Dear Diary,
Its another evening of the same exhausting routine, and I cant help but wonder who this endless stream of errands is really for. I come home from the office in London, hoping to sit down to a proper dinner, unwind a little, and spend some time with Ian. Instead, Im forced to play babysitter for a child who isnt even mine.
Isnt he sort of our nephew? I ask, trying to keep my tone gentle. Natalie shivers and sighs. Honestly, I dont like it any more than you do, she admits. Olivia asked me for a favour she needs her nails done, and she cant take the little one with her.
Ian slouches, unbuttoning his jacket and flinging it onto the chair. He needs to feed his nephew, and thats far easier in his own pyjamas. The odds of ending up with a smear of baby puree on his shirt? Fiftyfifty.
I get it, I say, but you cant keep putting your nails first. Are you the only one she can rely on? Why has our family turned into a sort of makeshift daycare?
Theres Mum, but she cant be here every day, Natalie begins, reaching for the pasta.
You, then, can step in, Ian cuts in. For everyone else, but not for us.
At first his brow twists in annoyance, then he relaxes a little, his expression softening. He knows my frustration isnt directed at him; its the situation. Hes simply indefatigable.
Natalie, if you dont pull her off your back, shell keep hanging on, and youll be the one blamed for it, Ian says. The one who drives the carriage is the one who gets the bumps.
I pretend to be absorbed in chopping vegetables, but inside I know hes right. Im stuck between being a second mother to my nephew and fighting with the rest of the family.
It all began innocently enough.
Natalie, Im feeling under the weather and Sam is with me. I need to pop to the chemist, but I cant leave him alone. Could you help? Olivias voice trembled. Without a second thought, I dropped everything and ran to her aid, not even considering that a delivery service might exist. My sister was illperhaps seriously illso I felt I had to rescue her.
And then rescuing became a habit.
Can you pick up the phone from the repair shop? Olivia calls. Were out of groceries? Im on it again. Your parcels arrived at the collection point. Im sprinting like a personal courier.
I can afford to do this because I work remotely with a flexible schedule, but that doesnt make it comfortable. Olivias house is a fifteenminute walk away; the roundtrip, plus the time spent shopping, queuing, and the little errands in between, adds up to at least an hour.
These days I mostly work evenings and sometimes nights, when no one is pulling me in different directions. Ian isnt thrilled about it, and honestly, neither am I. I tried to talk to my sister.
Olivia, whats going on with Peter? Doesnt he ever pitch in? I ask, handing over another parcel from the courier.
He does, but hes exhausted after work. If he can sit with Sam while I dash to the shower, thats all I can ask.
Olivia shields her husband, but never thinks about anyone elsenot even her own mother. I pause, listening to her vent.
Your mum lives just around the corner, doesnt she? I probe.
Dont even mention her! Olivia snaps, rolling her eyes. I dont want any of that drama. Shes a walking advice column, always meddling. Id rather starve than ask her for anything.
Is there really no one else? Look, Oksana also has a toddler, about the same age as yours. Maybe you could swap watches, or ask Christinashes not working.
It feels wrong to drag other people into this, Olivia admits. Theyre not obliged.
Of course its easy to lean on your own family, I mutter under my breath.
After that, I decided to try saying no. Even before Ian hinted at it, I sensed it wasnt right.
The opportunity came fast. The next day Olivia called, announcing shed booked a nail appointment.
Natalie, come over and look after Sam. Ill be gone for just an hour.
Her tone was more command than request. She wasnt asking; she was stating a fact. It infuriated me. Why should I reshuffle my whole day for her beauty ritual?
No, Olivia. I cant today. Sorry.
What do you mean you cant?
I cant solve every problem for you. I have a life of my own.
I understand, but what am I supposed to do? Ive already booked it, I cant let the salon down. Youre the only one I have.
You never consulted me before booking. Im not your errandgirl or a nanny. Deal with it yourself.
Fine, she snapped after a pause. Its easy for you to say thatyou dont have kids. You dont know how hard it is.
She knew, of course, that my nephew was becoming like my own son. I kept quiet; conflict isnt my style, and even this refusal felt like a small victory.
Olivia didnt give up. She roped in Mum.
Natalie, how can you be so cruel? Youre my sister, we have a little one, and you turn her away! Shes all we have!
Mum, when she asked me to pick up medicine I went because she was really sick. But now she calls me every other day for trivial things today she wants a manicure! Does it really have to be that urgent?
She wants to look nice. Put yourself in her shoes.
I raised an eyebrow. No one had ever truly stood in my shoes.
Mum, if youre so clever, why not help her yourself?
Me? she laughed. I can barely get around the house! Youre the one who should step up.
Young, childless, always at homethe same chorus I hear daily. It wore me down. That day I finally stopped helping.
Both Mum and Olivia gave me the silent treatment for a whole week, acting as if I didnt exist. Anyone else might have taken a breath of relief, but I felt lost, wondering how to mend things.
When Olivia called a week later, pleading for me to watch Sam while she got her nails, I gave in. I hated myself for it, but I slipped back into the freeofcharge nanny role. It seemed there were only two options: be the black sheep of my own family or endure it.
Natalie, youre too soft, you keep letting things slide, Ian said after hearing the story. You need to set boundaries, otherwise shell never learn to stand on her own.
I sighed and nodded. Late at night I mulled over how to refuse without making herself a target.
The phone rang predictably the next day.
Natalie, I cant do this any longer. The little one has a fever, he’s crying all morning, and Im running around like a hamster! I cant even sit down, let alone use the bathroom. Come over, well manage together.
I cant. Work wont let me. We have monitoring software on our computers now, even lunch breaks are timed. Its like being in an office.
Silence stretched over the line. Olivia was hunting for a weak spot.
Please, just once, the last time! Ask someone else to cover you, take a day off.
She didnt get it. I simply had no choice. I pretended to concede.
Fine Ill figure something out.
I hung up and messaged Peter for Mums number, explaining that his wife urgently needed help. Peter didnt refuse, and Mum, surprised, agreed to pop over.
I could even tell exactly when Mum arrived because Olivia bombarded me with texts.
Are you out of your mind?! Youve sent her onto me!
You needed help. I asked her, thats all.
Olivia read the messages but stayed silent. In that moment I felt a tiny triumph. Not a war, but a small battle won. Yes, Olivia will be upset. Yes, Mum will probably grumble again. But now my sister will have to cope on her own or learn to lean on those who actually want to help.
