Help! My Son and Daughter-in-Law Want Me to Do Chores in Exchange for Seeing My Grandbaby.

Dear Prudence is Slate’s advice column. Submit questions here. (It’s anonymous!)

Dear Prudence,

I am at my wits’ end with my daughter-in-law and her mother! My son and DIL have a new baby that I do not get to see very often, despite living close to them. HER mother on the other hand, lives about two hours away, but seems to see them several times a week. How do I know? My son and DIL have an app to upload photos of the baby (they don’t allow photos of the baby on Facebook and say it’s “too hard” to text me updates, which is a another can of worms). When I asked my son why she gets to see the baby more than I do, he said that she comes over to do chores. Well, I don’t see photos of her doing chores, I see selfies of her cuddling my grand baby! When they have deigned to invite me over, I have offered to do chores too. One time, my DIL told me that I was washing the bottles incorrectly. The next time I arrived, she had a note printed of steps to take to wash the bottles taped up to the fridge, like I was an idiot!

The other time, they asked me to scoop the kitty litter box, even though they know I am allergic to cats! Other times I have been over, she has pumped her breast milk right in front of me, and once asked if she could take a nap while my son was napping also. Sure, just go off to your marital bed while grandma is here! This week, I confronted my son about the lack of invitations. She then invited me to go to a baby music class at the community center with her and the baby, instead of being invited to their home. I am deeply offended. I am thinking that I should confront her directly this time instead of my son, but my sister says that I should keep communicating through my son, not with her. What do you think?

—The Wrong Grandma

Dear Wrong Grandma,

I’m sorry to say this, but your letter (which I assume is biased toward your version of events!) makes me think you’re really hard to be around. The rule when it comes to the parents of a new baby is that you don’t do anything to make their lives hard, emotionally or physically.
You’ve run afoul of this. Badly. In the single paragraph that is your letter, you are 1) complaining about too few text messages, 2) complaining about the other grandma getting too much access, 3) complaining about getting feedback on bottle washing, 4) complaining about being asked to scoop litter, and 5) complaining about a new mother pumping milk and napping.

Your DIL and your son are tired and feeling vulnerable. They’re newly responsible for an entire human life. And all you do is stress them out. They know that any time you’re around, you’re going to either share a grievance or gather the material for a new one. I believe this all started from a place of love and a healthy desire for connection with your grandchild. But it’s spiraled into your becoming a burden and a pest, and making the parents feel uncomfortable in their own home. By insisting upon yourself and criticizing them, in hopes of creating the relationship you want, you are actually working against your own interests.

Assume your son and DIL are barely holding on by a thread. Assume they’re looking at everyone in their lives and saying: “Who will be nice to us if they come over? Who will be helpful? Who will be nonjudgmental? Who will make sure not to burden us with their own needs and complaints?” How can you create a situation in which they think of you when they ask these questions? You have to put their needs first. If you can’t find it in yourself to do that authentically, perhaps by recalling what you wanted and needed when you were a new mom, you should simply do it strategically. By being pleasant, agreeable, and supportive you can make your way back into their lives. To be clear, you don’t need to change litter boxes or do anything that is unsafe or uncomfortable for you. You just need to give them a break.

Remember: You don’t get loving relationships and intimacy through criticism and demands. You don’t fight or debate your way into affection. You don’t “win” it, even if you make a strong case that you’re right and get strangers to agree with you. You just don’t. So the name of the game in this new era of your life is to be easy to be around. And if you want a chance to play that game, you can probably get back in the door with a sincere apology and promise to do better. Do you have it in you?

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Dear Prudence,

I have a question about how to go about mending a friendship, or if I should even attempt to do so. I see letters frequently from people whose friends have messed up and been cut off, and your answers are always pretty astute. This letter is different though, because I’m the friend that messed up.

Four years ago, I was in a downward spiral, and rooming with a friend I’d had since early childhood. We moved in together following mutual bad break-ups and a blanket quarter life crisis between us. Things were going really well, until I began experiencing extreme depression and erratic behavior. This worsened when she met a guy and began spending almost every night with him, and I was alone to do more damage to myself (not blaming her, it’s just the truth). I began dating men who were very controlling and manipulative, and was drinking excessively. Then, she told me about 24 days before we had to re-sign a lease or leave that she was moving in with her boyfriend. I had to force it out of her, I could tell she felt awful for it. I wished her well at first. But then I lost it, and one night when she was away I took a bunch of pills in a deliberate suicide attempt. A guy I was seeing found me and I ended up in the ER. He lied to the doctors and said it was an unintentional drug overdose—I have never done any drugs other than weed maybe 3-4 times. When my friend came back to the apartment, I lied and told her it was an allergic reaction (I have a lot of allergies) and she seemed to believe me. But then she was out within 24 hours and stopped responding to my calls or texts.

