My MIL Asked to Have Our Kids for a Week over the Holidays – When I Went to Pick Them Up, My Heart Shattered

When my mother-in-law insisted on hosting my kids for a holiday break, I thought it was harmless—grandma bonding time and a little breather for me. What I didn’t expect was the gut-wrenching discovery that would change everything about how I saw her.

I’m Abby, 34, and I’ve been married to my husband, Brad, for seven years. We have two kids: Lucas, 8, and Sophie, 6. My mother-in-law, Jean, is in her late 60s. We’ve always had what I’d call a cordial relationship—polite smiles, small talk, the occasional dinner invite.

Woman and her mother in law preparing dinner | Source: Midjourney

Woman and her mother in law preparing dinner | Source: Midjourney

But Jean has always been… intense. There’s this energy about her, you know? Like she’s trying to prove she’s the perfect grandmother, but she can be controlling.

“She’s just old-fashioned,” Brad would say with a shrug whenever I mentioned it. “She means well.”

I tried to believe that. For years, I brushed off the little things. Her insistence on calling Lucas her boy or the time she scolded Sophie for eating with her hands, saying, “Not under my roof, young lady!”

Senior woman having dinner with her grandchild | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman having dinner with her grandchild | Source: Midjourney

But when Jean called me last month, her voice cheerful, and asked, “Abby, how would you feel about me taking Lucas and Sophie for a whole week during their holiday break?” my stomach did a tiny flip.

“A week?” I repeated, caught off guard.

“Yes! I’d love to have them all to myself—just spoil them rotten. You and Brad could use the time, couldn’t you? A little break?”

I glanced at Brad, who gave me a thumbs up. “They’ll have fun,” he added.

“Okay,” I agreed hesitantly.

Woman on phone | Source: Midjourney

Woman on phone | Source: Midjourney

She practically squealed with excitement. “Oh, don’t you worry about a thing, dear. They’ll be in good hands.”

Before sending them off, I gave Jean $1,000 for their expenses.

“Jean,” I said as I handed her the envelope, “this is just to make sure you don’t have to dip into your savings for food or anything they might need this week.”

She looked surprised at first but then beamed. “Oh, Abby, that’s so thoughtful of you! Don’t worry, I’ll put it to good use. These kids are going to have the best week ever.”

Woman handing an envelope to her mother in law | Source: Midjourney

Woman handing an envelope to her mother in law | Source: Midjourney

The week crawled by, slower than I expected. I thought I’d enjoy the quiet, but I found myself reaching for my phone to call Lucas and Sophie more often than I should have.

When the day finally came to pick them up, I was practically vibrating with excitement. I couldn’t wait to see their little faces and hear about their week. But as I pulled up to Jean’s house, I felt uneasy.

The house looked the same as always, but something felt… wrong. Maybe it was just me being silly. Or maybe it was the way Jean opened the door.

“Abby! You’re here!” she greeted me with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Senior woman opening her door | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman opening her door | Source: Midjourney

“Hi, Jean! How were they?” I asked, stepping inside.

“Oh, wonderful,” she replied, her voice shaky. But something about her demeanor felt… off. She was too cheerful, too composed like she was holding onto a script.

I glanced around the house, expecting to hear the usual chaos of toys clattering or kids yelling. But the house was silent. Dead silent.

“Where are the kids?” I asked again, glancing around the empty living room. Normally, by now, they’d be running to me with hugs and excited stories.

Anxious woman in a large living room | Source: Midjourney

Anxious woman in a large living room | Source: Midjourney

Jean’s smile didn’t waver, but something was unsettling about the way she clasped her hands together. “Oh, they’re inside,” she said breezily, gesturing toward the house. “They’ve been so busy today—lots of work.”

I frowned. “Work? What kind of work?”

Jean chuckled nervously and waved her hand like I was being silly. “Oh, just little things. Helping out their grandma. You know how kids are, always eager to lend a hand!”

Senior woman smirking | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman smirking | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t know what she meant by “work,” but her tone was off—too sweet, too dismissive. My motherly instincts kicked in, and I felt uneasy.

“Where exactly are they, Jean” I asked, my voice firm now.

