Grace and Simon’s different way of raising their kids caused a fight with Simon’s mom, Patricia. The family’s togetherness was on the line when a plan that seemed harmless to help their daughter become independent was ruined. How far would they go to stand up for this choice?
Our daughter Hope is five years old, and her name is Hope. I’m also six months pregnant with a boy. Our days are full of fun and busy things. When it comes to food, Simon and I think it’s important to let Hope make her own decisions as a parent.
We want her to know what her body needs and choose foods that are good for it. To help her with this, we set up a cute little kitchen that only sort of works.
“Simon, do you believe the pump is strong enough?” I asked him one Saturday morning as I watched him mess around with the small sink. A piece of hair was brushed out of his face as he smiled.
“It will work, Grace.” Wait and see. It will make Hope happy.
There was a small fridge and a sink that Simon set up with a weak pump in the little kitchen. There was a place where Hope kept her snacks, like candy and bananas.
She could pick up whatever she wanted and even “cook” small meals like cereal or fruit salad. Of course, she couldn’t touch anything dangerous, but she loved helping us cook. She didn’t get crazy over chips or candy because she knew she could have them whenever she wanted.
Hope loved her cooking so much. “Look, mom!” She would happily hold up a bowl of chopped bananas and strawberries and say, “I made a fruit salad!”
“Oh, honey, that looks so good!” I would answer and hug her tight.
But not everyone liked the way we raised our kids. There was a time when my mother-in-law, Patricia, stayed with us. She had very different ideas. She believed that letting Hope eat snacks whenever she pleased would make her fat.
Patricia told Grace, “This is crazy,” as she watched Hope eat a cereal bar one afternoon. “She’s going to ruin her dinner.”
“It’s okay, Mom.” “She knows what she needs,” Simon said in a soft voice. “She won’t eat too much.”
Patricia took away Hope’s cereal bar the first night she came because dinner was at 6 p.m. and it was already after 4 p.m. Hope’s face was scrunched up, and she stared at me with big eyes.
“Please, Grandma!” She begged, “I’m hungry now.”
Simon told his mom, “Give it back to her.” Patricia gave in, but it was clear that she didn’t agree. I believed that was the end of it, but I was wrong.
Heather agreed to watch Hope from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. last night because our helper got sick. It looked like it would be easy since Hope goes to bed at 7:30 p.m. I thought everything would go well when Simon and I went on a rare dinner date.
The house was a mess when we got home around 10 p.m. Hope was awake and crying, and her tiny kitchen was a mess. As I rushed to comfort her, my heart sank.
“Hey honey, what happened?” I asked while giving her a tight hug.
She cried, “Grandma threw away my kitchen.” “I couldn’t eat the fish she made me.” It was really gross.
While I stayed with Hope, Simon went to talk to Patricia. He looked very angry when he got back.
“Hope had to eat fish even though she felt sick,” When Hope tried to make something else, she threw out her food. “She put Hope to bed without anything when she threw up,” Simon said, his voice shaking with anger.
“What?” I gasped. I asked Patricia, “How could you?”
Patricia stood with her arms crossed in front of the door. “She needs to be taught, Grace.” She can’t eat whatever she wants whenever she wants.
I tried to keep my voice steady and said, “That’s not your choice.” “We’ve talked about this.” You went too far.
Simon joined me, and his face was serious. “Mom, not acceptable behavior from you.” You did something wrong. You won’t be able to stay here if you can’t accept the choices we make as parents.
I didn’t care that Patricia looked shocked. The most important thing to me was Hope, who was still sniffling in my arms. “She is our child, and we know what’s best for her.”
Patricia said, “I’m just trying to help,” but she turned away because she knew she had lost this fight.
Hope was calmed down and cleaned up with Simon the rest of the night. She held on tight to me as I put her to bed. “Mommy, don’t let Grandma take my kitchen away again.”
I kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “I promise, sweetie.” “That’s not going to happen.”
When I woke up the next morning, there was a mess. When I walked into the living room, I thought Hope would be playing quietly. I found her sitting on the floor with tears running down her face instead.
