No more help until she leaves that layabout: I told my daughter to be independent
Not a penny more until she gets a divorceI made it very clear to my daughter that thered be no more help from us until she left that good-for-nothing.
Every day, our quiet home in Norwich is rattled by argumentsnot between my husband and me, but because of my son-in-law. The man my daughter married is the very picture of idleness and irresponsibility. He hasn’t held a proper job in more than a year; at best, he picks up the odd temporary job, and spends the rest of the time loafing about. My daughter bears the full weight of running the family, raising two toddlers, and shes still officially on maternity leave. And him? He simply exists. A family, but only on paper.
Of course, my daughter cant work full-timethe twins take up every minute of her day. I offered to support her, but on one non-negotiable condition. Yes, the rule is simple and clear: not another pound from us until she divorces that sponger. Helping them would only maintain a man who refuses to stand on his own two feet. I have no interest in funding anyones laziness, especially not his.
From the moment I met Christopher, I never liked him. I was hopeful it would blow over, that my daughter would come to her senses. But, wishful thinkingshe went ahead and married him. Youthful naivety, love, and wishful illusions muddled her decision, and now all of us are picking up the pieces.
My husband and I even gave them my mothers old flat in Chelmsford. We used to rent it out, which was our only retirement supplement. But the young couple couldnt manage the rent, so we let them have it on the understanding that theyd refurbish it just enough for the childrens comfort.
This is where Christopher truly revealed his character:
Im not handy, Im an intellectual. Others who are paid for it can fix things. Well just call in the professionals.
And with what money, Id like to know? He cant even afford to buy a screwdriver. All he does is spout theories and complain about bad luck. Working evenings? Unthinkable. Weekends? People need rest. Hes grown to expect everything handed to him on a silver platter.
When I confessed to his face that he was bone idle, he sulked: Youre not being fair to me. And my daughter? Instead of backing me up, she scolded me:
Its your fault were fighting again. Why do you keep interfering?
At that moment, I decided to take a step back. But I warned herif shed made her bed, shed have to lie in it. Don’t come begging after the fact. But then came the news she was expecting twins, and my heart broke. I hoped Christopher would change under the weight of real responsibility, but nonothing changed. Once again, the burden fell on us. We finished the redecorating, sourced cots for the children, even took my daughter to her check-ups. Christopher? Still slouched on the sofa, glued to his laptop.
Rebecca did her best, but you could see the realisation setting in as the marriage went on. Together, we made the best of it and prepared the flat for the babies, doing what needed to be done with our own hands. Sure, he went out and bought a trinket or two from the charity shop when they were on salebut that means little. If you have a family, you step up. Him? Just another guest in a home where everyone else does the work.
Later, we discovered the truth about how they were staying afloat: theyd secretly taken out a credit card. Kept us in the dark. Until the inevitable phone call came:
Mum, we just cant manage. Please, help us
I was furious.
Rebecca! Youve had children with a man who cant even change a lightbulb! Did you really think you could shoulder it all alone?
Were just going through a tough patch
A tough patch? You have a place to live, you have parents doing everything but tucking you in at night. What about him? He cant find a jobit’s always too little money, too far away, or the hours dont suit!
Mum, you dont understand He IS looking! He just doesnt want to work for peanuts!
Well, people manage to live on peanutsyour children, you, and even him, living off us!
Id had enough. I refused to be milked dry. I told her straight:
As long as youre still married to him, our door is closed. Not another pound. If you want to stay with him, then shoulder the consequences.
She broke down sobbing, Do you want your grandchildren growing up without a father?
I said, with all honesty,
Id rather they grew up without that sort of example for a fathersomeone who lives off others and never pulls his weight.
I am her mother. But I will not be a doormat. I want my daughter to raise her children with a partner, not with a burden. I want her to learn self-respect. I wont give help while he lounges, sipping tea on the sofa.
She hung up without another word, but I know someday shell understand: sometimes, tough love is the truest loveand real independence begins the moment you realise your own worth.
“No More Help Until She Leaves That Good-For-Nothing: I Told My Daughter to Stand on Her Own Two Feet”
“As Long As She Won’t Divorce Him, She Won’t Get a Penny from Us: I Told My Daughter I’d Only Help If She Left That Lazy Layabout”
