My MIL Demanded $600 for Walking & Feeding Our Dog While I Was in Labor – I Agreed, but Only on One Condition

When I came home from the hospital with my newborn, I noticed a note on the table and assumed it was a kind message from my mother-in-law. Instead, it said she was charging us $600 for taking care of our dog while I was in labor. My husband promised to talk to her, but I had a better idea.

A few days before I went into labor, I was sprawled out on the couch, trying to manage the dull ache in my lower back that kept growing sharper by the minute.

A woman in her 30s, 9 months pregnant, sits on a couch looking worried and uncomfortable | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 30s, 9 months pregnant, sits on a couch looking worried and uncomfortable | Source: Midjourney

My golden retriever, Rich, rested his head on my lap, his big brown eyes watching me like he knew something was up. I scratched behind his ears, grateful for his calm presence.

“Jake!” I called my husband, my voice strained as another wave of discomfort rolled through me.

Jake was in the kitchen, stacking turkey and cheese onto a sandwich, his eyebrows crunched.

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, not even looking up.

A man in his 30s making a sandwich in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A man in his 30s making a sandwich in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

I sighed. “We need to figure out what to do about Rich while we’re at the hospital. Can we ask your mom to help out?”

We had a scheduled induction the following day because my baby was a week overdue, and I was ready to be done with this mess.

Jake walked over, sandwich in hand, and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “Don’t stress, Doris. Mom loves Rich. She’ll handle it.”

A golden retriever in a home | Source: Pexels

A golden retriever in a home | Source: Pexels

That was my husband. He shrugged off almost anything with an easy solution. His optimism was one of the reasons I loved him, but I’m not going to lie, it was also one of the things that often grated on my nerves.

But that might just be a product of the hormones and my discomfort. “Alright,” I said, leaning back into the cushions. “Just make sure she knows it’s only for a couple of days.”

Later that night, Jake called Abigail, his mom, and explained the situation. She agreed without hesitation. He hung up, grinning. “She said she’s happy to help. Problem solved.”

A man holding a phone | Source: Pexels

A man holding a phone | Source: Pexels

I guessed that would have to be good enough for me.

Jake and I packed our hospital bag that evening, and the next morning, we said goodbye to Rich. By the door, I knelt to scratch his fluffy head.

“Be a good boy for Grandma, okay?” He wagged his tail like he understood.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Abigail waved me off with a smile. “I just wish I could be at the hospital.”

A woman in her 60s waving goodbye in a living room with a smile | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 60s waving goodbye in a living room with a smile | Source: Midjourney

That had been a slight issue. We had asked that our family not visit or accompany us to the hospital. My pregnancy had been rough enough, and I just needed my husband during labor.

If something went wrong, I didn’t want anyone else there either.

Abigail said she understood, but maybe she was still a bit salty about it.

“Mom, you know our wishes,” Jake intervened, smiling to take the sting out of his words.

“I know, I know,” she said. “You modern kids! Now, go have my grandchild.”

“Thank you, Abigail,” I said, and with that, we went out the door.

A pregnant woman in her 30s waving goodbye with a small smile | Source: Midjourney

A pregnant woman in her 30s waving goodbye with a small smile | Source: Midjourney

***

I never got to be induced. My water broke just as we were entering the hospital… and honestly, we, women, need to talk about labor with each other and our daughters more often because this was hell.

I spent hours gripping the hospital bed rails like they were the only thing tethering me to reality. Between the contractions and the endless poking and prodding from nurses, I thought I might lose my mind.

Jake was by my side the whole time, holding my hand and trying his best to keep me calm, though he looked like he was one more contraction away from passing out himself.

A woman in her 30s in a hospital looking in pain while in labor | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 30s in a hospital looking in pain while in labor | Source: Midjourney

But all the pain and the exhaustion melted away the moment they placed my son in my arms. He was tiny, wrinkly, and absolutely perfect.

Jake and I cried like idiots. It was a marvel that we’d brought this little person into the world. For three days, the hospital was our bubble of joy.

When we were finally allowed to go home, I felt relieved. We carefully carried our child through the hospital doors toward the parking lot.

A parking lot | Source: Pexels

A parking lot | Source: Pexels

Jake called Abigail to tell her we had been discharged, and she said she was going to give us a few days to get settled before meeting the baby. That was so kind of her!

As we pulled up to our driveway, I thought about settling on our couch and getting Rich to meet his new little brother. It was going to be perfect… yeah, no.

The first thing I noticed when we walked into the kitchen was a folded piece of paper on the table. My heart fluttered, thinking Abigail had left us a sweet “Welcome Home” note.

A folded piece of paper on a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney

A folded piece of paper on a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney

I carefully shifted the baby in my arms and opened it, already imagining something like “Congratulations on your new bundle of joy!”

