“‘You must watch the kids!’ — a new duty imposed by the mother-in-law
‘Where are you?! I’m standing at your door with the kids! Mom said you’re obligated to let us in!’
‘We’ve left,’ Yegor replied curtly. ‘We’ll be out of town for a whole week.’
‘How could you?!’ Kristina squealed. ‘Mom’s blood pressure is up, she can’t watch the kids! You’re obligated to come back!’
Yulia used to think she was lucky with her husband and his family. Her mother-in-law, Lyudmila Ivanovna, seemed like a kind woman who loved family get-togethers, and Kristina—a typical caring single mom. But everything changed when Yulia once showed some care toward her sister-in-law’s children. That became the start of her “career” as the Sunday nanny.
Yulia was kind, welcoming, always ready to help. But with each Sunday the situation grew more intrusive. At first she just helped keep the kids entertained at the table, then they’d be left for a couple of hours, and then… for the whole day.
One day, when Yulia and Yegor were planning a rare movie date, things spun out of control. Lyudmila Ivanovna called Yegor and demanded that he come over and watch the kids because Kristina was leaving. All of her son’s objections were ignored, and his opinion once again didn’t matter.
‘We’ll come in the morning, but at five in the evening we’re leaving,’ Yulia said firmly. ‘This is the last time.’
Continuation: The conversation that changed everything
On Sunday, as agreed, Yulia and Yegor came. The kids were fussy, tired, demanding attention. Yulia managed—she put on a cartoon, pulled out modeling clay, and set up a little workshop. Yegor tried to help, but it was clear he simply didn’t know how to interact with children—especially ones as emotional as Dasha and Nikita.
At five o’clock they got ready to leave. Washing the clay off her hands, Yulia went over to her mother-in-law.
‘We’re leaving. We already bought the movie tickets.’
‘What?’ Lyudmila Ivanovna snapped. ‘But I was counting on you staying till night! I’m exhausted! My blood pressure!’
‘And we have a personal life,’ Yulia said coolly. ‘We’ve already helped. Goodbye.’
They left. On the way to the cinema, Yulia was silent, squeezing her husband’s hand. Only after the show, sitting in a café, did she speak.
‘Yegor… We need to talk.’
‘I’m listening,’ he answered seriously.
‘This can’t go on. You have to set boundaries. We’re not free babysitters. I understand Kristina is your sister, but she’s an adult woman. She has her own children—let her take responsibility. And your mother… She shifts everything onto us and only gives orders.’
‘I understand,’ Yegor sighed bitterly. ‘But how do I tell her?’
‘Start by at least trying. And if that doesn’t work… we’ll consider other options.’
⸻
A week of change
Yulia didn’t bring the topic up again. But on Tuesday Kristina texted Yegor:
“Hi! You’re home this weekend, right? I’ll drop the kids off from morning till evening. Mom’s complaining again that she’s tired.”
Yegor looked at the screen and felt his chest tighten. He remembered how Yulia had silently carried the entire Sunday on her shoulders. How she cooked, cleaned, invented games—all the while smiling, though there was fatigue in her eyes.
He took a deep breath and replied:
“No. We can’t. We have our own plans.”
Kristina’s response came instantly:
“What do you mean YOU CAN’T?! Mom’s blood pressure is up, I need to leave! You’re obligated!”
Yegor exhaled. He took off his glasses, stood up from the table, and dialed his mother’s number.
‘Mom, we need to talk.’
‘I’m listening,’ Lyudmila Ivanovna’s voice was stern.
‘We can’t watch Kristina’s kids every weekend anymore. That’s not our duty. We’ll help when we can, but from now on—only by prior arrangement.’
‘Are you out of your mind?! She’s your sister! She has two children!’
‘And we have our own family,’ Yegor said firmly. ‘And if we don’t set boundaries now, Yulia will leave. I don’t want to lose her.’
‘Oh, I see! So you’re choosing that… some outsider over your own mother and sister?’
‘I’m choosing my wife. And myself. Goodbye, Mom.’
He hung up. His heart was pounding, his palms were sweaty. But for the first time in a long while, he felt he’d done the right thing.
⸻
The counterstrike
The next day Yulia received a message. From an unknown number:
“You are destroying our family. Without help you won’t manage when you have kids. Remember that.”
She read the message, sighed, and showed it to Yegor. He turned pale.
‘Is it her?’
‘Yes,’ Yulia nodded. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Live. Our own life.’
He hugged her.
Meanwhile, Kristina was melting down. She called their mother nonstop, complained that “her brother betrayed her,” wrote to friends and blamed Yulia for “destroying the family.” But whatever she did, the situation didn’t change.
The following week the mother-in-law invited Yulia to talk. Yulia went—alone.
‘Sit down,’ said Lyudmila Ivanovna, frowning. ‘I need to understand. Why are you so against helping with the children?’
‘I’m not against helping. I’m against obligation. I’m against being forced.’
