— Our boy was born deaf? Leave him at the hospital, I’m not ready to nurture such a child!” — my wife’s voice rang with a fury I had never noticed before.
“— Olga, what are you saying? This is flesh of our flesh,” — I looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.
The doctor put his hand on my shoulder: “Congenital deafness, complete. Unfortunately, there’s no chance of recovery.”
In these sounds, which my son would never hear, reality was terrible.
“— You don’t understand, Sasha,” — Olga said.
“This is a sentence for us for life. Special conditions… We’ll just destroy ourselves. When will we live?”
I shifted my gaze to the tiny bundle. A small, wrinkled face, gently pink and peaceful.
“— I’m taking him home,” — I said quietly but firmly. “— What?” “— I said I’m taking the baby. Alone.”
“— Are you out of your mind? You’re working part-time as an electrician! How are you going to raise such a baby?” “— Exactly the same as any other. Day by day.”
In the morning, I found that Olga had abondoned, leaving a note with two lines: “Sorry. I can’t control it.”
Five years of life together were only four words on a torn notebook page.
A week later, I delivered my son to my home.
“— And how are you going to manage alone?” — our neighbor Marina Petrovna called out from behind the fence as I approached the house. “— No idea,” — I answered honestly. “— But there’s no choice.”
The first months transformed into an endless survival race. I learned to alter diapers with one hand while working part-time job.
The village commented: “Poor guy,” “He shouldn’t have let his wife go,” “It’s not a man’s job to suffer from diapers.”
I realized a simple truth: my son didn’t know he was missing anything. To him, the world had always been peaceful. But that didn’t make him imperfect. In his world, there were just unsimilar rules.
Every day, we learned a new language. Seeing my sleeping son in his crib, I often thought: “How can anyone reject their own child just because he’s not like everyone else?”
Fortunately, I had recently received a house from my parents and sold it, so I had enough money for living expenses, and I could only work in my free time when the neighbors could watch the baby.
Thus, we began a new life.
After 5 years, Denis grew into a smart, smiled boy with unruly brown curls.
Our house was full of a language without sounds — a language of images and touches. I mastered the sign language for objects, actions, and feelings. My son also learned.
At night, when Denis fell asleep, I would call the representative of schools to register for study.
“— Alexander, you understand that our school is not equipped to teach a child like yours?” — the principal, Nadezhda Igorevna, said softly but firmly. “— Specialists are needed, special methods…”
“— What if I accompany him to classes? Translate everything the teachers say?”
“— And when will you work?” — she sighed. “— Sasha, understand, he needs a boarding school for the hearing impaired in the city.”
The solution came unpredictedly with the arrival of a new teacher.
Anna Sergeevna transferred to our village school from the city. I met her for the first time in our local store, where she was unsuccessfully trying to explain to Nina Fyodorovna that she was prepare for the local press.
“— We don’t have any newspapers,” — I intervened. “— But there’s Zinaida Petrovna. She delivers the mail and also collects and expands all the gossip. A walking newspaper, you could say.”
Anna laughed said:
“— Thanks for the tip,” — she extended her hand. “— I’m Anna, the new elementary school teacher.”
“— My son says you have a beautiful smile,” — I translated.
“— You understand sign language?” — she quickly questioned.
“— Yes,” — Denis responded with gestures. “— Dad taught me.”
To my surprise, Denis already understand a lot — he had learned to read some words by lip-reading and had taught himself the basics of math.
“— And an incredible attention to detail. He can’t hear, but he notices what others miss.”
One evening, when Denis was already in the middle of the tenth dream, we sat on the veranda.
“— You know,” — Anna said quietly, “— I’ve never met a father like you.”
“— What kind of father?”
“— A real one. The kind who doesn’t take the easy path.”
Six months later, their marriage came true.
No fanfare, no noise, just the closest ones. Denis carried the pillow with the rings, beaming with pride over the task entrusted to him.
And then, six months later, a little miracle occured in our life.
Anna brought back from a trip to the city an experimental hearing aid she got through old connections.
“— It won’t improve full hearing,” — she concerned, “— but it may help distinguish very loud sounds.”
We installed the device, not expecting much. Anna picked up a bell and rang it right next to Denis’s ear.
My son’s face transformed — his eyes widened, his lips parted in amazement.
“— I felt something! What was that?”
And over time, Denis called Anna “Mom” for the first time.
“— Tell me about my real mom,” — Denis’s gestures were confident.
I knew this question was undeniable. But it still caught me off guard.
“— Why now?” — my hands moved slower than usual.
“— I want to know everything that’s left in the past before moving forward,” — Denis smiled.
“I’ve been offered a job,” — Denis smiled. “— At an IT company. Remote development. They liked my contest project.”
Despite deafness, he developed an amazing ability to see patterns in code that others missed.
“— Congratulations, son!” — I hugged him. “
“— A new stage is coming,”
“— I want to settle everything that’s left in the past before moving forward.”