Her eyes darted toward the hallway, then back at me. “In the backyard,” she said finally. “They’ve been helping me with the garden. They’re such little troopers!”

I didn’t wait for more excuses. I followed the faint sounds of voices to the sliding glass door. As I stepped outside, the cool air hit me, but it did nothing to stop the wave of dread washing over me.

Anxious woman in the backyard. | Source: Midjourney

Anxious woman in the backyard. | Source: Midjourney

“Lucas? Sophie?” I called out.

Then I saw them. My heart sank.

Lucas and Sophie stood there, their small faces smeared with dirt, their eyes filled with exhaustion and relief as they clung to me. Lucas’ clothes were worn and covered in stains, and Sophie’s shirt had a tear on the shoulder. Neither outfit looked familiar—certainly not what I had packed for them.

Boy and girl digging in the garden | Source: Midjourney

Boy and girl digging in the garden | Source: Midjourney

“Mom!” Lucas gasped, throwing his arms around me. Sophie followed, her tiny frame trembling as she buried her face into my side.

“What is going on here?” I demanded, turning to Jean, my voice shaking with anger. “Why are they out here like this? They were supposed to be having fun, not working!”

Lucas looked up at me, his voice quivering. “Grandma said we had to help. She told us if we worked hard, we’d go to the park… but we never went, Mom.”

Sophie added, “She made us dig all day, Mommy. I wanted to stop, but she said we had to finish first.”

Exhausted little girl standing in the garden | Source: Midjourney

Exhausted little girl standing in the garden | Source: Midjourney

I turned to Jean, who was now standing a few feet away, her arms crossed defensively.

“Jean!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “You promised me you’d spoil them this week, not turn them into laborers! What is this?!”

Jean’s face flushed, and she shifted awkwardly on her feet. “Oh, don’t exaggerate, Abby,” she said, her tone dismissive. “They were eager to help. And why not? A little hard work never hurt anyone. They’ve learned valuable lessons about responsibility and discipline.”

Senior woman arguing with her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman arguing with her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney

“Responsibility? Discipline?” My voice rose, trembling with rage. “They’re children, Jean! They’re supposed to be playing, laughing, being kids—not breaking their backs in your garden! How could you think this was okay?”

Jean threw up her hands, her voice defensive now. “They need to learn that life isn’t all fun and games! You’re raising them to be spoiled, Abby. I was just trying to help!”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I couldn’t let my anger consume me, not in front of the kids. But I needed answers.

Disappointed woman | Source: Midjourney

Disappointed woman | Source: Midjourney

“Jean,” I said, my voice low and controlled, “where’s the $1,000 I gave you for groceries and activities?”

She hesitated, her gaze darting toward the ground. “Oh, I didn’t need to use it for groceries,” she said, forcing a casual shrug. “The kids didn’t need all that food. And I thought… I thought I could use the money for… other things.”

My stomach churned. “Other things? What do you mean by that?”

Jean’s face turned red as she mumbled, “I… I didn’t use the money for the kids. I’ve been struggling with my bills, and I thought if I could get some help with the house and the garden, I could save some money.”

Senior woman arguing with her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman arguing with her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The betrayal hit me like a punch to the gut. “So, you used my children as free labor?” I said, my voice trembling.

She flinched but didn’t deny it. “It wasn’t like that, Abby,” she insisted, her voice defensive. “I thought it would be good for them—teach them hard work.”

“Hard work?” I repeated, my voice rising. “They’re kids, Jean! I gave you that money so you could give them a week of fun and memories. Not… this.” I gestured toward the backyard, where Lucas and Sophie sat on the porch, their small faces pale and weary.

Tired boy and girl sitting on the porch | Source: Midjourney

Tired boy and girl sitting on the porch | Source: Midjourney

It hit me then—this wasn’t just about the garden. Jean had always tried to exert control, to show she knew best, and now she’d dragged my kids into her twisted sense of right and wrong.

I knelt in front of Lucas and Sophie, pulling them into my arms. “I’m so sorry, babies,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “This isn’t what I wanted for you.”

I stood, turning back to Jean, whose head hung low in shame. “Jean,” I said, my voice steady but sharp, “we’re leaving. My kids deserve to be kids—not workers in your garden.”

