choose the best.”
As the women settled into their chairs, Jen suddenly lit up with an idea.
“You know what we should do? Let’s have a little contest this weekend — a ‘Best Mom’ competition!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Lois raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yeah!” Jen said, her excitement growing.
“Each of us can cook a dish, show off our homes, and have our kids perform something. It’ll be fun! A little family-friendly rivalry never hurt anyone.”
While Jen imagined a fun, lighthearted event, Martha and Lois exchanged glances.
To them, this was more than a casual game — it was a chance to prove who was better. Both women nodded without hesitation, their competitive spirits igniting.
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“Sounds perfect,” Lois said, her tone sharp and confident.
“I’m in,” Martha added, determined not to be outdone.
Jen clapped her hands together.
“This will be so much fun!” she exclaimed, oblivious to the subtle tension simmering between her neighbors.
Back home, Martha stood in the kitchen, her mind already racing with ideas for the competition.
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She called out sharply, “Ellie! Come here, please!” Her voice echoed through the house, urgency clear in her tone.
Ellie appeared moments later, her hair slightly messy from playing outside. “What’s up, Mom?” she asked, her cheerful demeanor lighting up the room.
Martha wasted no time.
“This weekend, we’re participating in a competition with Lois and Jen — a ‘Best Mom’ contest. We need to give it everything we’ve got. Our family’s reputation is on the line.”
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Ellie’s smile faltered slightly, sensing the weight in her mother’s voice. But she nodded quickly, her usual optimism kicking in.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t let you down. I’ll do my best.”
Martha gave her a brisk nod. “Good. Let’s get started.”
They dove into the first task: cooking. Martha had decided on her famous apple pie, a recipe she knew could impress.
She meticulously instructed Ellie; from peeling the apples to mixing the dough.
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“No, not like that,” Martha corrected when Ellie tried rolling out the crust. “It needs to be perfect.”
Ellie smiled nervously and adjusted her technique. “Got it, Mom.”
Despite the sharpness in Martha’s tone, Ellie didn’t complain. She softly hummed as she worked, trying to stay positive.
The kitchen smelled heavenly as the pie baked, its golden crust a testament to their hard work.
Next, Martha dragged Ellie outside to inspect the lawn.
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“We can’t have a single weed or blade of grass out of place,” she declared, bending down to straighten a flower. They worked side by side, ensuring every detail was flawless.
Finally, they moved to Ellie’s room to rehearse her violin performance. Ellie set up her sheet music, her fingers slightly trembling as she began to play.
Halfway through, she stumbled on a note, her nerves taking over.
“Ellie, focus!” Martha snapped, her frustration clear. “You need to get this right.”
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Ellie’s cheeks reddened, and she swallowed hard.
“I will, Mom. Let me try again.”
As she lifted the bow to the strings, the pressure in the room felt almost tangible.
Ellie pushed forward, determined to meet her mother’s expectations, even as the weight of it all began to build.
The day of the competition dawned bright and chilly. Neighbors gathered in the crisp morning air, chatting excitedly as the three contestants prepared for their first challenge.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Martha stood near her table, carefully arranging her apple pie on a decorative platter.
Nearby, Jen cheerfully set out her mac and cheese, and Lois placed her lasagna with an air of confidence that made Martha’s jaw tighten.
Nigel, the elderly man appointed judge from across the street, shuffled forward to begin the tasting.
His reputation for fairness and thoughtful opinions made him the perfect choice. He picked up his fork with a kind smile and approached Jen’s dish.
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“Mac and cheese,” he remarked, taking a bite. Jen’s sons watched with wide, eager eyes as he chewed thoughtfully. Finally, he smiled warmly.
“Simple but comforting. Well done.”
Jen grinned, clearly pleased. “Thank you, Nigel!”
Next, Nigel turned to Martha’s apple pie. Martha clasped her hands tightly, her stomach churning with nerves as he sliced into the golden crust. He took a bite, his face betraying nothing as he chewed.
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Then, with a small nod of approval, he said, “Lovely balance of flavors. A classic done right.”
Martha exhaled in relief, allowing herself a small smile. But that relief was short-lived as Nigel moved to Lois’s table.