Instead, the note read:

“You owe me $600 for feeding and walking Rich. My time costs money. You have my bank details.”

For a moment, I just stared at it, sure I was reading it wrong. But nope. It was real. My mother-in-law was demanding money for watching our dog.

It’s not that I didn’t want to pay for services like that, but she was family AND she never mentioned charging us.

A woman's hand holding a piece of paper with a note | Source: Midjourney

A woman’s hand holding a piece of paper with a note | Source: Midjourney

“Jake,” I called, my voice sharp. He was in the living room, setting down the car seat. “You might want to come see this.”

He walked in, took one look at the note, and groaned. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” I said, waving the paper in his face. “Your mom’s demanding money for taking care of Rich while I was pushing your child out of my body.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, already looking defeated. “I’ll talk to her,” he muttered.

A man in his 30s looking exasperated, running his hand through his hair in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A man in his 30s looking exasperated, running his hand through his hair in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

“No,” I snapped, stopping him in his tracks. “I’ll handle this.” My mind was already coming up with an idea, and it didn’t involve quietly paying up.

A week later, Abigail came over to see the baby. She strolled in with a big smile, kissed Jake’s cheek in greeting, and began cooing over my son like the most doting grandmother.

“Oh, he’s precious,” she said, cradling him in her arms. “He has Jake’s nose.”

A baby's face | Source: Pexels

A baby’s face | Source: Pexels

For a moment, I almost believed she was here just to see her grandson. But as she handed the baby back to me, she dropped the act.

“So,” she said, brushing her hands together. “When can I expect my money? I’ve waited long enough.”

I stared at her, holding my baby close. My smile didn’t waver. “Of course, Abigail. I’ll pay you—on one condition.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Condition? What condition?”

I walked over to the computer desk we kept in the area between the kitchen and the living room and pulled out a folder I’d prepared earlier. I’d spent the past few days going through every instance when Jake and I had done something for her.

A set of folders arranged on a desk | Source: Pexels

A set of folders arranged on a desk | Source: Pexels

Every favor, every single dollar we ever spent on her (excluding gifts) was all there in black and white.

“Well,” I said, flipping it open, “since you’re charging us for your services, I figured it’s only fair we do the same.”

I laid the folder on the table and slid it toward her. Abigail leaned over, her face tight with suspicion. “What is this?” she asked.

“You can think of it as an itemized invoice,” I said, keeping my voice light. “You know, like professionals do.”

Her face went pale as she grabbed the paper and scanned what I’d written.

A woman in her 60s looking surprised while holding a piece of paper | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 60s looking surprised while holding a piece of paper | Source: Midjourney

“Let’s see,” I began, tapping the paper. “Helping you move houses last year? That’s $800. That’s cheaper than regular movers, so you can consider it a family discount. Then, there’s the time we paid for your car repair when your transmission failed. That was $1,200. And the free babysitting I did for your neighbor’s kids at your request? That’s around $600.”

Two people moving boxes | Source: Pexels

Two people moving boxes | Source: Pexels

Abigail’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “This is ridiculous!” she finally sputtered. “You can’t charge me for things family does for each other!”

I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. “Exactly,” I said, my tone sharp. “Family helps each other out without expecting payment. At least, that’s what I thought.”

A woman in her 30s holding a newborn in a blanket, talking and waving her hand | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 30s holding a newborn in a blanket, talking and waving her hand | Source: Midjourney

She tried to argue, but her words came out jumbled. “But… but this is different! I had to rearrange my schedule to take care of Rich!”

“And I had to rearrange my entire life to have your grandchild,” I shot back, shrugging. “So if you want to talk about fair compensation, I think we’re more than even.”

Abigail’s face turned beet red. She stood there for a moment, staring at me like she couldn’t believe what was happening. Then, without another word, she spun around and stormed out of the house, slamming the door so hard the baby started to fuss.

A woman in her 60s, her face blushed and pouting, looking angry in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 60s, her face blushed and pouting, looking angry in a living room | Source: Midjourney

Jake, who had been watching silently from the kitchen, walked over and shook his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. “No one should mess with my wife,” he said, wrapping me in his arms and kissing my cheek.

I couldn’t help but laugh as we pulled apart. “You got that right,” I replied teasingly, sinking onto the couch with the baby.

Rich trotted over, his tail wagging, and rested his head on my knee. I scratched his ears, looking down at the little bundle in my arms.

A golden retriever with a lolling tongue | Source: Pexels

A golden retriever with a lolling tongue | Source: Pexels

At that moment, I felt at peace. Abigail might not have learned her lesson, but at least she wouldn’t be bothering us about that $600 again. And if she ever did, well… I still had the folder.

Let her try me.

