Coming back home with our newborn from the hospital was a blissful moment. Yet, the joy was tinged with surprise when I found a note on our kitchen table. I thought my mother-in-law had left us a sweet welcome message, but it turned out to be a $600 invoice for looking after our dog, Rich, while I was in labor. My husband, Jake, said he’d take care of it, but I had another idea.
Just before my due date, as I lay on the couch with an increasingly sharp ache in my back, our golden retriever, Rich, nestled beside me. It was like he sensed my discomfort, and his loyal presence was a comfort. I called out to Jake, who was in the kitchen making a sandwich.
“Jake, we need to sort out what to do with Rich when we’re at the hospital,” I said. He came over, kissed my forehead, and assured me, “Don’t worry. Mom adores Rich. She’ll manage.” While I loved Jake’s calm nature, there were moments when it got on my nerves.
That evening, Jake called his mom, Abigail, asking if she could watch Rich. She responded enthusiastically, agreeing without hesitation. Thinking the issue was settled, I felt relieved.
With our hospital bags packed the next morning, we dropped Rich at Abigail’s. With a warm smile, she sent us off, saying, “I’ve got this. Go welcome my grandchild!” Though she seemed kind, part of me sensed she wasn’t thrilled about staying behind and not coming to the hospital.
At the hospital, things accelerated, and my water broke as soon as we arrived. Labor was intense—a mix of gripping bed rails and enduring contractions while Jake attempted to remain composed. But when they placed our son in my arms, every bit of pain and fatigue vanished. Jake and I couldn’t help but cry in joy over the perfect little person we had brought into the world.
Three days later, we were discharged. Jake called Abigail with our thanks and informed her of our return. Thoughtfully, she offered us some time to adjust before visiting us and meeting the baby. I appreciated her consideration and looked forward to reuniting Rich with his new little sibling.
Upon arriving home, I noticed a note on the table. Assuming it was a loving message from Abigail, I opened it—with quite the surprise. It was a request for $600, stating, “You owe me for feeding and walking Rich. My time isn’t free. Bank details included.”
I reread the note, stunned. Abigail seriously intended to charge us after the fact, without ever mentioning a word prior. I called Jake over, unable to believe it. He agreed to talk to her, but I had another approach in mind. “Hold on, I’ve got this,” I said, as a plan formed in my mind.
About a week later, Abigail visited us to meet the baby. After fussing over her grandson, she quickly shifted focus. “So, when do I get my payment?” she asked with a sugary smile. Matching her grin, I replied, “Of course, Abigail. I’ll pay you—but let’s even the field.”
From the desk, I fetched a folder and placed it in front of her. “If you’re going to charge for services, it stands to reason we should too,” I explained. The folder contained a comprehensive invoice of all the favors Jake and I had done for her over the years: moving her residence ($800), covering a car repair ($1,200), and babysitting a neighbor’s kids ($600).
Abigail scrutinized the document, her expression shifting to pale disbelief. “This is absurd!” she exclaimed. “Family cannot charge for favors like these!” Raising an eyebrow, I retorted, “Exactly. Family assumes mutual support without financial tallying—or so I believed.”
Despite her protests, she eventually left, visibly irate. Jake had been quietly observing the exchange. He embraced me, chuckling, “Nobody should underestimate my wife.” We shared a laugh, then settled onto the couch with our baby as Rich curled at our feet.
I realized Abigail might not learn from this episode, but one thing was assured—she wouldn’t see that $600 payment anytime soon. And if she dared bring it up again, well, I still had that folder for reference. Let her challenge it.