I’m 58F and at my wit’s end. My daughter, her partner, and their six kids have been living with my husband and me rent-free for over three years. Both she and her partner have stable jobs, yet they constantly ask us for money — for groceries, car repairs, and “emergencies.” We’ve helped in the past, but it’s becoming unsustainable, especially with my husband nearing retirement.
Yesterday, during a family dinner, she announced baby number seven. The room erupted in cheers — her partner raised a glass, the kids squealed with joy, and even my husband congratulated her. I just sat there in silence, trying to process it.
Finally, I couldn’t hold back. I asked, “How do you plan to afford this baby when you already rely on us so much?” The room went quiet. My daughter’s smile vanished, and she shot back, “We’re doing the best we can, Mom. Babies are a blessing.”
I told her, “I’m not saying they aren’t, but this house is bursting at the seams. You need to start planning to move out.”
She looked shocked. “Move out? Where are we supposed to go? You know we can’t afford rent right now.”
“You’ve had three years,” I replied calmly but firmly. “I’m giving you two months to figure it out.”
Dinner was painfully awkward after that. Her partner avoided eye contact, the kids didn’t understand, and my husband just stared at his plate. Later, my daughter confronted me, angry and hurt: “How can you do this to your own family? We’re trying! And now, when I’m pregnant, you’re kicking us out?”
“I’m not kicking you out,” I told her. “I’m giving you a timeline to take responsibility for your family.” She stormed upstairs.
This morning, I found she’d made a dramatic Facebook post: “I’m pregnant and have nowhere to go. My family doesn’t care about me.” She’s getting sympathy, offers of rooms to rent, and comments criticizing me for being heartless. One of my nieces even wrote, “Shame on your mom for not supporting you in your time of need.”
I’m floored. Supporting her is all I’ve been doing. I’ve sacrificed retirement savings, peace of mind, and privacy to help them. And now I’m being painted as the villain.
My husband agrees we can’t do this forever but thinks two months is too harsh and asked me to reconsider. But I feel like if we keep enabling them, they’ll never leave.
So… am I a bad mother for setting this boundary? Or should I be more patient?
— Shona