A woman in her 30s holding a newborn wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a couch with her husband smiling in the background | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 30s holding a newborn wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a couch with her husband smiling in the background | Source: Midjourney

Woman Sees the Face of the Santa She Hired and Realizes the Past She Feared Has Caught up with Her — Story of the Day

Lisa believed that a perfect Christmas was one spent with family. Lisa wished for her daughter to have the full, happy family she herself had never experienced. However, when the Santa she had hired revealed his face, she realized the importance of being careful what you wish for.

On Christmas Eve, the Marble family gathered in their cozy living room, the soft glow of twinkling lights from the Christmas tree casting warm patterns on the walls.

The aroma of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, and freshly baked bread filled the air.

Lisa moved gracefully between the kitchen and the table, her hands full of steaming dishes.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She was the kind of hostess who made everything look effortless, her holiday apron dusted with a sprinkle of flour from the cookies she had baked earlier.

Meanwhile, Robert entertained their giggling daughter, Ashley, who clung to his shoulders like a tiny adventurer on a great expedition.

“Spread your arms like you’re an airplane, Ashley,” Robert instructed, his voice buzzing with enthusiasm as he mimicked the deep rumble of a plane engine.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Ashley squealed with delight, her arms stretched wide as she wobbled slightly.

“I’m flying, Daddy!” she yelled, her voice ringing like a tiny bell.

“Careful, Captain! We’re hitting turbulence,” Robert joked, swaying exaggeratedly from side to side.

Lisa paused by the table, wiping her hands on a towel, and watched them with a soft smile.

“Time to land, dinner is ready,” she called out, her voice warm and teasing.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Robert made a dramatic engine noise as he lowered Ashley to the floor.

“Boeing 747 coming in for landing, woo-woo-woo!”

Ashley laughed even harder, tugging on Robert’s sleeve.

“More! I want more!”

“Later, sweetheart,” Robert promised, kneeling to her eye level. “First, we need fuel. Pilots have to eat too.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

As they sat down to dinner, Lisa glanced at her family. The clinking of silverware and Ashley’s happy chatter filled the room.

Her heart swelled as she realized, for the hundredth time, how lucky she was to have these moments, this family, and this life.

After dinner, Lisa carried the last of the plates to the kitchen, glancing at Robert as he leaned back in his chair, sipping coffee.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Ashley was curled up on the carpet in front of the TV, her eyes glued to a cartoon with talking animals.

The cheerful jingle of the show filled the room, mixing with the faint hum of Christmas music from the radio.

Lisa caught Robert’s eye and gave him a small nod. He leaned forward slightly and whispered, “Is it time? Where is he?”

Lisa checked her watch and whispered back, “Maybe he’s running late. The weather’s not great, but he should be here any minute.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

As if on cue, the doorbell rang, its cheerful chime making Ashley’s head snap toward the door.

Lisa wiped her hands on her apron and walked quickly to answer it. When she opened the door, a gust of cold air blew in, carrying with it a man dressed head to toe in a Santa costume.

“Ho-ho-ho!” he bellowed, stepping inside and brushing snow off his red coat. “Where’s the little girl for whom I’ve brought presents?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Santa! You came!” Ashley shouted, jumping up from the carpet and running to throw her arms around him.

Her giggles filled the room as Santa patted her back warmly.

He slung a large red bag off his shoulder, setting it beside the Christmas tree, and plopped down on the couch with a playful sigh.

“Let’s see what I’ve got for you in here! Did you write me a letter this year?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Yes!” Ashley said, her eyes sparkling. “Didn’t you read it?”

Santa chuckled, stroking his fake white beard.

“I did, but you know, there are so many children to bring presents to, and this old Santa sometimes forgets!”

Ashley tilted her head, her face serious. “I asked for a puppy!”

“A puppy?” Santa repeated, pretending to think deeply.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Hmm, let me check.” He rummaged through his bag dramatically, pulling out a wrapped box.

“Oh! Found it!”

Ashley ripped the paper open eagerly, revealing a shiny robotic dog. Her excitement faded. “I wanted a real one!”

Santa leaned in, lowering his voice.

“A real puppy is a big responsibility. But if you take good care of this one, maybe next year you’ll get a real one. Ho-ho-ho!”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Ashley smiled reluctantly, her little hands already exploring the toy’s buttons.

Lisa and Robert exchanged a quiet look and slipped out of the room, leaving their daughter to enjoy her magical moment with Santa.

“I told you we should’ve gotten her a real dog,” Robert muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the bedroom door.

His tone was laced with disappointment, and he glanced at Lisa with raised eyebrows.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Lisa sighed, brushing her hair back and folding her arms.

“A dog is a big responsibility, Robert. Who’s going to walk it in the freezing cold? Who’s going to clean up after it? Train it? Feed it? Let me guess—me!” She gave him a pointed look, clearly irritated by the suggestion.

Robert didn’t back down.