Guilty senior woman talking to her daughter in law | Source: Midjourney

Guilty senior woman talking to her daughter in law | Source: Midjourney

Her lips trembled as she stammered, “I… I thought I was doing the right thing.”

I shook my head. “No, Jean. You didn’t.”

Without another word, I picked up Sophie, took Lucas by the hand, and led them into the house to gather their things. We were done here.

As we stepped outside, the crisp evening air hit my face, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension inside Jean’s house.

Woman walking away from her mother-in-law's house | Source: Midjourney

Woman walking away from her mother-in-law’s house | Source: Midjourney

Lucas clung tightly to my hand, and Sophie nestled into my arms, her head resting on my shoulder. Their silence was heavier than words, their little bodies weighed down by exhaustion.

“Please, Abby,” Jean called after us, her voice cracking. “Don’t be angry. They’ve learned so much. It was just… it was just a mistake.”

I stopped and slowly, I turned to face her. She stood in the doorway, her expression a mix of desperation and guilt. For a moment, I considered responding, but what could I say that would change anything? The damage was already done.

Guilty senior woman standing in her doorway | Source: Midjourney

Guilty senior woman standing in her doorway | Source: Midjourney

“No, Jean,” I said finally, my voice firm but calm. “This wasn’t a mistake. This was a choice—a choice you made without thinking about what they needed. They’re children, not tools to fix your problems or lessons to prove your point.”

Jean opened her mouth to reply, but I shook my head, cutting her off. “I trusted you. And you broke that trust—not just with me, but with them. I won’t let this happen again.”

She looked down, her face crumpling, but I had no room for her regret at that moment. My kids needed me.

Woman walking away with her children | Source: Midjourney

Woman walking away with her children | Source: Midjourney

As I walked to the car, Lucas finally broke the silence. “Mom?”

I looked down at him, my heart aching at the uncertainty in his voice. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Are we ever coming back here?” he asked softly.

I tightened my grip on his hand and said, “No, buddy. Not until Grandma learns how to treat you the way you deserve.”

Sophie stirred in my arms, whispering, “Good.”

And with that, I buckled them into the car and drove away, leaving behind the house, the garden, and a part of my trust I’d never get back.

Children inside a car | Source: Midjourney

Children inside a car | Source: Midjourney

If you liked this story, here’s another you’ll enjoy: “My MIL asked me to help cover her debt—What I discovered left me horrified.”

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided as “is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

My Husband Forced Me to Stay Home with Our Sick Kids While He Went on Vacation — He’ll Never Forget the Lesson I Taught Him

When our kids fell ill and couldn’t go on our planned family vacation, my husband just ditched us and went alone. What he didn’t know was that his little “me time” getaway would cost him way more than he bargained for.

I trudged through the front door at 8:30 p.m., my feet throbbing after a grueling twelve-hour shift at the hospital. The cacophony hit me like a wall: cartoons blaring from the TV, Zach and Penny shrieking as they chased each other around the living room.

Children playing indoors rambunctiously | Source: Pexels

Children playing indoors rambunctiously | Source: Pexels

And there was Garrett, sprawled on the couch like a beached whale, beer in hand.

“Hey, babe,” he called out, not bothering to look up from his phone. “Rough day?”

I bit back a sarcastic reply. “You could say that. The ER was a madhouse.” I glanced at the disaster zone of toys and snack wrappers surrounding him. “Did you feed the kids dinner?”

Garrett shrugged. “They had some chips earlier. I figured you’d want to cook when you got home.”

I closed my eyes, counting to ten. This had become our new normal over the past few years. I’d come home from saving lives to find a house in chaos and a husband who couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger.

A woman in a nurse uniform crashed out on a couch | Source: Pexels

A woman in a nurse uniform crashed out on a couch | Source: Pexels

“Mommy!” Penny latched onto my leg, her blonde pigtails askew. “I’m starving!”

I forced a smile. “Okay, sweetie. Let’s get you both some real food.”

As I reheated leftovers, my mind drifted to our upcoming beach vacation. Maybe a change of scenery would help us reconnect, remind Garrett why we fell in love in the first place.