‘But it’s hard for Kristina…’
‘And what about me? And Yegor? It’s not our fault her husband ran off. But we shouldn’t have to put her interests above our own.’
The mother-in-law was silent. Then she slowly stood, walked to the window.
‘You’re strong. I can see that. But stubborn, too. All right… Here’s how it’ll be. If you can help—say so. If not—I won’t interfere.’
Yulia was surprised.
‘Are you serious?’
‘I’m not your enemy. I’m just used to giving orders. But you… you’re not like that. And Yegor stood up to us for your sake. Means I missed something before.’
Yulia nodded. She didn’t want victories or feuds. Just some peace.
⸻
A new life—without obligations
Three months passed. No one demanded that Yulia be a nanny anymore. Kristina seethed, sometimes sent barbed messages, but no longer counted on unconditional help.
Yulia and Yegor started rebuilding their weekends. Walks in parks, trips out of town, occasional meetups with friends. Everything changed—calmer, warmer.
And then came the news Yulia kept to herself for two days.
‘Yegor,’ she said one evening. ‘I’m late. I bought a test.’
He froze. Came closer. Hugged her. And, without waiting for the result, said:
‘It’s going to be okay. We’ll manage on our own.’
⸻
Epilogue
A year later, in their cozy apartment, Yulia sat in a rocking chair, lulling her baby daughter. Yegor was tidying toys off the table, and a cartoon was playing on TV. A new message flashed on the phone screen from Kristina:
“Can I come over with the kids? By myself. I just want to be with you.”
Yulia looked at the screen. Smiled. Replied:
“Come. Just don’t forget to bring paper—we’ll make jumping frogs.”
A new chapter: A difficult reconciliation
Kristina arrived in the evening. No demands, no “you must” phrases. She simply stepped into the apartment and offered a restrained smile. Yulia noticed how she glanced at the baby in her arms—curious, almost envious. Kristina’s kids, now older, slipped into the room as if by habit and began rummaging through the toys.
‘It’s cozy here,’ Kristina said, taking off her coat. ‘And quiet.’
Yulia nodded. She felt a tension inside, but decided not to start with reproaches.
‘Tea?’
‘Yes, if it’s no trouble…’
They walked to the kitchen in silence. Seeing it was a “women’s talk,” Yegor went to the kids.
‘I’ve been thinking a lot,’ Kristina began. ‘About how it all turned out. Mom and I… well, we piled too much on you.’
Yulia looked up, slowly stirring honey into her tea.
‘You didn’t just pile it on. You turned us into free help.’
‘I know,’ Kristina said quietly. ‘Back then I thought I had no way out. My husband left, I was alone. And you two seemed so stable, calm. It seemed like things were easy for you. And then… I got scared that if you refused, I wouldn’t cope.’
‘But you’re coping, aren’t you?’ Yulia asked gently.
Kristina nodded:
‘I had to. I found a weekend nanny. Not cheap, but I’m at peace. And you know, there’s a kind of freedom in that. I decide when and what. No one gives me dirty looks. And… I started to understand how you felt back then. I’m sorry.’
Yulia smiled. No theatrics, just sincerely.
‘You forgive me, too. For being sharp. I was just protecting my life.’
‘I realized that when I first asked a neighbor to watch the kids. She refused. And it was… unpleasant. But fair.’
They fell silent, then both laughed. And somehow everything felt lighter.
⸻
In the family circle—but differently
A few weeks later, they were gathering together again. But now—not out of coercion, but by choice. Over that time Lyudmila Ivanovna had gotten older. She’d grown gaunter. But she’d also softened. She no longer commanded. She just rejoiced when everyone came.
‘How nice that we’re all together again,’ she said once. ‘And no one’s shouting.’
Yulia smiled and winked at Yegor. He hugged her, holding their daughter close. Kristina sat nearby, chatting with Dasha. Nikita was drawing something on a tablet.
‘Mom, look! It’s a house! Our house!’
‘It’s beautiful, son,’ Kristina smiled. ‘And who lives in it?’
‘We do! All of us! Aunt Yulia and Uncle Yegor, and you, and Grandma, and even the baby!’
Yulia couldn’t resist and kissed the boy on the crown of his head. He smiled and bent back over his drawing.
⸻
A test for the new family
Another six months later, Kristina’s “ex”—Dasha and Nikita’s father—appeared on the horizon. He suddenly decided to “come back,” asserting his rights and proposing to take the kids “for a week to his place.”
Kristina rushed to Yulia—confused, anxious.
‘He won’t manage. I know it. He’s never been alone with them. And now he’s demanding?’
‘You can refuse,’ Yulia said calmly. ‘Or set conditions. You have that right.’
‘I’m afraid he’ll take them and not bring them back. He’s… unpredictable.’
Yegor, sitting nearby, spoke up:
‘Understand, Kristina, you’re not alone now. If needed—Yulia and I will go to court with you. Or to child services. We’ll help you, but on our terms.’
