They fought a lot, and soon after, they got divorced. Mom moved on quickly. She remarried almost instantly, but then her new husband died. After her husband’s death, Mom had nowhere to go. She asked to move in with my family. Reluctantly, I said yes. It was a mistake. She acted like she owned the place.

She offered to babysit the kids but only watched them twice a week for half a day. And even then, she neglected them. One time, she didn’t change my baby’s diaper for hours. It was the last straw. I asked her to leave.

That’s when Amy got involved. She started calling me, shaming me for kicking Mom out.

“How could you do that to Mom?” Amy yelled over the phone. “You’re a terrible daughter!”

“Me? What about you, Amy? You said you had no space for her, remember?” I shot back.

Amy’s voice was sharp. “That’s different! I don’t have room. You do!”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So, it’s okay for me to take her in, but not you? That’s hypocritical, Amy.”

“You’re being selfish!” she cried. “She’s our mother! We owe her.”

“Owe her? For what? Neglecting us? Kicking me out? Ruining Dad’s life? She had her chance to be a good mom, and she blew it.”

“You can’t just abandon her! This is cruel!”

I took a deep breath. “She made her bed, Amy. Now she has to lie in it. If you’re so worried, you take her.”

Amy was silent for a moment. “You can’t do this. I don’t have space.”

“Figure it out, Amy. Just like I had to.”

Two days later, I called Amy again. “Mom’s moving in with you.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Amy shouted. “You can’t just dump her on me!”

“Oh, so now space is an issue?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “When it’s me, I’m supposed to accommodate her, but you can’t?”

Amy was furious. “You’re ruining everything!”

“No, I’m setting boundaries. If you can’t understand that, it’s your problem.”

The next day, I packed Mom’s bags and drove her to Amy’s house. Amy was waiting at the door, looking like she’d seen a ghost.

“She’s all yours,” I said, handing over the bags.

“This isn’t fair,” Amy said, her voice shaking.

“Welcome to my world,” I replied. “Maybe now you’ll see why I couldn’t take it anymore.”

As I drove away, I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew Amy was in for a tough time, but it was about time she faced reality. For the first time in years, I felt a sense of peace. I hoped it would last.

Two days after Mom moved in with Amy, my phone rang. I could tell from the caller ID it was Amy, and I knew she wasn’t calling to chat. I picked up, bracing myself for the onslaught.

“She’s driving me crazy!” Amy shouted before I could even say hello. “Mom’s been here two days, and it’s a nightmare.”

“Well, that’s how I’ve been living,” I replied calmly.

“You don’t understand,” Amy continued, her voice shaking. “She refuses to do anything. She sits on the couch all day, watching TV. She won’t even make herself a sandwich.”

“I understand perfectly,” I said. “I lived it, remember?”

Amy sighed, frustration clear in her voice. “I can’t take it. She’s so demanding. She acts like I owe her everything.”

“That’s what I’ve been dealing with for years,” I replied. “Now you see why I asked her to leave.”

Amy was silent for a moment. “I thought you were exaggerating,” she admitted. “But it’s worse than I imagined.”

“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” I said. “But I had to set boundaries for my family’s sake.”

After hanging up, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. The house was quieter, more peaceful. My kids seemed happier, too. They weren’t on edge, waiting for the next outburst from their grandmother.

“Mama, can we play a game?” my youngest asked, smiling up at me.

“Of course, sweetie,” I replied, feeling lighter than I had in years.

The days passed, and the peace in my home grew. Without Mom’s negative energy, our household felt warmer and more connected. My husband and I had more time for each other, and the kids were thriving.

One evening, as I was preparing dinner, my phone rang again. It was Amy.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice calmer but still strained.

“Okay, what’s on your mind?” I asked.

“Mom is making my life hell,” she said bluntly. “But I think I understand why you did what you did.”

I paused, letting her words sink in. “Go on.”

“I thought you were being cruel, but now I see you were trying to protect your family,” she admitted. “I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s about setting boundaries,” I said gently. “Mom never learned how to be a proper parent. She expects us to cater to her because that’s all she knows.”

“But how do I deal with her?” Amy asked, desperation creeping back into her voice.

“You have to be firm,” I advised. “Explain what you can and can’t do for her. It won’t be easy, but it’s necessary.”

Amy sighed. “I guess I never realized how much you were dealing with.”

“It was a lot,” I agreed. “But it taught me the importance of putting my immediate family first.”

There was a long pause on the line. “I’m sorry I judged you,” Amy finally said. “I was wrong.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “I’m glad you understand now.”

As I hung up, I reflected on how much things had changed. Growing up, I felt neglected and alone, bearing the brunt of Mom’s indifference. But now, I had a chance to create a different environment for my own kids. Setting boundaries with Mom was hard, but it was the right decision.

Amy and I had a lot to work through, but I hoped this experience would bring us closer. She finally saw things from my perspective, and that was a start.

In the end, it wasn’t about abandoning our mother. It was about recognizing our own needs and taking steps to protect our well-being. Childhood neglect had shaped us, but it doesn’t have to define our futures.

As I tucked my kids into bed that night, I felt a sense of calm and clarity. Family responsibility meant many things, but most importantly, it meant ensuring a loving and supportive environment for my children. And that was something worth fighting for.