Little Timofey cried again at three in the morning. Anna opened her eyes and realized that her husband didn’t even stir — Oleg was sleeping the deep sleep of exhaustion after a hard day at work. She got up, went to the crib, and took her son in her arms. The tiny body was hot, his little face red from crying.
“Shh, shh, my good boy,” she whispered, rocking the baby.
Steps came from the next room. Anna’s mother, Galina Petrovna, appeared in the doorway, wearing a robe and slippers.
“Again with the tummy ache?” she asked quietly, coming closer. “Let me hold him, and you feed him… and warm up a cutlet for yourself. When was the last time you ate properly?”
“Mom, go to bed. You’ve been on your feet all day already,” Anna replied tiredly.
“That’s nothing. At my age, sleep isn’t the same — I’ll be up again in a couple of hours anyway.”
Galina Petrovna gently took her grandson. Her hands were those of a war widow who, after her husband’s death, raised her daughter alone, working two jobs. Now, at fifty-eight, she looked younger than her years — always fit, energetic, with bright eyes.
“Well, see, he remembered grandpa,” she smiled as Timofey calmed down a bit. “He knows grandpa would have protected him.”
Anna went to the kitchen. On the stove was already a frying pan with cutlets under a lid — as usual, her mother had thought of everything. Over the past eight months since Timofey was born, Galina Petrovna had practically moved in with them. She cooked, washed, cleaned, went shopping, and most importantly — helped with the baby, who turned out to be a particularly restless child.
“Mom,” Anna called as she returned with a plate, “do you remember about the sanatorium voucher? Tomorrow is the last day to decide.”
Galina Petrovna hesitated, still rocking her grandson:
“What voucher, Anechka? How can I leave you? You see how restless he is. And Oleg is at work from morning till night.”
“Mom, you deserve this rest more than anyone else. Dad wouldn’t forgive you if he found out you refused the sanatorium for our sake.”
“Your father would understand that family is more important,” Galina Petrovna replied quietly. “I can manage. It’s not hard for me.”
But Anna saw how her mother closed her eyes from fatigue, how she sometimes massaged her lower back, thinking no one noticed. She saw how quickly she tired, even though she tried not to show it.
In the morning, as Oleg was getting ready for work, Anna told him about the conversation with her mother.
“You see, she just doesn’t want to let us down. But she really needs rest.”
Oleg thoughtfully sipped his coffee. He was a good husband, but recent months had changed their life a lot. Constant crying of the baby, sleepless nights, household chores that seemed never-ending.
“What about your mom?” he suddenly asked.
“What about my mom?”
“Well, your mom refuses the voucher, and my mom complains she’s tired. Maybe we should give the voucher to her?”
Anna put down her cup and looked at her husband as if seeing him for the first time.
“Are you serious?”
“What’s wrong with that? Your mom is great for helping, but she’s not really tired. My mom is genuinely unwell, says these soap operas have worn her out emotionally. Maybe the sanatorium would help her.”
Anna felt a wave of indignation rising inside her. Her mother-in-law, Valentina Sergeevna, lived in a neighboring district and had visited them exactly four times in eight months — at the christening, on Oleg’s name day, on her own birthday, and last weekend. Each time, she held the grandson for about twenty minutes, took some photos for social media, and left citing fatigue or other errands.
“Oleg, do you have any conscience?” Anna asked quietly.
“What does conscience have to do with it? I’m just being logical.”
“Logical? My mom has practically lived here for over half a year. She gets up at night, washes your shirts, cooks your lunches, sits with your son while you rest. And your mom hasn’t offered to help even once. Not once! And you want to give the voucher, which MY mom earned with her hard work, to someone who’s tired from watching soap operas?”
“Anna, don’t yell. You’ll wake the baby.”
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” Anna’s voice trembled with outrage. “You know my mom is entitled to that voucher as a military widow? You know how rarely her turn comes? And you want to give it to a woman whose biggest problem is worrying about TV show characters?”
Oleg put down his cup and stood up.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” Anna also stood, crossing her arms. “That your mom deserves rest more than mine? While my mom works like crazy, and yours doesn’t even really know her grandson?”
“My mom is sick…”
“Sick with what, Oleg? Chronic laziness? Acute indifference to her own grandson?”
At that moment, Galina Petrovna entered the room holding Timofey. She had obviously heard the argument and looked upset.
“Children, what are you doing? The baby is crying because of your shouting.”
“Mom,” Anna turned to her, “you’re going to the sanatorium. No arguments.”
“Anechka, I told you…”
“No, mom. You’ve been tirelessly helping us for almost a year. You deserve this rest more than anyone. And if my husband doesn’t understand that, that’s his problem.”
