When my sister-in-law asked me to watch her kids for “just an hour,” I canceled dinner plans with a friend. But then she didn’t come back that night. In fact, she didn’t show up until the next morning, dressed like she had just danced at a fancy wedding all night—because she had. That’s when I realized something important: being too nice can teach people to take you for granted.
So I decided to teach her a different kind of lesson.
Sometimes I think maybe I should just get “doormat” tattooed on my forehead. It would save everyone time. People like my sister-in-law Brianna already assume I’ll drop everything to help them, no matter what. And I’ve let it happen so many times.
That day, I was getting ready for a long-awaited dinner with my college roommate Kate. She was only in town for one night. We had reservations at this amazing new farm-to-table restaurant, the kind you have to book months in advance. I’d been looking forward to it for weeks.
Then my phone buzzed.
Brianna:
“Hey Mia! Quick favor? Need to run a tiny errand. Can you watch the kids for an hour? Pretty urgent, please?”
I was in the bathroom, halfway through doing my mascara. I stared at my reflection. I was wearing my nicest dress. Kate and I had planned to dress up and make a whole night of it.
Just one hour, I told myself. I sighed and typed:
Me:
“What time do you need to drop them off?”
Brianna:
“You’re an angel! Be there in 15!”
Fifteen minutes?
I quickly texted Kate to let her know I’d be a little late and changed out of my nice dress and heels. There was no way I was getting spaghetti sauce or mystery kid goo on silk. I pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt instead.
At exactly 10 minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Brianna stood there, glowing like she was heading to brunch. Her hair was done, her outfit casual but clearly expensive. And behind her stood three small tornadoes—Emma (6), Liam (4), and Zoe (2). They were already fidgeting and whispering excitedly.
“You are literally saving my life,” Brianna said, kissing each child on the forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it!”
I opened my mouth. “Wait, where are you—”
But she was already walking back to her SUV and waving at me from the driver’s seat as she pulled out of the driveway.
I looked down. Three small faces stared up at me.
“Aunt Mia,” Emma chirped, tugging at my shirt. “Mom said you have cookies.”
I forced a smile. “Well… let’s see what we can find.”
By 5:30 p.m., my living room looked like a toy store had exploded. Crayons, dolls, race cars, and puzzle pieces were everywhere. I’d texted Brianna twice. No reply. Kate texted asking if we should reschedule dinner for 8:00. I told her I’d keep her posted.
“When’s Mommy coming back?” Liam asked, his lip starting to tremble.
“Soon,” I said, trying to sound confident. “Who wants to help me make spaghetti?”
Emma’s eyes lit up. “With the twirly noodles?”
I laughed. “Is there any other kind?”
Cooking was chaos. Zoe refused to sit in a chair, Liam spilled sauce on his head, and Emma kept singing a made-up song called “Spaghetti Rain.” I tried calling Brianna again. Straight to voicemail.
I left a message:
“Hey, just checking when you’ll be back. The kids are okay, but I had plans tonight…”
At 6:45 p.m., Zoe screamed bloody murder at the dinner table.
“It’s looking at me!” she shrieked, pointing at a baby carrot.
“Carrots don’t have eyes,” Emma said, sounding very sure of herself.
“This one does!” Zoe wailed.
I picked up the “evil” carrot and bit its tip off. “Look, it’s gone. No more scary carrot.”
Zoe sniffled and accepted this. Just then, Kate texted again: “Should I just bring takeout and come to you?”
I stared at the message, heart sinking.
Me: “I’m so sorry. Rain check? Family emergency.”
But it wasn’t an emergency. It was just Brianna doing what Brianna does. Taking advantage.
By 8:30 p.m., it was clear she wasn’t coming back soon.
Liam had spaghetti in his hair. Zoe smelled like she’d rolled in a hamster cage. I herded them to the bathroom.
“Alright, bath time, troops!”
“But Mom lets us stay up late!” Emma complained.
I gave her a look. “This isn’t your mom’s house.”
Emma pouted. “Fine. But we need Bubbles Bear for bath time.”
“Who’s Bubbles Bear?”
All three kids gasped like I’d asked who Santa was.
“He goes in the bath with us,” Liam said slowly, explaining like I was five. “Mom always brings him.”
