Dear Diary,
Im at my wits end again. Markmy husbandasked me what all this fuss was for. Who did you have that baby for, Emily? For yourself or for us? I walked home from the office, hungry for a proper dinner and a little peace, only to find myself stuck looking after my sisters little boy. Its not exactly my own child, but it feels like it sometimes.
Olivia shivered and let out a sigh. Honestly, Im not thrilled about it either, she admitted. But I need to get my nails done, and you cant take a toddler into a salon. Mark unbuttoned his jacket, tossed it onto the chair, and muttered about having to feed his nephew in his home clothesmuch less chance of ruining a crisp shirt with baby purée.
I get it, I really do, but a manicure isnt a necessity, is it? Are you the only one we have to look after? I asked, exasperated. Why does our family feel like a nursery school? I reminded her theres still Mom, but she cant be on call every single day. You could help out more, Mark, Olivia snapped, for everyone except yourself and me.
Marks face softened; he wasnt my enemy, just a reliable partner. Emily, if you dont cut her off, shell keep hanging around, he warned. And youll be to blame, because the one who starts the ride decides where it goes.
I pretended to be engrossed in cooking, but inside I knew Mark was right. I didnt want to be a second mother to my nephew, yet I also didnt want a family feud. It all began innocently enough.
Mark, Ive caught a cold and Sammys in my arms. I need to pop to the chemist, but I cant leave the little one alone. I cant do it by myselfhelp, please? Id begged. Olivia didnt think twice; she sprinted to my aid, as if rescuing a sick sister were a routine.
Soon it became a habit. Can you pick up the phone from the repair shop? Olivia would call. Were out of groceries again? I was on it. A parcels arrived at the collection point? I bolted like a personal courier.
I managed these feats because I work flexibly from home, so I could break away when needed. That didnt mean it was easy. Olivias flat is a fifteenminute walk away; the roundtrip, the queue, the waitingplus the little everyday annoyanceseats up at least an hour.
Now I mostly work evenings and sometimes nights, when the flat is quiet. Mark isnt thrilled, and frankly, neither am I. I tried to talk to Olivia.
Olivia, how are things with Paul? He doesnt pitch in much? I asked gently as I handed over another parcel from the online supermarket.
Hes tired after work, comes home exhausted. If Im in the shower, hell watch the baby, but everything else falls on me, she replied.
Olivia looks after her own husband but never thinks of yours, nor of you, Emily. She snorted and fell silent.
And his mother? She lives nearby, doesnt she?
Dont remind me! Olivia rolled her eyes. I have no patience for that woman. When she shows up, my head aches till evening. Shes not a wife, just a fountain of unwanted advice. Id rather starve than ask her for anything.
Is there anyone else? Oksana has a toddler similar to yours. Maybe you could swapone watches, the other runs errands. Or Clara, who isnt working at all, Olivia suggested.
It feels uncomfortable to lean on strangers, Olivia confessed. They arent obliged, after all.
Arent our own families supposed to be more helpful? I sighed.
Thats when I decided to turn her down. Even without Marks input, I knew it wasnt right.
The next day Olivia called, saying shed booked a nail appointment. Emily, come over and watch the baby for an hour. Her tone had shifted from pleading to commanding. It infuriated mewhy should I change my plans just so she can get her nails done?
Sorry, Olivia, I cant today, I replied.
What do you mean you cant? she demanded.
I cant solve all your problems. I have a life too.
I understand, but what am I to do? I have nobody else. Ive already booked the slot; I cant let someone down. Youll never forgive me if I refuse, she retorted.
Olivia, you didnt ask me before booking. Im not a runaway kidnapper or a stayathome mum. Figure it out yourself, I snapped.
She sounded hurt. Its easy for you to say thatyou have no kids, she said. You dont know how hard it is.
She knew my nephew was gradually becoming like my own son, yet I stayed silent. Im not confrontational by nature, so even saying no felt like a triumph.
Olivia didnt give up; she called Mum.
Emily, how can you turn her down? her mother asked. Your sister has a child, and you refuse! Who will help her if not us?
Mom, when she asked me to fetch medicine, I went because it was important. Now she calls every day about trivial things. She even booked a salon appointment! Does it really have to be that urgent? She just wants to look nice, like any woman, I replied.
Mom raised an eyebrow. No ones ever been in your shoes.
Mom, since youre so wise, could you help her? she pleaded.
I? I can barely get around on my own legs! Youre young; its easier for you, Mom replied, surprised.
The words young, childless, still at home had been tossed at me countless times, and I was weary of them. That day I held my ground and didnt help.
In retaliation, Mom and Olivia gave me the silent treatment for a week, acting as if I didnt exist. Others might have taken it calmly, but I felt lost, trying to find a place for myself while longing for peace with the family.
A week later Olivia called again, asking if I could watch the baby while she did her nails. I agreed, though I hated myself for it. It was a choice between exile from the family and enduring the strain.
Youre soft one minute, sharp the next, Mark said after hearing it all. Be careful, or shell never let go.
I sighed, nodded, and lay awake late into the night, pondering how to say no without creating a scene.
The next afternoon the phone rang, predictably.
Emily, I cant cope any longer. The babys feverish, screaming from dawn, and Im running around like a hamster in a wheel! I cant even sit down or use the loo. Come over, well manage together, maybe four of us? she pleaded.
Im sorry, Im at work. We have strict monitoring nowsoftware tracks our activity, even lunch breaks are logged. Its like an office, I replied.
Silence on the line. Olivia seemed to be hunting for a weak spot.
Please, just once, the last time! Ask anyone to cover for you or take a day off, she begged.
I had no choice but to feign acquiescence.
Fine, Ill think of something, I said.
I hung up and texted Paul, asking for his mothers number. Paul didnt refuse, and his mother agreed to pop over to Olivias.
I knew exactly when shed arriveshe kept sending messages.
Whats wrong with you? Youve set her on me! Olivia wrote. You needed help, so I called her, thats all, I replied, pretending nothing had happened. I cant come myself, you know that.
She read it but didnt answer. I felt a small, fleeting victory. Olivia would be fidgety, Mum likely irritated again, but now Olivia would have to sort things out herself or learn to rely on people who truly want to help.
So here I am, scribbling this down, trying to make sense of the endless juggling act. Maybe tomorrow Ill finally draw a line thats respected, or maybe Ill slip back into old habits. All I know is that Im tired of being the familys goto babysitter, and Im learning that saying no, even if it hurts, is sometimes the only way to keep myself afloat.
