When my daughter-in-law asked me to babysit for the weekend, I thought I was signing up for cuddles, giggles, cookie crumbs, and maybe a thank-you hug. Instead, I got something that made my jaw drop—a handwritten bill for things I used while staying in her house! I was so shocked and furious, I started planning the perfect revenge.
It all started when I was outside, sticky-fingered from refilling the hummingbird feeder, when I got a text from Brittany, my daughter-in-law.
“Hey, would you mind staying with Noah this weekend? Ethan has a work retreat and I have a spa trip planned with my sister.”
I raised my eyebrows.
Brittany and I had never really been close. Since Noah was born, she liked to talk about “setting boundaries” with grandparents—honestly, her boundaries reminded me of the Berlin Wall.
But I didn’t hesitate. I love every second I get to spend with my grandson. His tiny hands, his squeaky “Grahmaaa!”—he melts my heart.
“Of course,” I texted back.
“Everything you need will be ready. Just relax and enjoy time with him!” she replied.
I smiled. I was already imagining Noah and I baking cookies together. He had just discovered sprinkles and insisted on putting them everywhere—except the cookies.
But when I showed up Friday afternoon, the house looked like a tornado had rolled through and taken the cleaning supplies with it.
There were toys everywhere—on the couch, under the table, even in the hallway. The sink was piled high with dishes, and a greasy, crusty pan sat in cold water on the stove like it had been soaking for days.
“GRAHMA!” Noah shouted, waddling toward me with a saggy diaper and his arms wide open.
I scooped him up. My irritation melted away the moment he kissed my cheek.
“Hey, Abby! Thanks so much for coming.” Brittany appeared, wheeling a suitcase behind her. “There’s food in the fridge, Noah’s stuff is in his room, and I’m sure I don’t need to explain everything to you.”
She gave Noah a quick kiss and was halfway out the door before I could blink.
“Be good for Grandma, sweetie! Mommy will be back soon!” she called, already halfway down the driveway.
“Mommy go bye-bye?” Noah asked me with wide blue eyes—the same eyes his dad had at that age.
“She’s going on a trip, baby. We get to have a special weekend together!”
He nodded, then ran off to show me his latest toy car.
Once he was happily stacking blocks, I went into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.
That’s when I realized Brittany’s idea of “everything you need will be ready” was very different from mine.
There were half a dozen eggs, no bread, and definitely no real meals. I sniffed the milk: questionable at best.
“What on earth?” I muttered. “Is this a babysitting gig or a survival challenge?”
Then I noticed Noah’s diaper sagging again. I decided to change him before we had any “surprises.”
But when I opened the drawer in his room, my heart stopped. Only five diapers. No wipes.
Seriously?
Now I wasn’t just annoyed—I was furious.
But I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to let this ruin my time with Noah.
“Stay here, honey. I’ll be right back,” I said, handing him a toy.
I marched into the bathroom, grabbed a lavender washcloth I was pretty sure was Brittany’s, and used it as a makeshift baby wipe.
“Looks like we’re doing a load of laundry,” I told Noah. “But first, you and me? We’re going shopping.”
“Store!” he squealed.
I strapped him into his car seat and we headed out.
$68 later, we returned home with wipes, diapers, snacks, groceries, and a little stuffed elephant Noah hugged so tight I couldn’t say no.
“We make cookies?” he asked as we unloaded the bags.
“Tomorrow, sweetheart. Tonight, we make dinner and clean up this disaster zone.”
That weekend became one big, happy blur.
We played at the park until our cheeks turned pink from the chilly wind. Noah giggled wildly as I pushed him higher and higher on the swing.
“Higher, Grahma!”
“Not too high,” I said with a grin—and gave him one more push that sent him squealing with joy.
We baked cookies. Noah cracked an egg so far off the bowl it splattered on the counter.
“Oopsie,” he whispered, his eyes like saucers.
“Good thing we bought extras,” I said with a wink. “Try again. Practice makes perfect!”
We cuddled under a blanket and watched Finding Nemo, and I smiled as he whispered the words he knew by heart.
At night, I read him three stories, gave five kisses, and tucked him in like a burrito.
And once he was asleep, I got to work.
I washed dishes, cleaned the counters, folded laundry, and even made a homemade casserole for Brittany to enjoy when she got back.
By Sunday night, I was completely exhausted—but my heart was so full it could’ve burst.
Monday morning, sunlight filled the kitchen, and I spotted a note under a coffee mug.
It had my name on it. Pink pen. Loopy handwriting.
I smiled, thinking it was a thank-you note.
Instead, it was a bill.
Eggs: $8
Water (3 bottles): $3
Electricity: $12
Toilet paper: $3
Laundry detergent: $5
Toothpaste: $4
TOTAL: $40
“Please Venmo by Friday. Thanks!! ❤️”
I stared. Then I laughed. Then I got angry.
The front door creaked open.
“Abby? I’m home!” Brittany’s voice rang out.
I could’ve blown up right there—but I took a deep breath and forced a smile.
“Hi, Brittany. I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
She shrugged. “How was everything?”
“Wonderful,” I said truthfully. “Noah is an angel.”
“Thanks for helping out.” She was already scrolling on her phone.
I kissed Noah goodbye and left.
And by the time I got home, I had the perfect idea.
I sat down at my computer and typed like a woman possessed. Parenting receipts, life lessons, emotional support—all of it went into the invoice.
Grandmother Services, Est. 1993
Raising One Fine Husband for You Since Day One
SERVICES RENDERED:
- 18 years of feeding your husband: 19,710 meals @ $5 = $98,550
- 18 years of laundry: 3 loads/week x 52 weeks x 18 years @ $5 = $14,040
- Doctor visits: 12 years @ $25 = $3,600
- Driving to school/events: 9,000 miles @ $0.58 = $5,220
- Breakup counseling: 15 hours @ $75 = $1,125
- Tutoring/life advice: 500 hours @ $30 = $15,000
- Emotional support: 18 years @ $10/day = $65,700
Subtotal: $203,235
Family Discount (because I’m generous): -$203,195
TOTAL: $40
At the bottom, I wrote:
“Please deduct your original ‘invoice’ from this amount. ❤️ Thanks for understanding!!”
I printed it on fancy linen paper and slid it into a gold-trimmed envelope like it was wedding stationery.
The next morning, I dropped it in her mailbox.
Not even an hour later, my phone rang.
“Mom?” Ethan’s voice was barely holding back laughter.
“Yes, dear?”
“What… what did you do?”
“Whatever do you mean?” I said sweetly.
“Brittany’s upset. She says you’re mocking her boundaries.”
I stayed quiet.
“She showed me the invoice,” he added, softer now. “And honestly? I told her she deserved it. I had no idea she billed you for using the house. Mom… that was epic.”
I smiled, finally feeling the weight lift.
“I raised you, didn’t I?” I said. “I know how to stand my ground.”
A week passed.
Then, while I was out in the garden planting tulips, my phone buzzed with a Venmo alert.
$40 from Brittany.
Caption: To settle my debt. Please don’t charge me interest 😂
I laughed so hard the neighbor’s cat leapt off the fence.
That evening, I donated every penny to the local children’s hospital—in Noah’s name.
Because in the end, you don’t beat pettiness with more pettiness.
You beat it with grace, glitter… and a very well-organized spreadsheet.