Of course, she hadn’t packed anything. No overnight bag. No toothbrushes. No pajamas. No Bubbles Bear.
I dug through my closet and found an old rubber duck.
“Ta-da! Look who’s here! Mr. Ducky wants a bath!”
It wasn’t Bubbles Bear, but it worked. The kids laughed and played in the tub while I got soaked. After drying them off and dressing them in my old T-shirts, I tucked them into the guest bed.
“Is Mommy coming back tonight?” Emma whispered.
“Of course she is,” I lied. “She’s just running late.”
“Okay. Night, Aunt Mia.”
I tried calling Brianna again. Voicemail. I even texted my brother Danny:
“Hey, do you know where Brianna is? She dropped the kids off hours ago.”
No response. Great. That meant he was with her.
I curled up on the couch. Every creak made me jump up to check on the kids. I didn’t sleep much.
At 2:13 a.m., I heard soft footsteps.
“Aunt Mia?” Liam stood in the hallway. “I threw up.”
The next hour was a blur of clean sheets, wiping faces, and ginger ale. I finally got him back to sleep and sat on the couch, angry and exhausted.
The anger didn’t go away.
By morning, I was running on no sleep and caffeine. The kids were happy watching cartoons and eating Cheerios. I was still in the same T-shirt from the night before.
At 9:03 a.m., the door finally opened.
Brianna walked in wearing a dusty pink bridesmaid dress, makeup still perfect, a Starbucks cup in one hand and a gift bag in the other.
“Oh my god, you are a literal saint,” she gushed. “The wedding went so late… then we all crashed at the hotel, and my phone totally died.”
I stared at her. No apology. No shame.
The kids ran to her, yelling about “scary carrots” and “Mr. Ducky.”
Brianna handed me the gift bag. “I got you something! It’s a lavender eucalyptus bath bomb! For stress.”
I looked at it like she’d handed me a rotten tomato.
“Wedding?” I finally asked. “What wedding?”
“Oh, Melissa’s cousin’s. Last-minute bridesmaid situation. I thought I told you.”
“You didn’t. You said ‘quick errand’ and ‘just an hour.’”
She shrugged. “Well, it was supposed to be quick. But you know how weddings go. Anyway, you’re the best!”
She grabbed the kids’ stuff and headed to the door.
“I did have things to do. Last night.”
But she ignored me, calling over her shoulder: “Say thank you to Aunt Mia!”
“Thank you, Aunt Mia!” they sang.
Then they were gone.
I sat down at my desk, pulled up an invoice template, and went to work.
I listed everything:
Hours babysitting
Meals provided
Bath and cleanup
Laundry
Missed dinner
Emotional damage from scary carrots
I totaled it: $620.
I sent it to both Brianna and Danny. Hit send. No hesitation.
Five minutes later, my phone rang.
Brianna was yelling.
“Have you lost your mind?! $620 for babysitting?”
“No,” I said calmly. “For overnight babysitting. For canceling my plans. For staying up with a sick kid at 2 a.m. For being treated like free childcare.”
“But we’re family!”
“Yes, and family respects each other’s time. Family doesn’t lie about errands to go party at a wedding.”
“I didn’t lie! I just… didn’t tell you everything.”
“That’s still a lie, Brianna.”
“You’re being dramatic! Danny thinks so too!”
“Then why didn’t Danny do the babysitting?”
Silence.
“This isn’t over,” she said coldly. “You’ve made things so awkward.”
“No, you did. When you dropped off three kids with no car seats, no clothes, and no warning.”
I hung up.
Twenty minutes later, I got a payment notification. Danny sent the full amount. Plus a $30 tip.
Weeks later, at Thanksgiving dinner, the air was chilly between us. We smiled politely. That was it.
Then my cousin Tyler raised his glass and smirked.
“Hey, who’s watching the kids during the football game? Better check Mia’s rates first!”
Awkward laughs. Danny looked down. Brianna poked at her turkey.
I sipped my wine and smiled.
The lavender bath bomb still sits unopened on my bathroom shelf. I think about using it sometimes. But I like having it there. A sparkly little reminder of the day I finally said, Enough.
Because here’s the truth:
People who treat family like free labor shouldn’t be shocked when they get a bill.
And the most important family member to stand up for… is yourself