Mom, this is my kitchen! It’s no longer there!” She cried so hard that her voice was shaking from sadness.
I hurried outside as a knot in my stomach got tighter. Hope’s favorite small kitchen set, her mini fridge, and all of her small cooking tools were all over the yard.
Everything was wet from the rain the night before. As the fridge lay on its side, water ran down its sides. The kitchen set’s wooden pieces were swollen and broken.
Oh, Simon! My voice broke as I yelled. “Look at this!”
Simon ran out, and as he took in what he saw, his face turned pale. He said, “What the hell happened?” to himself more than to me.
Patricia walked out of the house at that very moment with a coffee in her hand and no expression on her face. She said, “Good morning,” and didn’t pay any attention to the chaos in the yard.
“Did you do that, Mom?” Simon asked, and his voice was almost shaking.
She drank a little of her coffee. “Yes, I did.” It was best for her. “She doesn’t need that silly kitchen.”
I got very angry. “Kate, how could you?” That kitchen was her favorite. “Do you know how important this is to her?”
The tone of Patricia’s answer was rude: “She needs to learn to eat real food, not play with snacks all day.” “All I want to do is help.”
Simon took a step toward his mother and clenched his hands. “This doesn’t help.” You did something wrong. That thing she loves is broken, and you did it without even telling us about it.
It made Patricia roll her eyes. “You two are getting too upset.” It’s just a bunch of toys.
Simon raised his voice and said, “Mom, it’s not just toys.” “It’s about respecting what we decide as parents.” You treated us badly and hurt Hope at the same time.
Hope quietly watched what was going on and then broke down in tears again. “Why did Grandma do that?” “I loved my kitchen.”
I got on my knees next to Hope and gave her a tight hug. “I know, honey.” I promise we’ll fix this.
Simon tried to calm down by taking a deep breath. “Mom, you need to go.” If you can’t follow our rules, we can’t have you here.
It got red on Patricia’s face. “You’re letting me go?” After everything I’ve done for you?”
I stood up and said, “This isn’t about us not being thankful.” “The reason is that you don’t respect the choices we’ve made as parents.” You’ve caused Hope a lot of trouble. This behavior is not okay, and you need to understand that.
Patricia made a face. “Feel bad about doing this. It’s awful that you treat me like that as her grandma.
He shook his head no. “We want the best for our daughter.” If you can’t see that, you might want to stay somewhere else for a while.
As Patricia stomped off to pack her things, Simon and I looked at each other and agreed that we were both tired. He said, “We need to make it clear.” “She can’t get away with this.”
I said yes. “Let’s send her the bill for everything she broke.” That might help her understand how serious we are.
After Patricia left that night, we got together and made a list of everything she had broken. That little cooking set, that little fridge, and all the tools cost a lot of money.
We made an itemized list and added the receipt. Then we emailed it to her with the strong message, “What you did has consequences.”
Things got tense over the next few days. Patricia called us several times and said we were being rude and exaggerating. We stood our ground every time, though.
Hope came up to me one afternoon while I was folding clothes. “Grandma, will you ever come back?”
I sighed because I didn’t know how to explain to a five-year-old how complicated adult arguments are. “Sweetheart, I don’t know.” But we need to make sure that everyone who loves you also treats you with respect.
Hope gave a serious nod. “May I have a new kitchen?”
“Yes, Hope. We will.” “I promise we’ll find an even better one,” I told her with a smile.
Simon walked in and heard what we were saying. “And we’ll make sure no one can take it away from you this time,” he said, stroking her hair.
As we put Hope to bed that night, Simon and I were more determined than ever. We did the right thing. Hope learned that her feelings were important to us and that we would always be there for her.
“Do you think your mom will ever understand?” I asked Simon as I lay in bed with his arm around me.
He sighed. “I hope so, Grace.” We know what’s best for our family, though, so she doesn’t have to. That’s what counts.
I felt at peace at that very moment. We worked as a team, and we would face any problems together. For Hope, for our future child, and for each other.