I defended myself when my sister requested I take our neglected mother in. This tested family connections, revealed unpleasant facts, and pushed us to face years of unresolved hurt.
I remember my dad working hard to support us as youngsters. My mother stayed home. She wasn’t caring for us. She watched TV all day on the sofa. She rarely cooked or cleaned. It was like she wasn’t our mom.
My sister Amy and I grew up in the same house but had separate lives. I always filled in. At 10, I cooked and cleaned. Amy, however, didn’t move. Mom loved her, and it showed.
Mom kicked me out at 18. She advised me to become independent. Amy, however, stayed. Her age was 16. My dad and mom argued over it.
After much fighting, they divorced. Mom moved rapidly. Her new husband died shortly after she remarried. Mom had nowhere to go after her husband’s death. She requested housing from my family. Reluctantly, I agreed. A mistake. She pretended to own it.
She babysat the kids twice a week for half a day. Even then, she ignored them. She missed changing my baby’s diaper for hours. The final straw. Asking her to leave.
Then Amy intervened. She called me to shame me for kicking out Mom.
“How could you do that to Mom?” Amy yelled on the phone. “You’re a terrible daughter!”
“Me? Amy, how about you? You stated you had no room for her, remember?” Fired back.
Amy’s tone was harsh. “That differs! No room. You do!”
Hearing this was unbelievable. “I can take her in, but not you? Hypocritical, Amy.”
“You’re selfish!” she yelled. “Our mommy! Our debt to her.”
“Owe her? For what? Neglecting us? Kicking me out? Making Dad’s life miserable? She blew her chance to be a wonderful mom.”
You can’t leave her! Very cruel!”
Inhaled deeply. Amy made her bed. She must lie in it. If you’re worried, take her.”
A minute of silence from Amy. Don’t do this. No space.”
Figure it out, Amy. Like I had to.”
I contacted Amy again two days later. “Mom’s moving in with you.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Amy yelled. “You can’t just dump her on me!”
“Oh, so now space is an issue?” Sarcasm oozed from my voice. “When it’s me, I’m supposed to accommodate her, but you can’t?”
Amy was mad. “You’re ruining everything!”
I’m setting limits. Not understanding that is your problem.”
I drove Mom to Amy’s house the next day with her stuff. Amy looked like she’d seen a ghost at the door.
I gave the bags and added, “She’s yours.”
“This isn’t fair,” Amy shook.
“Welcome to my world,” I said. “Maybe now you’ll see why I couldn’t take it anymore.”
I exhale in relief as I drove away. I knew Amy would struggle, but she needed to face reality. First time in years, I felt peaceful. I wanted it to last.
Two days after Mom moved in with Amy, my phone rang. The caller ID showed Amy, so I knew she wasn’t chatting. I picked up, ready for the attack.
“She’s driving me crazy!” Amy yelled before I introduced myself. “Mom’s been here two days, and it’s a nightmare.”
I said, “Well, that’s how I’ve been living,” composed.
“You don’t understand,” Amy shakily said. No action from her. She watches TV on the couch all day. She won’t cook a sandwich.”
“I understand perfectly,” I said. “I lived it, remember?”
Sighing, Amy expressed annoyance. Can’t handle it. She’s demanding. She claims I owe her everything.”
“That’s what I’ve been dealing with for years,” I said. “Now you see why I asked her to leave.”
A minute of silence from Amy. “I thought you exaggerated,” she said. “But it’s worse than I imagined.”
“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” I add. “But I had to set boundaries for my family’s sake.”
Relief flooded me after hanging up. House was calmer and tranquil. I noticed my kids were happier. They weren’t anxious for their grandmother’s next outburst.
“Mama, can we play a game?” my youngest requested, beaming.
“Of course, sweetie,” I said, lighter than in years.
Days passed, and my home became more peaceful. Without Mom’s negativity, our family felt warmer and closer. My spouse and I had more time together, and the kids were happy.
I received another call while cooking dinner. It was Amy.
“We need to talk,” she murmured, calmly but tense.
“Okay, what’s on your mind?” I requested.
And “Mom is making my life hell,” she stated. “But I think I understand why you did what you did.”
I paused to absorb her remarks. “Go on.”
“I thought you were being cruel, but now I see you were trying to protect your family,” he said. “I just… I don’t know what to do.”
I softly said, “It’s about setting boundaries.” “Mom never learned appropriate parenting. We must satisfy her since that’s all she knows.”
“But how do I deal with her?” Amy asked, more desperate.
“You must be firm,” I suggested. “Explain your limitations to her. Though difficult, it’s necessary.”
Amy sighed. “I guess I never realized how much you were dealing with.”
“It was a lot,” I said. “But it taught me the importance of putting my immediate family first.”
The line paused long. “I’m sorry I judged you,” Amy concluded. “I was wrong.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling lighter. “I’m glad you understand now.”
As I hung up, I realized how much had changed. I felt ignored and alone as a child due to Mom’s disinterest. I could now build a distinct environment for my kids. Setting limits with Mom was difficult but necessary.
Although Amy and I had a lot to go through, I hoped this would bring us closer. It was a start when she saw things my way.
It wasn’t about leaving our mother. It involved recognizing our needs and protecting our health. Child neglect shaped us, but it doesn’t define our lives.
After putting my kids to bed, I felt peaceful and clear. Family responsibility meant many things, but most significantly, providing a loving and nurturing home for my children. And that was worth fighting for.