“So, you packed for the trip yet?” I asked, setting plates in front of the kids.

Garrett grunted. “Nah, I’ll throw some stuff in a bag tomorrow. No big deal.”

A man relaxing on a sofa | Source: Pexels

A man relaxing on a sofa | Source: Pexels

I sighed. “We leave in two days, Garrett. A little planning wouldn’t kill you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Relax, it’ll be fine. You worry too much.”

The night before our flight, I woke to the sound of retching. Zach was hunched over the toilet, his face pale and clammy. Within an hour, Penny was sick too.

I gently broke the news to Garrett over breakfast. “We’ll have to postpone the trip. The kids have a nasty stomach bug.”

A couple talking over a meal | Source: Pexels

A couple talking over a meal | Source: Pexels

He froze, fork halfway to his mouth. “What? No way. I’ve been looking forward to this for months!”

“I know, but they’re too sick to travel. We can reschedule”

Garrett’s jaw clenched. “I’m still going.”

I stared at him, sure I’d misheard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I need this break, Nora. Work’s been insane lately.”

“And my job isn’t?” I snapped. “I’m a nurse, Garrett. I deal with real emergencies every day.”

A woman turning away from a man in frustration | Source: Pexels

A woman turning away from a man in frustration | Source: Pexels

He scoffed. “It’s not a competition. Look, you stay with the kids. I’ll go enjoy the beach for both of us.”

I watched in disbelief as he packed his suitcase, ignoring Zach and Penny’s disappointed faces. As the front door slammed behind him, something inside me snapped.

The next week was hell. I juggled caring for two miserable children, all while stewing in rage every time Garrett sent a smug beach selfie.

A woman cares for a sick child while making notes | Source: Pexels

A woman cares for a sick child while making notes | Source: Pexels

On Friday, my phone buzzed with another photo: Garrett grinning over a fancy cocktail, caption reading “Living the dream!”

That was it. I had had enough, and I had a plan.

I marched into the garage, surveying Garrett’s precious “man cave.” His fishing gear, the boat he’d barely used, piles of expensive junk he’d accumulated over the years. A plan formed in my mind.

I spent the next few hours photographing everything, creating listings on the local buy-and-sell site. Within days, Garrett’s prized possessions were gone, replaced by a fat wad of cash in my purse.

A woman standing in a cluttered garage, surveying fishing gear and a boat | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in a cluttered garage, surveying fishing gear and a boat | Source: Midjourney

“Guess what, kids?” I announced over breakfast. “We’re going on our own special vacation!”

Their eyes lit up. Zach pumped his fist. “Awesome! Where are we going?”

I grinned. “It’s a surprise. But I promise it’ll be even better than Dad’s boring old beach.”

We arrived at the resort a few days later, the kids bouncing with excitement. As I watched them splash in the pool, I felt lighter than I had in years.

A figure floating leisurely in a tropical resort pool | Source: Pexels

A figure floating leisurely in a tropical resort pool | Source: Pexels

“Mom, watch this!” Zach called, attempting a cannonball. I cheered, then turned to help Penny blow up her water wings.

“You’re a natural with them,” a voice behind me said. I turned to see a woman about my age smiling. “Single mom?”

I hesitated. “It’s… complicated.”

She nodded knowingly. “I’ve been there. I’m Tessa, by the way.”

We chatted as the kids played, swapping stories about work and parenthood. It felt good to connect with someone who understood.

Two women sit by a pool, talking and laughing while children play in the background | Source: Midjourney

Two women sit by a pool, talking and laughing while children play in the background | Source: Midjourney

“So, what’s your story?” Tessa asked, sipping her lemonade.

I sighed. “My husband decided to go on our family vacation without us when the kids got sick. Left me to deal with everything while he partied on the beach.”

Tessa’s eyes widened. “Seriously? What a jerk!”

I nodded. “Yeah, it was the last straw. I’ve been putting up with his selfishness for years, but this — I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“So what did you do?” she asked.

A close up of a woman sitting beside a resort pool, talking | Source: Midjourney

A close up of a woman sitting beside a resort pool, talking | Source: Midjourney

A mischievous smile crept across my face. “I sold all his precious toys and used the money to bring the kids here.”

