I Was My Son’s Free Nanny and Cook Until They Saw Me at the Airport with a One-Way Ticket.

**Diary Entry**

I had been my sons familys free babysitter and cook until they spotted me at the airport with a one-way ticket.

“Nina, hi! Am I interrupting?” My daughter-in-law, Katies voice rang with forced cheerfulness through the phone.

I stirred the long-cold soup in silence. Interrupting? I was never too busy when they needed something.

“Im listening, Katie.”

“Weve got newsits epic! Leo and I booked tickets to Spain for two weeks! All-inclusive, can you believe it? A last-minute deal!”

I could picture it. Sun, sea, Leo and Katie. And somewhere out of frametheir five-year-old son, Alfie. My grandson.

“Congratulations. Im thrilled for you,” I said flatly, the words lifeless, like a medicine label.

“Oh! And youll take Alfie, wont you? He cant go to nursery right nowtheres chickenpox going round again.”

Then theres his swimming lessons, which he shouldnt miss. And the speech therapist next weekshed send me the full schedule.

She spoke quickly, not letting me get a word in, as if afraid I might think and refuse. Though I never refused.

“Katie, I was planning to go to the countryside for a few days while the weather holds…” I began, not even believing my own weak attempt.

“The countryside?” Genuine disbelief coloured her voice, as if Id announced a trip to Mars. “Mum, honestlywho cares about the countryside? Alfie needs you here!”

They werent going for fun, she insisted, but for their health. Sea air, vitamins!

I stared out at the grey courtyard. My sea air. My vitamins.

“And one more thing,” she continued without pause. “The cat food deliverys coming Wednesdaypremium stuff, twelve kilos. The couriers window is ten till six, so dont go out, alright? And water our plants, especially the orchid. Its fussy.”

She listed my duties as if they were a given. I wasnt a personjust a function. A convenient, free app in their comfortable lives.

“Fine, Katie. Of course.”

“Thats my girl! I knew we could count on you!” She chirped as if granting me a great favour. “Right, gotta dashgot suitcases to pack!”

The line went dead.

I set the phone down slowly. My eyes fell on the wall calendar. A red circle marked next Saturdaya reunion with friends I hadnt seen in nearly a year.

I picked up a damp cloth and wiped the mark away. Erasing another tiny fragment of my own unlived life.

No anger, no resentmentjust a thick, suffocating emptiness and one quiet, piercing question: when would they realise I wasnt just a free service, but a human being?

Probably only when they saw me at the airport with a one-way ticket.

Alfie arrived the next day. Leo hauled in a massive suitcase, a sports bag stuffed with swim gear, and three bags of toys. He avoided my eyes.

“Mum, were in a rushgot a flight to catch,” he muttered, dumping the suitcase in the hall.

Katie swept in after him, already in holiday modeflowy dress, floppy hat. Her gaze flickered over my modest flat.

“Nina, dont let Alfie watch too much telly, read to him instead. And go easy on sweetshes a nightmare when hes hyper.”

She handed me a sheet folded into quarters. “Heres the routine, all his appointments, what to feed him each day.”

As if Id never met my own grandson. As if I hadnt cared for him since birth while they built their careers.

“Katie, I remember what he likes,” I said quietly.

“Rememberings one thing, but his diets another,” she snapped. “Right, Alfie-love, be good for Granny! Well bring you back a super-duper toy car!”

They left in a cloud of expensive perfume and the lingering sense of a draft.

Alfie, realising hed been left behind, sobbed. The first three days were a blurswimming lessons across town, speech therapy on the other side, tantrums, midnight tears, endless “I want Mummy.” I was exhausted.

On day four, I called Leo. Theyd just checked into their hotel.

“Mum? Whats wrong? Is Alfie okay?” His voice was tense.

“Alfies fine. Leo, I wanted to talk Im struggling. This pace is too much. Could you hire a part-time nanny? Id pay half.”

Silence. Then a heavy sigh.

“Mum, dont start, alright? Weve just got here. Katies been stressed enough. A nanny? Whod we trust? Youre his grandmother. This should be a joy for you.”

“Leo, joy doesnt cancel exhaustion. Im not getting younger.”

“Youre just out of practice,” he said gently but firmly. “Youll adjust. Lets not ruin each others holiday. We dont get away often. Right, gotta goKaties calling.”

He hung up. I stared at the phone, something inside me hardening. Not anger. Just cold, clear understanding.

To him, I wasnt his mother who might struggle. I was a resource. Reliable, tested, andcruciallyfree.

Wednesday came. The courier dumped twelve kilos of cat food on the doorstep and left. I strained my back dragging it inside. Sitting beside the fishy-smelling sack, I laugheda quiet, soundless laugh.

That evening, Katie called. Waves and music in the background.

“Nina! Did you water my orchid? Only with filtered water, remember? Not on the leavesat the roots!”

She didnt ask about Alfie. Or me. Just the plant.

“I remember, Katie. Everythings under control,” I said, eyeing the damned cat food.

That night, I barely slept. Not thinking about the countryside or my cancelled reunion. I opened my wardrobe, took out my old savings book and passport. Just held them, tracing the covers.

The thought that had flickered to life days ago wasnt just fantasy anymore. It had shape. A plan.

The call came on day ten of their “holiday.” Leo, mid-afternoon, just as Alfie napped.

“Mum! Hows our little man?”

“Asleep,” I said shortly.

“Listen, thing is” He hesitated. A request was coming. “This place is paradise. The hotel offered a discount if we stay another week. Mum, its a steal!”

I stayed silent. I knew what came next.

“Thing is, were a bit short” That wheedling tone I hated. “Mum, could you?”

Long story short, Katie remembered Dads sapphire earrings. “You never wear them anyway.”

“What exactly do you want, Leo?” My voice was terrifyingly calm.

“Pawn them, yeah?” he blurted. “Well get them backscouts honour! Theyre just sitting there!”

In the background, Katie snapped, “Leo, spit it out! Nina, theyre just things! We deserve this break!”

Just things. My memories. My family. My life. Pawned for their “well-earned rest.”

Something inside me froze. Not shatteredjust turned to ice.

The emptiness filled with cold, razor-sharp resolve.

“Fine,” I said evenly. “How much?”

“Fifty grand should cover it. Just send a photo of the receipt!”

“Of course, Leo. Enjoy yourselves.”

I hung up. Peeked into Alfies room. He slept, lips smacking softly. My sweet, unwanted boy.

The ice in my chest cracked. I couldnt abandon him. But I couldnt go on like this either.

I texted Leo:

“I wont pawn the earrings. Your holiday ends in four days, as per your tickets. If youre not back by Sunday, Im filing for custody Monday. No discussion.”

The reply was instant: “Are you threatening us?!”

I didnt answer. I opened the airline app and booked a ticket. Malaga. One-way. Tuesday.

They returned Sunday evening. Not arrivingbursting in. Sunburned, irritable, furious.

“Happy now?” Katie snarled. “Ruined the best holiday ever! Manipulative cow!”

Leo stormed past to Alfie, who flung himself at his father.

I walked out holding my passport with the ticket tucked inside. Perfectly calm.

“Im glad youre back for your son,” I said softly. “Now listen. Both of you.”

They fell silent, startled by my tone.

“Five years, Leo. Five years Ive lived in your shadow.”

I collected Alfie when Katie was too busy with manicures. I soothed him through teething nights so they could sleep.