She looked at her brother, then at Yulia. Her eyes filled with tears.
‘I treated you so badly… And you’re still here.’
‘We’re family,’ Yulia said. ‘Only now—without the dictating.’
⸻
Kristina—anew
A year later, Kristina opened a little at-home preschool group. Early-development classes, games, activities—everything she once learned from Yulia she turned into a business. Her home now often rang with children’s laughter, and neighbors brought their little ones.
‘Yulya, you once showed me that with kids you don’t just survive—you can enjoy it,’ she said one day. ‘Thank you.’
Yulia smiled.
‘The important thing is—you’re doing it now without being forced.’
⸻
Yulia—a mother and master of her world
Yulia and Yegor’s daughter grew up cheerful and curious. And, as it turned out, she inherited her mother’s gentleness and her father’s straightforwardness. The house was now full of creativity, calm, and order—thanks to the boundaries they had set.
Yulia never regretted that she once said “no.”
That “no” became a turning point in her life—and made space for love, growth, and a real family.
⸻
Conclusion
Sometimes, to be happy, one simple, honest word is enough: “no.”
No—to other people’s expectations.
No—to manipulation.
No—to imposed obligations.
And “yes”—to yourself. To your life. To your desires. To your family.
A new chapter: Yes—to yourself, and to others
Two years passed. Life flowed peacefully. Yulia and Yegor’s family grew stronger, their daughter got older; there were school shows and the first drawings on the walls. Yulia kept working remotely while running the household and caring for the child. They had a steady rhythm—clear, harmonious, protecting their personal space. Everything would have been perfect if one day Yegor hadn’t come home with news.
‘Kristina is pregnant again,’ he said, taking off his coat.
Yulia raised an eyebrow.
‘Was it what she wanted?’
‘Yes. She has a new man. Seems serious. They want a family.’
‘That’s good… as long as she doesn’t decide we’re once again obligated to help with everything.’
Yegor sighed:
‘I hinted that we’re happy for her, but we have our own concerns. I think she understood.’
Yulia wasn’t sure. Deep down, a worry resurfaced: what if it all starts again?
⸻
A cautious rapprochement
But Kristina had changed. Pregnancy made her softer. She herself started offering help—picking up her niece from kindergarten if Yulia couldn’t make it, or buying groceries when Yulia was ill.
One day Kristina dropped by with a large bag of fresh vegetables.
‘You said your daughter is picky with food. Try these—they’re from a farm. She’ll like them.’
Yulia was surprised, but accepted the help. She’d learned not to shut down.
‘Thank you. Really—how nice of you.’
Kristina sat on the edge of a chair, her hand resting on her rounded belly.
‘You know… I’m scared. What if everything goes wrong again? What if he disappears like the first one?’
Yulia sat down beside her.
‘Even if he does—you’re different now. You’ll manage. You’re no longer that lost girl who dumped the kids on family. You’re an adult. A mother. Strong.’
Kristina teared up.
‘Do you know who taught me that strength?’
Yulia smirked:
‘I hope—me?’
‘Yes. You. When you said “no” once. I was angry then, and later… I realized I needed to be the same way.’
⸻
The birth of new life
In spring a baby boy was born—Artyom. Yulia first saw him when she brought flowers and broth to the maternity ward. Kristina lay by the window, tired but glowing.
‘Who does he look like?’ she asked, passing the baby over.
Yulia carefully took the infant in her arms. He was tiny, warm, smelling of milk and something else—something very dear.
‘Like you. Like the you that has finally been found.’
Kristina cried. Not hysterically. Just in a womanly, genuine way.
—
A big family—but in a new way
In the fall there was a big family dinner. No formalities and no “you must.” Just—because they wanted to. At the long table sat Lyudmila Ivanovna, smirking as she listened to Nikita’s school jokes; Kristina with the baby at her breast; Yulia and Yegor holding their growing daughter’s hand. Quiet conversations flowed. No shouting. No pressure. No grudges.
Yulia stood and raised a toast:
‘To the ability to hear each other. To the fact that sometimes “no” is also love. Because “no” gives a chance to grow. And to become a real family.’
They drank—a bit of wine for some, juice or tea for others.
Lyudmila Ivanovna grunted:
‘I never would’ve thought my son would ever tell me “no.” But now I’m glad. Because he has a real woman by his side.’
Yulia didn’t blush. She just smiled.
⸻
Epilogue: “Where are you?!”—will never be heard again
No one stood at her door anymore shouting, ‘You have to!’
Now, if someone knocked—it was a sign not of demand, but of trust.
If they called—it wasn’t with an order, but with care.
If they stayed with the children—it was out of love.
Yulia learned to protect what was hers. And in doing so, she taught others to protect themselves.
And it wasn’t about conflict. It was about respect.
About growing up.
About the right to live by your own rules—not rejecting your loved ones, but inviting them to be near…
As equals.”