When the doctors shared her about your deafness, she broke down.
She was scared she wouldn’t deal with, scared of the life that awaited us.
“— She wanted to leave me at the hospital?” — Denis said.
“— Yes,” — I admitted. “— She said she couldn’t nurture a special child.”
“— Did you ever tell her about me? Did you try to find her?”
“— No,” — I mutted. “— She left for good. I heard she got married in the city, had more kids. I didn’t seek out a meeting. I thought — if she wants, she’ll find me.”
“— Do you regret it?” — His gaze was piercing. “— Staying with me alone?”
I smiled:
“— Not a single day, son. Not a single minute.”
“— What’s this serious conversation about?” — her hands fluttered in the air, creating words.
“— The past,” — Denis answered, then turned to me. “— I forgive her, Dad. But I don’t want to meet her. My real mom is here,” — he threw a warm glance at Anna.
“— He’s grown into an amazing person,” — she said, resting her head on my shoulder.
“— Thanks to you,” — I kissed her on the temple.
“— No,” — she shook her head. “— Thanks to your decision.”
So we sat together under the evening sky — not a perfect family, but a true one. She left because she couldn’t deal with my health. And we stayed. And became a family.
My neighbor frequently asked me to babysit her child, but when I asked her to watch mine just once, she declined — so I came up with a creative solution
My entitled neighbor expected free babysitting for months, but the one time I needed her? Radio silence. That’s when I realized kindness has limits. So, I got a little too creative and drew the line with a twist she never saw coming.
Motherhood is a beautiful journey, filled with ups and downs, laughter and tears. But what happens when someone sees your maternal instincts as an opportunity to exploit? When they assume that just because you’re a stay-at-home mom, you’re available 24/7 to be their personal, unpaid nanny? Hi there, I’m Annie, and boy, do I have a story for you…
Picture this: a quaint suburban neighborhood where tranquility reigns supreme. You know the kind? Pristine lawns, friendly waves from passing cars, and block parties that wrap up by 9 p.m. sharp.
That was my slice of paradise, quiet and drama-free. Until Hurricane Megan blew in next door.
From day one, Megan strutted around like she owned the place. Head held high, designer purse swinging, she was the walking definition of “extra.”
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing but respect for single moms. It’s a tough gig. But Megan? She wore her single mom status like a badge that entitled her to everyone’s time and energy. Especially mine.
Apparently, I was Megan’s personal target for FREE childcare.
“Hi there! I’m Megan,” she chirped, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And this is my daughter, Lily.”
I bounced my son Tommy perched on my shoulder. “Nice to meet you! I’m Annie, and this little guy is Tommy.”
Megan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you’re home during the day? That’s fantastic! I’ve been looking for someone reliable to watch Lily. My work schedule is just crazy, you know!”
I felt a twinge of unease but pushed it aside. “Well, I’m usually pretty busy with Tommy, but if you need help in an emergency, I can try.”
Megan’s smile widened. “That’s so sweet of you! I’m sure we’ll be great friends.”
As she left little Lily with me and walked away, I turned to Tommy. “Well, buddy, looks like we’ve got new neighbors. What do you think?”
Tommy gurgled and reached for my hair. If only I’d known what I was getting myself into.
Weeks rolled by and I was at my wit’s end. Megan’s “emergencies” had become a near-daily occurrence.
Despite my growing unease, I brushed it off. We moms gotta stick together, right? But one favor turned into two, then ten, and then I lost count.
The doorbell rang, and I groaned. “Tommy, want to bet who that is?”
I opened the door to find Megan, perfectly coiffed, with Lily in tow. “Annie, you’re a lifesaver! I’ve got this important meeting. You can watch Lily, right?”
I hesitated. “Megan, I’ve got a lot on my plate today and I can’t—”
“It’ll just be a few hours,” she interrupted, already ushering Lily inside. “You’re the best!”
Before I could protest, she was gone, leaving me with two kids and a growing sense of frustration.
Lily looked up at me with big eyes, holding a drawing of red and pink hearts. “Can we play dress-up, Annie?”
I sighed, forcing a smile. “Sure, sweetie. Let’s go find some costumes.”
As I watched the kids play, I couldn’t help but wonder how long I could keep this up.
Picture this: You’re knee-deep in diapers and alphabet songs, cherishing every moment with your little one. Then your neighbor knocks on the door again, flashing a smile and making the same monotonous request.
“Oh, Annie, would you be a sweetheart and babysit Lily for a few hours? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind watching her while I get my nails done.”
Spa days, shopping sprees, hair appointments… you name it, I was babysitting through it all. FOR FREE.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love kids. But there’s a fine line between being neighborly and being a doormat. And folks, I was starting to feel like I had “Welcome” printed on my forehead.
The last straw came on a Tuesday. I was in the middle of a virtual doctor’s appointment when Megan burst in, Lily trailing behind her.