Her lasagna, perfectly layered with bubbling cheese and a rich tomato sauce, looked straight out of a cooking show.
Nigel took one bite, then another, and another, finishing the entire serving.
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“Well,” he said with a chuckle, wiping his mouth. “This lasagna is exceptional. The first point goes to Lois.”
Lois beamed while Martha’s face fell.
“It’s just one round,” she muttered under her breath, trying to stay composed. She quickly urged Nigel to begin the next stage.
Nigel moved from house to house, inspecting the exteriors.
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Jen’s home was charming, with bright flowers in simple pots, but Nigel seemed more impressed by Martha’s perfectly manicured lawn and vibrant flower beds.
“This is beautiful,” he declared, awarding Martha the point for the best exterior. Martha felt a rush of satisfaction as Lois’s expression soured.
Finally, it was time for the last round: the children’s performances. Pam, Lois’s daughter, was first.
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She stepped forward confidently to sing but faltered midway, her voice cracking. Her face flushed, and she ran off, refusing to continue.
Martha smirked, feeling her chances of winning improve.
Next, Jen’s sons performed. Their dance routine was unpolished, but their playful energy and heartfelt song about their mom touched the audience.
“She’s our superhero,” they sang, drawing smiles and applause.
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As the boys finished, Martha realized Ellie was nowhere to be seen. Her confidence wavered.
“Go get her,” Nigel said, glancing at his watch. “We don’t have all day.”
Panicked, Martha rushed back to the house, her heart pounding. Something was wrong, and she needed to find Ellie fast.
Reaching Ellie’s room, Martha paused outside the door, hearing muffled sobs from within. Her heart sank.
Ellie was always cheerful, her laughter lighting up even the gloomiest days. Hearing her cry was like a punch to Martha’s chest.
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She hesitated, unsure how to approach her daughter, then gently knocked and opened the door.
Ellie spun around, hastily wiping her eyes. Her face was red, and her hands trembled as she tried to shove something into her desk drawer.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Martha asked, her tone soft and concerned — a stark contrast to her usual commanding voice.
Ellie forced a shaky smile. “It’s nothing, Mom. Don’t worry. I’ll win. I promise to make you proud.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her voice wavered as she spoke, but before Martha could say anything, Ellie grabbed her violin and bolted past her.
Martha stood frozen for a moment, staring at the desk. Something didn’t feel right.
Glancing toward the hallway, she hesitated. Part of her knew she should respect
Ellie’s privacy, but another part — her instincts as a mother — told her to look. Slowly, she opened the drawer and found Ellie’s diary.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her hands trembled as she flipped through the pages, the last entries smudged with tear stains. The most recent page caught her eye. As she read the words, her heart broke:
“Today, I can’t fail. I have to be perfect. Mom is counting on me, and I know I can do it. But why am I so scared? I’ve played this piece perfectly before, so why do I keep messing up now? Please, let everything go right. I want Mom to be proud of me. I want her to love me. I can’t lose…”
Tears welled up in Martha’s eyes. She had never realized how much pressure she had put on Ellie — not for Ellie’s sake, but for her own pride.
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Ellie wasn’t trying to succeed for herself; she was doing it to win her mother’s love and approval.
Placing the diary back carefully, Martha rushed outside. Ellie was standing by the stage, gripping her violin tightly, her knuckles white.
Her eyes darted nervously across the crowd.
Martha ran to her without a second thought, pulling her into a tight embrace.
“I’m so sorry, Ellie,” Martha whispered, her voice breaking. “You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to prove anything. I already love you, and I’m so proud of you — no matter what.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Ellie froze for a moment, then relaxed into her mother’s arms. Her tears spilled over, but this time, they were tears of relief. “Thank you, Mom,” she whispered.
Back on stage, Nigel smiled kindly as he announced that the points would be shared evenly, declaring all three mothers winners.
Jen clapped enthusiastically, her joy infecting the crowd. “This was so much fun!” she exclaimed.
Martha turned to Jen, her eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you for helping me see what being a great mom truly means.”
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: As good friends often do, Lisa and Lora decided to show their support and took Emma to a ski resort for Christmas to help her forget about her recent breakup. However, veering off the trail with Sam made her realize that this Christmas wouldn’t go as planned. Read the full story here.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers 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.
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