Tessa burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that’s brilliant! How’d he take it?”

“He doesn’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.”

As if on cue, my phone started buzzing. Garrett’s name flashed on the screen.

“Speaking of the devil,” I muttered. “I should probably take this.”

Tessa gave me an encouraging nod. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

A woman sitting beside a pool looking at her mobile phone | Source: Pexels

A woman sitting beside a pool looking at her mobile phone | Source: Pexels

I stepped away from the pool, taking a deep breath before answering. “Hello?”

“Where the hell is all my stuff?” Garrett shouted, not bothering with a greeting.

I leaned against a palm tree, surprisingly calm. “Oh, you noticed? I thought you’d be too busy ‘living the dream’ to care.”

“Don’t play games, Nora. What did you do?”

“I sold it,” I said simply. “All of it. Your precious fishing rods, that boat you never use, everything.”

A woman talking on a mobile phone beside a resort pool | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking on a mobile phone beside a resort pool | Source: Midjourney

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, “You what? How could you!”

“How could I?” I interrupted, my voice rising. “How could you abandon your sick children for a beach vacation? How could you ignore everything I do for this family?”

“That’s different! I work hard to provide for you.”

“And I don’t?” I shot back. “I’m done, Garrett. Done with your selfishness, done with being taken for granted.”

He sputtered, “What are you saying?”

A man making a mobile phone call using earbuds | Source: Pexels

A man making a mobile phone call using earbuds | Source: Pexels

I took a deep breath. “I’m saying I want a divorce.”

The line went quiet. When Garrett spoke again, his voice was low and dangerous. “You’ll regret this, Nora. I’ll make sure of it.”

I hung up, my hands shaking. Part of me wanted to cry, to mourn the life we’d built together. But a larger part felt… free.

I walked back to the pool, where Tessa was indulging in a cocktail.

“Everything okay?” she asked, concern etched on her face.

A woman reclining beside a pool, cocktail in hand | Source: Pexels

A woman reclining beside a pool, cocktail in hand | Source: Pexels

I nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah, I think it will be. I just told my husband I want a divorce.”

Tessa’s eyes widened. “Wow, that’s huge. How do you feel?”

“Scared,” I admitted. “But also relieved? Like I can finally breathe again.”

She squeezed my hand. “That’s totally normal. Trust me, it gets better.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the kids, building elaborate sandcastles and splashing in the waves. For the first time in years, I felt genuinely happy.

A child playing on a beach | Source: Pexels

A child playing on a beach | Source: Pexels

That night, as I tucked the kids into bed, Zach looked up at me with serious eyes. “Mom, are you and Dad getting divorced?”

My breath caught in my throat. “Why do you ask that, sweetie?”

He shrugged. “I heard you on the phone. And you seem happier here without him.”

I sat on the edge of his bed, choosing my words carefully. “Your dad and I have been having problems for a while now. We’re going to try to work things out, but… yes, we might get divorced.”

A woman sits with a young boy wearing a serious expression | Source: Midjourney

A woman sits with a young boy wearing a serious expression | Source: Midjourney

Zach nodded solemnly. “Okay. As long as you’re happy, Mom. That’s what matters.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I hugged him tight. “When did you get so wise, huh?”

After the kids were asleep, I stood on the balcony, watching the moonlight dance on the waves. My phone buzzed with a text from Garrett:

“This isn’t over. I’ll see you in court.”

A pair of hands holding a mobile phone | Source: Pexels

A pair of hands holding a mobile phone | Source: Pexels

I took a deep breath, letting the ocean air fill my lungs. The road ahead would be tough, but I felt ready to face whatever came my way.

As I crawled into bed, I thought about the uncertain future ahead of us. It was terrifying, yes, but also exhilarating. For the first time in years, I felt like I was taking control of my life.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, I let the sound of the ocean lull me to sleep, dreaming of the fresh start waiting on the horizon.

A tropical resort setting at night | Source: Pexels

A tropical resort setting at night | Source: Pexels

What would you have done? If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you about a woman whose husband left her and her kids alone with heavy luggage while he was with friends, so she taught him a harsh lesson.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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