Three months later, still no contact, and I did the same thing and took more pills to end things. A neighbor heard me stumbling around and called 911, and I very nearly was successful. This one was much worse, my family was called, and there was no hiding what happened this time. I moved home, got into a partial in-patient program, and was diagnosed as bipolar. I’ve been medicated ever since, graduated from my therapy program, and am a completely different person. After things got better for me, my mom revealed that my friend had found my discharge papers from the hospital that said “drug overdose” and assumed (understandably) that I was using and that was the reason for my behavior. She called my mom and told her, then cut me off completely. It’s been four years, and I think about her all the time. I feel so guilty for how everything went down, and yet still angry that in a time I really needed a friend she kind of dropped me. I get it, what happened was intense. But I just can’t fathom doing that to someone I’d loved for 15+ years.

My family is still angry, because they feel like if she had stuck around through everything it may have prevented the second attempt. I don’t agree—I was a skilled liar back then because I didn’t want anyone to know that I was struggling. But I get their anger. The thing is, I want to apologize to her. I want to tell her that she was wrong about the drugs, that I have a mental illness, but that it’s under control and I’m better. I want to tell her I’m sorry she had to see me like that, and that I hope she’s ok. But where do I start? I still have her number, but I did write a text about three weeks after moving home (so almost four months after she went dark) saying that I knew things got weird between us but I still loved her and wanted to talk and she never responded. Should I write a letter? An email?

—I’m the Problem, It’s Me

Dear It’s Me,

I was with you—and was in favor of you reaching out—right up until I read “But I just can’t fathom doing that to someone I’d loved for 15+ years.” This line tells me that you’re still angry with your friend and you’re still feeling hurt and vulnerable. You can’t fathom it but she did it. And she might do something else you can’t fathom if you reach out again. You’ve overcome so, so much, and you need to be surrounded by people who have shown you unconditional love, not those who dredge up old wounds. There’s a place for a letter here—a letter that you don’t send. The only time to get back in touch will be when you have fully forgiven her for the person she was and fully forgiven yourself too. I don’t think you’re there yet.

Dear Prudence,

I (she/her) have two partners, a married couple (M/F) who have been together for much longer than I have been with them, but we’re steady together as a trio at this point. They have always been planning on having children, yet haven’t been actively trying. My girlfriend became unexpectedly pregnant anyway, which they’re very happy about. They asked me to be this future kid’s parent and after quite a bit of discussion on what that meant, I’ve agreed. For someone who’s never wanted to be a parent, absolutely never wants to or will be pregnant, and is honestly a little scared of children, it turns out I have a lot of opinions on raising kids.

My question is, how hard can I push for a name? They had previously, years before our relationship, decided on a girl’s name they both agree on that I think is about on par with celebrity baby names—generally sort of unusual, named after an object. They disagreed at first, but eventually came up with a boy’s name they sort of agree on, which is the name of a character on a TV show. Which is already a compromise because he wanted a Jr.
and she’s resolutely against that (as am I). I hate both of the names. So much. I’m lucky they texted them to me first, because I could feel my face reacting poorly. My first thought was “what nicknames are there, and how can I avoid calling this kid by their name” which, yes, it feels as bad as it sounds. I haven’t said as much to my partners, but they’re smart cookies and I’m positive they know I hate the names. I cannot imagine pulling off an authoritative full-name call to a misbehaving child at a grocery store with these names. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do it.

They’re not positive on the masc name and have asked me my opinion a couple times—usually in the context of reaffirming that a Jr. is a bad decision. My suggestions are usually just brushed off as not something they like, pretty immediately. The only one that hurt was one of them laughing at a diminutive version of my dad’s name as if it was a fake suggestion (it actually meets every requirement they have for the name, and I thought it would be nice to have some sort of on-paper connection between my family and my kid, who I legally never will be related to). Average parents get to choose their kids’ names, but I’m already not going to be the average parent because they’ll have three of them to start with, me being the very obvious odd one out.

Is this a situation where I just have to get over myself, because I’m petty and judgmental and being unreasonable with no real claim to naming input? Or should I advocate more forcefully that if my partners want me to raise a child equally with them, I should be able to participate in the pre-parenthood decision making as equally as anyone else with a pregnant partner gets to, and not have my suggestions immediately tossed to the side?

—A Rose by Any other Name. Seriously, Any Other Name.

Dear Rose,

Ask yourself this: Why aren’t you leading the naming process? Why are they in a position to ask and brush you off? Why do they have the power to toss your suggestions to the side? Why aren’t you empowered to toss theirs? Why aren’t you a full partner in this decision? Why did you say “they” planned to have children instead of “we”? I think you know the reason: Despite whatever you discussed with them, they don’t see you as having an equal stake in this child’s life. Maybe because of the biology of it all, maybe because of their long history, maybe because you admittedly don’t like kids that much. I know there are polyamourous triad relationships in which everyone is on totally equal footing and receives equal respect, but it doesn’t sound like this is one of them. You are right that you’re the odd man out, and you should take this naming debate as evidence of how you’ll be treated as a parent going forward. If you don’t like being treated as a second-class parent, you might have some big decisions to make before the due date.

Catch up on this week’s Prudie.

My mom, her husband, and some of my siblings have started carrying concealed weapons recently. I have a young child and want to make sure none of our family has guns anywhere near him. My mother told me that their guns would be locked up during Christmas. When I saw her a few days later her husband admitted he was carrying a gun while he held my 2-year-old.