When I came home from the hospital with my newborn, exhausted but elated, I noticed a folded note on the kitchen table. My heart fluttered, thinking it might be a sweet, heartfelt message from my mother-in-law welcoming us back. After all, she had taken care of our beloved golden retriever, Rich, while I was in labor—a kindness I thought was given freely. But as I opened the note, my stomach sank.
It wasn’t a warm welcome. It was a bill.
“You owe me $600 for feeding and walking Rich. My time costs money. You have my bank details.”
I stared at the note, my emotions shifting from disbelief to anger. My husband, Jake, walked in, setting down the baby carrier. “You might want to see this,” I said, holding up the paper.
Jake groaned as he read it. “Seriously? She never mentioned charging us!”
“She didn’t. And now she wants $600 for watching our dog while I was literally bringing your child into the world,” I said, my voice sharp. Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair, and promised to talk to her. But I wasn’t about to let this slide. I had a better idea.
A few days earlier, the situation was completely different. My induction was scheduled for the following morning, and I was sprawled on the couch, nine months pregnant and trying to ignore the sharp ache in my back. Rich, our golden retriever, rested his head on my lap, his big brown eyes full of concern, as if he could sense something was about to change.
“Jake,” I called, wincing through a contraction.
From the kitchen, Jake appeared, sandwich in hand. “Yeah, babe?”
“We need to figure out what to do about Rich while we’re at the hospital,” I said. “Can your mom help out?”
Jake, ever the optimist, nodded. “Of course. Mom loves Rich. She’ll take care of him.” He called Abigail that night, and she agreed immediately, saying she was happy to help.
The next morning, as we handed Rich over, Abigail waved us off with a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control. Go have my grandchild!”
Labor was every bit the nightmare I’d feared—and more. Hours of gripping hospital bed rails, endless contractions, and exhaustion. But when they placed my baby in my arms, all the pain faded into the background. Jake and I cried as we held our perfect little boy, marveling at the miracle we’d created.
Three days later, we were discharged, ready to settle into life as new parents. I imagined a peaceful evening on the couch, introducing Rich to his new little brother. But Abigail’s note shattered that vision in an instant.
A week later, Abigail came over to meet the baby. She walked in with a big smile, cooing over her grandson and marveling at how much he looked like Jake. For a moment, I thought she was here just to enjoy time with the family.
But as she handed the baby back to me, her tone shifted. “So, about that $600… When can I expect the payment?”
I smiled, keeping my voice calm. “Oh, I’m happy to pay you—on one condition.”
Her expression tightened. “What condition?”
I walked over to the desk, pulling out a thick folder I’d prepared earlier. “Since you’re charging us for services, I thought it was only fair we do the same.”
She frowned as I slid the folder toward her. “What is this?”“It’s an invoice,” I replied sweetly. “For every favor we’ve ever done for you. Moving you into your new house last year? That’s $800—family discount included. The time Jake and I paid for your car repairs when your transmission failed? $1,200. Babysitting your neighbor’s kids when you were ‘too busy’? $600. I could go on.”
Her face turned pale as she scanned the itemized list. “This is ridiculous!” she sputtered. “You can’t charge me for things family does for each other!”
“Exactly,” I said, crossing my arms. “Family helps each other out without expecting payment. Or at least, that’s what I thought. But if you want to treat this like a business arrangement, we’ll do it your way.”
Abigail opened and closed her mouth, struggling to form a coherent argument. Finally, she muttered, “This is different. I had to rearrange my schedule for Rich!”
“And I had to rearrange my entire life to have your grandchild,” I shot back, my voice firm. “So, if we’re talking about fair compensation, I’d say we’re more than even.”
Her face flushed red as she stood, grabbing her purse. Without another word, she stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her so hard it startled the baby.
Jake, who had been watching silently from the kitchen, walked over and wrapped me in a hug. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he said with a grin.
I laughed, sinking onto the couch with the baby in my arms. Rich trotted over, resting his head on my knee as if to say, Good job, Mom.
Abigail might not have learned her lesson, but one thing was certain: she wouldn’t be seeing a single cent of that $600. And if she ever tried to pull something like this again? Well, I still had the folder. Let her try me.
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