**Diary Entry – 12th May**
It’s been over six months since my son-in-law lost his job, and yet he’s still living off us while my daughter defends him.
Words can’t describe how painful it is to watch what our family has become—grown adults refusing to take responsibility for their own lives. Just the other day, I argued with my daughter, and the reason was him—a man who hasn’t worked in eight months and shows no initiative to change that. And my daughter… she makes excuses for him. She says he shouldn’t take just any job, not with his qualifications and experience. Apparently, living off her parents isn’t something to be ashamed of.
Two years ago, they had a lovely wedding. Everything was proper, civilised. Both families contributed equally to help them buy a flat. They renovated it themselves—back then, they both had jobs, they could manage. Yes, they spent frivolously at times, but we didn’t interfere. They were adults; they had to learn.
Six months ago, my grandson was born. Of course, we were overjoyed—what a blessing! But with joy came trouble. My daughter went on maternity leave, and almost at the same time, he lost his job. No savings. They asked for help, and naturally, my husband and I didn’t refuse. His parents chipped in too. We bought everything—the pram, the cot, you name it. She gets peanuts in benefits, and he’s been “looking for work”… for eight months.
He promised it was temporary, that he’d find the right job soon and pay us back. We never demanded repayment—just for them to stand on their own feet. But time passes, and nothing changes. My husband and I are exhausted. Is it really so hard to take *something*—a warehouse job, deliveries, anything? But he insists it’s “beneath him.” And she backs him up.
The other day, I lost my temper and told her exactly what I thought. I said, *He’s a man, a father—he should provide for his family!* Instead, he lounges on the sofa waiting for the stars to align and his dream job (paying £100k, no less) to fall into his lap. Meanwhile, my husband and I are working ourselves to the bone so they don’t starve.
She took offence. Called me cruel, said I didn’t understand their situation. *If he settles for any old job,* she argued, *he’ll have no time or energy for interviews, and what good would that do?* With the baby, she said, life is hard enough already.
Listening to her, I felt anger boiling inside me. When did young people start believing their parents owe them—and their children—a free ride? My husband and I raised her without relying on grandparents. We worked, we managed. We never expected handouts. But them? They’ve made themselves comfortable.
I spoke to his mother. She’s fed up too—says her son complains about stress but won’t so much as pick up a hoover, let alone find work. We agreed: enough is enough. The tap has to be turned off. No more weekly groceries, no more nappies bought on our dime. Just the bare essentials—prearranged between us.
It may sound harsh. Yes, they’re our children. But is love really about endless indulgence? Is coddling them while they stagnate true care? They need to learn that family means hard work, not an endless holiday.
If we don’t shake them awake now, in a year, they’ll be worse off. He’ll still be waiting for perfection, she’ll still insist they’re doing *the right thing*—only they’ll be living entirely on us, without a shred of shame.
And what example is that setting for my grandson? Is this really how it should be?
