One week before Christmas, I was in the kitchen baking gingerbread cookies when I heard my daughter, Melissa, laughing in the living room. She didn’t know I could hear her from where I stood. She was on a video call with her husband, her sister-in-law, and a few friends. “Just leave all eight kids with her,” she joked loudly. “We’ll go on vacation and finally relax. Mom always lets us do whatever we want. Free babysitter, right?” The group burst into laughter. I stood there holding the mixing bowl, my hands trembling just slightly. I love my grandchildren more than anything in the world. I spoil them, make their favorite treats, and babysit whenever my adult kids need help. But I am sixty-three. My knees hurt when I walk too long. I get tired after an hour at the playground. I can’t cook, chase toddlers, wrap gifts, and keep a house running at the same time—not for eight children under the age of ten……..CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
My Daughter Called Me “Free Babysitter”—I Gave Her a Christmas She’ll Never Forget
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