Im bubbling over with frustration! Today I had another row with my mum, and my husbands parent wont even ring me. In theory, were fortunate because weve got two grandmasmy own and my mothers partners ex-wife.
Mind you, fortunate is stretching the definition. Its really more of a technicality than a blessing. Both grandmas live a hop, skip, and a jump from our sons nurseryabout a hundred yards, if Im being precise. And yet both have taken a firm and unwavering stance: under absolutely no circumstances will they ever fetch him from nursery. Id happily do it myself, but my workday finishes at 9pm, so Id have to teleport there to pick him up on time. My husband isnt much better offhe works shifts down at the factory and cant always make it, either.
Because practically everyone in our town works at the factory, the nursery set up a special late group, where kids can stay until 10pm. But, of course, that costs extraan absolute fortune in poundsand it throws our already shaky family budget straight into the Thames. And mind you, this is all with two living grandmas!
My mum works till 6pm and, like clockwork, strolls past the nursery every day on her way home. However, her personal life has recently taken centre stage; shes divorced my stepdad and decided to put herself first. According to her, she needs to unwind after work and slather herself in face masks to look decades younger. Every weekend shes got an itinerary fit for a minor celebrity: cinema trips, gallery openings, drinks with friends.
Shell take her grandson with her every once in a blue moon, and only on Saturdays. Apparently, hes a threat to her well-honed routines, forever whizzing about her flat and ruining her meditation space. My mums quite the expert in parenting advice, yet will refusewith actual moral convictionto participate in the real thing.
Now, my husbands parenthis mother, to be preciseis a story unto herself. Shes never held a job. Not once. Always a housewife, she raised four childrenall spaced less than three years apart. My husbands her eldest. Youd think shed be the perfect candidate for some grandparental support, but absolutely not. According to her, shes played enough with her own kids, and now her days are jam-packed. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, managing her empiremeeting everyone off the late shift, feeding them, tidying up afterwards, and shepherding her grown sons off to bed. This is despite the fact that her youngest boys (eighteen and twenty-one now) are fully capable men who can, presumably, heat up a pasty without burning down the house.
One time she actually fetched her grandson, but was so scandalisedEven the weather felt too warm!she had no time to get anything done. Her menfolk returned from work famished and exhausted, and she let me know, in no uncertain terms, that I “had a child for myself, not for her,” so I ought to sort out my own childcare arrangements. The message was clear: do not expect any more help from her end.
For a while, we lucked out thanks to my husbands colleague, who liked an afternoon nap and could pick up our son when I did the early shift. Then she settled elsewhere, replaced by an aunt who wont do evenings, thus sending us right back into the nursery fee abyss. Im fuming at our grandmas hypocrisythey show up for every holiday, gush about how much they adore him, and then boast over who spent more on birthday gifts. What we need isnt gifts, its actual help.
Today, I was left begging my mum to pick up my son, because theres just no way we can afford the late group fees. When it comes to our parents, the idea of practical or financial support is a pipe dream. My mother-in-law wont chip in, eitherher grown boys apparently eat like rugby teams, so all her money gets funneled into the weekly shop. Honestly, I have no idea how were meant to get out of this mess. Everything my husband and I earn vanishes on food, clothes, or household stuff, and then we have to shell out twice over for nursery. How do you convince English grandmas to help out with actual childcare, instead of just drowning you in birthday teddy bears?