“But it’s not just about the work, Lisa. A dog isn’t just a pet; it’s a family member. You don’t understand how much joy it could bring Ashley—and us! She’s been asking for one for months. Don’t you want to see her happy?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Lisa hesitated, frowning as she thought it over.

“Fine,” she said finally, throwing up her hands. “But don’t forget, if she gets bored of it, you’re taking care of it. Not me!”

“Deal!” Robert said with a triumphant grin, straightening up.

But their moment of debate was interrupted when Lisa froze, tilting her head. “It’s too quiet in there,” she whispered.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I can’t hear them at all.”

Robert’s smile faded.

“Yeah,” he agreed, a trace of worry creeping into his voice. Without another word, they both hurried out of the room to check on Ashley.

Santa was no longer on the couch when Lisa and Robert rushed into the living room.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Their eyes darted around the space, but it was eerily empty. Panic gripped Lisa as she grabbed Robert’s arm.

“Where’s Ashley?” she gasped, her voice trembling.

Robert’s eyes widened, and they both sprinted toward the front door. There, they saw the man in the Santa suit standing by the doorway, holding Ashley in his arms.

The little girl was bundled up in her coat, her scarf neatly wrapped around her neck.

“Stop!” Lisa shouted, her voice sharp and full of fear.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Santa froze, turning to face them with wide eyes as Lisa and Robert dashed toward him.

Lisa grabbed Ashley, pulling her back protectively while Robert stepped in front of them.

“What were you planning to do?!” Robert growled, shoving the man against the wall. His voice was low and menacing. “Kidnap her?!”

“No! No! You’ve misunderstood,” the man stammered, raising his hands defensively. “I just wanted to play snowballs with her! That’s all, I swear!”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“That wasn’t part of the plan!” Lisa snapped, her hands gripping Ashley’s shoulders tightly. “You were supposed to deliver the gifts and leave!”

Ashley squirmed in Lisa’s grip, her voice breaking through the tension. “Mom, stop! He’s my grandpa!”

Lisa froze, staring at her daughter. “What are you talking about, sweetie?” she asked, her voice softer now but still tinged with confusion.

The man in the Santa suit sighed heavily and reached up, removing his fake white beard.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Underneath was an older man’s face, worn with deep lines but softened by a sad smile.

“My name is Thomas Martins,” he said quietly. “I’m sure that name rings a bell…”

Lisa’s face went pale. She quickly gestured for Ashley to go to her room.

“Go on, honey,” she said, her voice firm but gentle.

Ashley hesitated, her brows furrowed, but eventually nodded and walked upstairs, glancing back before disappearing.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“What’s he talking about, Lisa?” Robert asked, his voice breaking the silence.

Lisa turned to him, her expression filled with a mix of anger and pain.

“This can’t be,” she muttered, shaking her head. Then, turning to Thomas, she shouted, “Get out of here! I don’t want to see you in my house!”

Thomas held his hands up again, his eyes pleading. “I didn’t come to take your daughter, Lisa,” he said earnestly.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I just wanted to see her, to spend time with her. She’s my granddaughter, and I’ve never seen her in my entire life.”

Robert turned to Lisa, his confusion growing. “What’s he talking about, Lisa?”

Lisa’s shoulders slumped, and she closed her eyes for a moment before speaking. “He’s telling the truth,” she said softly.

“He’s Ashley’s real grandfather.”

“What?!” Robert exclaimed, his voice rising.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“What does this mean?!”

Lisa took a deep breath. “He’s my father,” she admitted. “The one who abandoned me when I was little…”

Robert’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to Thomas. “It’s him?! Why did you come here?!”

Thomas’s shoulders sagged as he spoke.

“I just wanted to see my granddaughter, nothing more. I know you’ll never forgive me for what I did—I can’t forgive myself either—but I only wanted to be her grandfather for this one evening.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Robert clenched his fists, stepping closer.

“That’s enough,” he growled, beginning to push Thomas toward the door.

“Wait, Robert,” Lisa said, her voice stopping him. She stepped forward, her expression softening.

“It’s Christmas. This is a day when families should be together.”

She turned to Thomas, motioning for him to come closer. “Maybe I’m not ready to forgive you for not being in my life,” she said carefully.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“But I don’t want to deny my daughter the chance to know her grandfather. Please, don’t make me regret this decision.”

Tears filled Thomas’s eyes as he nodded.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out and hugged Lisa gently, his shoulders shaking as he wept.

For Thomas, this was more than he had dared to hope for.

And for Lisa, that Christmas brought something unexpected—a new chance to heal and grow as a family.

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

If you enjoyed this story, read this one: It felt like Chelsea’s boyfriend had changed since they started dating. He used to be romantic and gentle and even wrote her letters. But now, he didn’t show up and left her alone at his friend’s birthday. However, after Chelsea found a letter in his friend’s coat, she realized the hard truth. Read the full story here.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.

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