“Annie, emergency! I’ve got to run to the salon. Watch Lily, okay?”
I gaped at her, my doctor’s voice still coming through my earbuds. “Megan, I’m in the middle of—”
“Thanks, you’re a doll!” And just like that, she was gone.
I turned back to my screen, where my doctor looked confused. “Everything okay, Annie?”
I laughed humorlessly. “Just peachy. Now, where were we?”
That night, I vented to my husband, Dan. “I can’t believe her! She just assumes I’m always available.”
Dan frowned. “Honey, you need to set some boundaries. This isn’t fair to you or Tommy.”
“You’re right. Next time she asks, I’m putting my foot down.”
Little did I know, my chance would come sooner than expected.
The following week, Dan and I had a doctor’s appointment. I figured it was the perfect opportunity to ask Megan for a favor.
I knocked on her door, my hopes soaring. Megan answered, looking annoyed at the interruption.
“Hey, Megan. I hate to ask, but Dan and I have a doctor’s appointment. Could you watch Tommy for an hour? I’d really appreciate it.”
Megan’s face twisted. “Oh, Annie. I’m really not comfortable watching other people’s kids. It’s just… stressful, you know? And I need my ‘me time.’ You understand, right?”
I stood there, STUNNED. After everything I’d done for her, she couldn’t spare ONE HOUR?
“Sure! I understand completely.”
As I walked away, something inside me snapped. It was time for a little creative problem-solving.
My opportunity came a few days later when Megan knocked on my door, Lily in tow.
“Annie, I’ve got a hair appointment. You can watch Lily, right?”
I smiled sweetly. “Actually, Megan, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to tell you about my new babysitting business.”
Her eyes lit up. “Babysitting business?”
“Yep! I figured since I’m home anyway, why not make some extra money? And since we’re neighbors, I’d be happy to give you a discounted rate.”
Megan leaned in, intrigued. “That’s amazing! How much?”
“Well, normally I’d charge $20 an hour, but for you, let’s say $15.”
Her jaw dropped. “Fifteen dollars an hour? That’s insane! I can’t afford that!”
I shrugged, feigning sympathy. “I know, childcare is so expensive these days. That’s why it’s important to find people willing to help out. Don’t you think?”
Megan’s face reddened. “I’ll figure something out.”
As she stormed off, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. The tables had finally turned.
Over the next few weeks, I fully embraced my role as a “professional” babysitter. Every time Megan asked for a favor, I responded with mock invoices and rate sheets.
One afternoon, she came to pick up Lily ten minutes late. I greeted her with a smile and a piece of paper.
“Here’s your invoice, Megan. Don’t forget the late pick-up fee!”
She snatched the paper, her face contorting with rage. “This is ridiculous! You’re nothing but a greedy witch!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You have no right to charge me after all the times I’ve done favors for you!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “FAVORS? Like the time I asked you to watch Tommy for one hour and you said you weren’t comfortable watching other people’s kids?”
“That’s… that’s different! I’m a single mom. I’m busy!”
“And I’m a stay-at-home mom running a business,” I countered. “We’re all busy, Megan.”
She grabbed Lily’s hand and stormed off, leaving me feeling both guilty and oddly empowered.
Word of my “babysitting business” spread quickly through the neighborhood. I hadn’t planned on it, but soon other moms came to me with their Megan stories.
Chelsea, another neighbor, caught me at the mailbox. “Annie, you’re a genius! I started charging Megan too, and suddenly she stopped asking me to watch Lily.”
I laughed. “Really? I thought I was the only one.”
Chelsea shook her head. “Oh no, she’s been trying this with everyone. But now? She can’t find anyone to help her for free anymore.”
As we chatted, I saw Megan pull into her driveway. She glared at us before slamming her car door and stomping inside.
I turned to Chelsea. “I almost feel bad.”
“Don’t! She needed to learn she can’t take advantage of people.”
I nodded, watching Megan’s house. “I guess you’re right.”
Weeks passed, and I hardly saw Megan anymore. The constant knocking had stopped, and an eerie quiet settled over our little corner of the neighborhood.
One evening, as I was watering my front garden, I saw her struggling with groceries. For a moment, I considered offering help. Then I remembered all the times she’d left me in the lurch.
“Some people need to carry the heavy weight of their actions!” I muttered and turned around, ignoring her.
Megan soon found herself in a bind. Every time she asked for help babysitting, she was met with either a rate card or a “Sorry, I’m just too busy!”
Frustrated, she realized she couldn’t rely on “FREE” favors anymore and had to pay for a professional sitter.
So, there you have it, folks. Was it petty? Perhaps a bit. Was it satisfying? Absolutely! But sometimes, the best revenge is learning to communicate effectively and set healthy boundaries. Have you ever dealt with an entitled neighbor? How did you handle the situation? Share your stories in the comments!
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