The refrigerator turned out to be empty. Vera Stepanovna sighed wearily and reached for her wallet. She’d have to go to the store again. Spend her pension on groceries for the whole family again.
“Mom, you’re retired. It’s not hard for you,” Lena said as she got ready for a meeting. Despite having a four-month-old baby, she had already started working remotely as a real estate agent and occasionally went out for important showings. “I need to keep my position at the agency. If I drop out for long, all the good listings will go to other specialists, and I’ll be pushed to the sidelines.”
She lived with her grandchildren—until she realized she’d become a nanny with no pay and no days off.
I stood with a pot in my hands and the stroller by the door, forced to live by someone else’s schedule. My strength and money were never enough for everything that was expected of me.
Every morning, sixty-three-year-old Vera Stepanovna, a former math teacher, woke up at five. Not because she wanted to, but because that’s when the younger grandson started crying. The apartment might have had three rooms, but sound carried through all of them. She lay listening to the crying and waited for Lena or Misha to get up with the baby. Minutes passed, but there wasn’t a sound from their bedroom.
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“Did they not wake up? Or are they pretending?” thought Vera Stepanovna, groping for her slippers. The wooden floor was cool. May had turned out unusually cold that year. Without turning on the light, she went to the nursery. Four-month-old Kostya was lying in the crib, his face reddened from crying. Nine-year-old Anya slept in the neighboring bed, pulling the blanket over her head and clamping her ears with the pillow.
“There now, little one,” whispered Vera Stepanovna, picking her grandson up. “Grandma’s here.” The baby quieted, burying his face in her shoulder. He smelled of baby cream and milk. Vera Stepanovna carefully adjusted his pajamas, trying not to wake him again.
When Lena called with the suggestion to move in with them, Vera Stepanovna agreed almost at once.
“Mom, we’re having a second child. Misha’s been offered a new position at the clinic, the salary is good, but the schedule is tough. I also plan to work part-time remotely as a realtor. And your apartment is small anyway—why pay utilities? Move in with us, help with the kids; everyone will win.”
Vera Stepanovna’s own one-room apartment, bought after selling the old two-room place and splitting the proceeds with her ex-husband ten years ago, really was small. But it was hers. There she could read late if she couldn’t sleep. Watch old movies. Invite friends over for tea with cherry pie. Lena suggested renting the apartment out—an extra income wouldn’t hurt. Vera Stepanovna agreed, though the idea of renting it out scared her.
“Lena really will need help with the baby. And Anya misses me,” she thought, packing her things into suitcases.
The first weeks were pleasant. Lena gratefully accepted her help. Misha, her daughter’s husband, went to the store for groceries and praised her cooking skills. Vera Stepanovna met Anya after school while keeping the three-room apartment spotless.
But with each passing day, the list of duties grew. At first it was almost unnoticeable. Lena began staying out late—“important meetings with clients.” Misha signed up for a gym—“for my health; the new job requires good physical shape.” And then the parents’ weekends began—and endless responsibilities for Grandma.
By six in the morning, Vera Stepanovna had already fed the baby formula, changed him and put him back down, brewed herself tea, and made breakfast for everyone. Porridge with berries, sandwiches with cheese and herbs—just the way Anya liked it.
At six-thirty, a sleepy Lena appeared in the hallway.
“Mom, make the coffee stronger,” she asked, examining her reflection in the mirror. “And can you pick up Anya a little early today? I have a video conference with potential buyers for a three-room, and then I need to go show an apartment in a new development. Very promising clients.”
“Of course,” Vera Stepanovna answered automatically, though she had planned to go to her own apartment today—to check that everything was okay with the tenants.
“And could you make some soup for lunch?” Lena smiled as if it were a request for a candy, not for two hours at the stove.
“Alright.”
“You’re the best! What would we do without you!”
It was a question Vera Stepanovna often asked herself. What would they do? Hire a nanny? Organize their schedules differently? Learn to live on their own money instead of her extra “grandma” contributions?
When she moved her things into the small room that used to be Misha’s study, she thought she would become part of the family. But with each day she felt more clearly that she had become a servant. Unpaid, around the clock, and ever compliant. Her “no” wasn’t taken seriously.
When she once said she wanted to visit a friend in the hospital, Lena raised her eyebrows in surprise:
“Mom, but Misha has a corporate event, and I promised to stop by the salon. You’re not going to leave the kids alone, are you?”
After that, Vera Stepanovna stopped sharing her plans.
Days blurred into one another. Her pension went to groceries and medicine for the whole family. The money from renting out the apartment mysteriously dissolved into the family budget. “Mom, I paid for daycare. And we need money for groceries—can you give me some?” or “Mom, a loan payment was debited from my card; I’ll pay you back later, okay?” That “later” never came.
“Grandma, I don’t want porridge,” Anya whined, poking her spoon in the bowl. “Can I have cereal with milk?”
“But Anya, porridge is healthier…”
“All kids eat cereal! You’re the only one who makes me this gross stuff!” The girl pushed the bowl away, and part of the porridge sloshed onto the tablecloth.
“Anya!” said Vera Stepanovna sternly. “You can’t behave like that.”
“I don’t care! You’re not my mom to boss me around!”
Lena, who was putting on mascara at the mirror, didn’t even turn around.
“Mom, just give her the cereal. Why are you being so hard-nosed?”
Silently, Vera Stepanovna stood up, opened the cupboard, and took out a box of cereal. Something trembled inside her, like an echo of old memories.