Oleg wanted to say something, but the look from his mother-in-law stopped him. There was so much dignity and fatigue in Galina Petrovna’s eyes that he felt ashamed.
“I’m late for work,” he mumbled and left the apartment.
In the evening, when Oleg returned home, Anna met him with a suitcase in hand.
“Where are you going?” he asked, confused.
“Mom left for the sanatorium. I took her to the bus myself because she resisted until the last moment. And now we have a perfect chance to test your theory about who’s really tired here and who’s not.”
“Anna, don’t be childish.”
“I’m going to a friend’s for a few days. Timofey is staying with you. Ask your mom to help — she’s so tired of soap operas, let her rest with her grandson.”
“Anna, you can’t leave the baby!”
“I’m not leaving the baby. I’m leaving him with his father. Isn’t that normal? Or do you think only women should take care of children?”
Anna grabbed her bag and headed for the door.
“Wait,” Oleg grabbed her hand. “I don’t know how…”
“You’ll learn. My mom didn’t know how once either, but she learned. By the way, formula is in the fridge, bottles in the sterilizer, diapers in the dresser. If anything — there are plenty of articles online about baby care.”
“Anna, I realize I was wrong…”
“Realizing isn’t enough, Oleg. You need to feel it.”
She left, leaving her husband alone with their little son.
The very first two hours showed Oleg that he had no idea what his wife and mother-in-law dealt with daily. Timofey cried, refused the bottle, and when he finally ate, he immediately vomited. While Oleg changed his son, he managed to pee on Oleg’s shirt.
By evening, the apartment looked like after an earthquake. Oleg tried to cook something simple, but Timofey started crying again in the process, so he had to drop everything and run to him.
He called his mother:
“Mom, can you come? Anna went to a friend’s, and I can’t handle Timofey.”
“Son, tonight is the finale of ‘Red Bracelet,’ I’m so worried about Irina. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Mom, I need help now. The baby’s crying, I don’t know what to do.”
“Where’s Galina Petrovna?”
“At the sanatorium.”
“See, she left the grandson and went off to have fun. And you said she was so caring.”
Oleg wanted to argue, but Timofey cried louder than before.
“Mom, will you come?”
“Olezhek, I’m old, it’s hard for me with little children. Ask the neighbor.”
Oleg hung up and realized he was left alone with his problems.
The night was a nightmare. Timofey woke up every hour, and each time it took Oleg at least half an hour to calm him. By morning, he felt like a squeezed lemon.
The second day was even worse. By evening, Oleg ran out of clean diapers, formula, and energy. He sat on the floor next to the crying son, ready to cry himself.
At that moment, the door opened, and Anna came in.
“How’s it going?” she asked, looking at the mess in the apartment.
“Oleg, forgive me,” he got up from the floor and approached her. “I’m a complete idiot. I didn’t understand how hard it is for you and your mom. I thought it was easy — staying home with a baby.”
Anna took Timofey in her arms, and he almost immediately calmed down.
“Now do you understand?”
“I do. Your mom is a saint. She deserves not only this voucher but much more. And I was selfish.”
“Oleg, I don’t want you to feel guilty. I want you to understand the value of what my mom does for us. And for both of us to appreciate it.”
“I’ll call my mom and tell her what a selfish person she is.”
“Don’t. Just next time she says she’s tired of soap operas, suggest she spend a day with her grandson. Maybe she’ll understand the difference between emotional exhaustion from TV and physical exhaustion from taking care of an infant.”
Oleg hugged his wife.
“When will Galina Petrovna return from the sanatorium?”
“Only by the end of the week.”
“My God, how will we last that long?”
Anna laughed.
“Just like she’s managed her whole life. We’ll help each other and not put everything on one person.”
“No more stupid ideas about vouchers.”
“And no more stupid ideas about vouchers.”
Oleg looked at Timofey sleeping in his grandmother’s arms.
“You know, he really does look like your dad. Galina Petrovna is right.”
“He does,” Anna agreed. “And I hope he grows up to be a worthy person, someone who values people by their deeds, not by pretty words.”
In the evening, as they put Timofey to bed, Oleg said:
“You know what I thought? When Galina Petrovna returns, we’ll throw her a real celebration. She deserves it.”
“We will,” Anna smiled. “And I also think we need to have a serious talk with your mom about what it means to be a grandmother.”
“We will. But first, I have to become a better father and husband myself.”
“You’re already becoming one,” Anna kissed him on the cheek. “Already becoming.”
Outside, night was slowly falling, but for the first time in many days, peace and understanding reigned in their home. And somewhere in the sanatorium, Galina Petrovna was finally sleeping soundly, knowing she earned this rest through honest work and endless love for her family.