“I ironed Misha’s shirt,” she said quietly.
“Great,” Lena snapped the mascara closed and tossed it into her bag. “By the way, Misha and I want to go to Sergey’s dacha this weekend. They’re having a barbecue—it’s spring, after all. You’ll stay with the kids, right?”
It wasn’t even a question. A statement that needed no answer.
But something had changed. Maybe it was Lena’s tone—too confident, careless. Maybe it was Anya’s flung-off phrase. Or maybe it was the accumulated fatigue of the last few months, when her own life had turned into servicing someone else’s.
“No,” said Vera Stepanovna.
“What?” Lena turned, blinking in surprise.
“I said—no. I have other plans for the weekend.”
“What plans?” her daughter’s voice held undisguised irritation. “Mom, you can’t do this to us. We were counting on you…”
“Counting on what, Lena?” Vera Stepanovna felt her hands tremble, but her voice remained steady. “On me sitting with the kids forever, cooking, cleaning, spending my pension on your family? With no days off, no gratitude, no right to my own time?”
“What’s gotten into you?” Lena put her hands on her hips. “You live in our apartment for free, we eat together…”
“For free?” Vera Stepanovna gave a joyless smile. “I give you the money from the apartment I rent out. I spend my pension on groceries for everyone. I work as a nanny, cook, and cleaner without a single day off. What part of that is free, Lena?”
Anya froze with her spoon in the air, eyes wide. She had never seen her grandmother like this.
“Mom, you’re retired. It’s not hard for you. And we need to work, build our careers. It’s normal for the older generation to help the younger.”
“To help, Lena. Not to replace them. Not to become free help.” Vera Stepanovna straightened her back. “I’m a person too. I have my own wants, my own plans, and my strength isn’t limitless.”
“So what are you suggesting?” Now there was concern in her daughter’s voice. “Leave? Go back to your little hole? Leave us without help?”
“I’m suggesting we treat each other with consideration,” replied Vera Stepanovna. “If you want me to stay, then let’s set rules. My days off are untouchable. My personal money is my money. And I’m not a housekeeper, Lena. I’m a grandmother who wants to be part of the family, not a convenient attachment.”
A pause hung in the air. Even little Kostya in his crib seemed to quiet down.
“We need to discuss this with Misha,” Lena said at last, glancing at the time. “I’m late. We’ll talk tonight.”
She grabbed her bag and ran out, slamming the door.
Slowly, Vera Stepanovna sank into a chair. She breathed deeply, trying to calm down. She looked at her granddaughter, expecting to see hurt or annoyance. But Anya was looking at her with a new expression. Almost with respect.
“Grandma,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry about the porridge. It’s good, really.”
Vera Stepanovna smiled and stroked her granddaughter’s head. “It’s alright, little one. It happens.”
Evening came faster than she wanted. Vera Stepanovna put Kostya to bed, checked Anya’s homework, and waited for her daughter and son-in-law to return, turning over the morning conversation in her mind. Had she been too blunt? Should she have kept quiet once more, as she had for months? But something told her that a little more of this life—and she would lose herself completely.
When the key turned in the lock, Vera Stepanovna smoothed her blouse and sat up straight in the chair. In the hall she heard Lena’s and Misha’s voices.
“Mom, you’re still up?” Lena peeked into the room. Behind her loomed Misha, unusually serious.
“No, I’ve been waiting for you,” said Vera Stepanovna, rising from the chair. “Come in, let’s talk.”
They sat at the kitchen table—the three of them, like at negotiations. Misha cleared his throat.
“Vera Stepanovna, Lena told me about your conversation this morning,” he began. “We thought everything suited everyone.”
“You didn’t ask,” she replied quietly. “And I didn’t say. That’s my fault too.”
“What do you propose?” Misha asked.
“I propose honesty,” said Vera Stepanovna, squaring her shoulders. “If I stay, it will be on different terms. Two days off a week are mine. I go to my place, meet friends, just rest. The money from renting out the apartment is mine, except for fifteen thousand I can contribute to shared expenses. And most importantly”—she looked at her daughter—“respect for my time and my interests. I am not the help, Lena. I am your mother.”
Misha nodded. “We’ll find a solution. Maybe I can switch to remote work two days a week.”
“And I can help more,” added Lena.
Vera Stepanovna felt the tension that had bound her for months begin to ease.
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s important for me to hear that.”
Two months passed after that conversation. Vera Stepanovna sat on a bench in the park not far from the house, watching Anya scoot along the paths. In the stroller beside her, six-month-old Kostya slept—he’d already turned six months old. It was Sunday—one of her rightful days off—but today she herself had offered to take the children for a walk. Lena and Misha had gone to choose new furniture for the living room—the old set was completely worn out.
Life had changed, though from the outside it might have seemed the same. She still lived with the children, helped with the grandkids, cooked lunches. But now it was her conscious choice, not an imposed obligation. Misha started spending more time with the kids. It turned out he made excellent pancakes and could read fairy tales in different voices. And Lena… Lena was learning to see in her mother not just a convenient addition to the family, but a person with her own wants and needs.
“Grandma, look what I can do!” Anya shouted, circling on her scooter.
“Good job, clever girl!” Vera Stepanovna smiled, picking the right words of praise.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. A message from Lena: “Mom, we bought everything! We’re on our way home. What should we bring for tea?”
Vera Stepanovna smiled and typed her reply: “Nothing. We have everything we need.”
And that was true. Right now, they really did have everything they needed.