A neighbor thought my 73-year-old mother was just a sweet woman with too much free time. But when that same person took advantage of her kindness, I ensured the truth came to light. My mom is 73.
She still wakes up at 6 a.m.
every morning. She has the same routine as when she worked at the library — puts on her face cream, irons a blouse even if she’s not going anywhere, and brews her coffee in that chipped white pot she refuses to replace.
Then she sits at the table with her small black notebook and writes down everything she spent money on the day before. Four dollars on milk.
Thirty-eight cents for a pack of gum.
She notes down everything: groceries, prescriptions, and more. She doesn’t complain, never has. Which is probably why people think they can take advantage of her.
Our neighbor, Claire, lives across the street.
She’s 36 years old and works at a marketing agency that always seemed to be sending her to “client lunches” and “strategy meetings.” These events happen mysteriously during happy hour. She has a three-year-old daughter named Lily who’s either screaming, sleeping, or bouncing off the walls.
Claire stopped me one morning while I was watering the porch plants. She was holding Lily, who had grape juice all over her shirt and was chewing a Barbie shoe.
“Hey,” Claire said.
“This is random, but do you think your mom would be up for watching Lily a few afternoons a week?”
I looked at her for a second. “Like babysitting?”
“Yeah,” she said, waving it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “Just a few hours here and there.
Lily’s daycare has been short-staffed, and it’s been a nightmare.”
I told her she’d have to ask my mom directly, but I’d mention it.
That night, I brought it up over dinner. “She said what?” my mom asked, raising an eyebrow.
“She asked if you’d want to babysit. A few afternoons.”
My mom paused, seemingly hesitating as she contemplated the request.
She sipped her tea.
“Well, I don’t need much,” she said. “Just something fair.”
Claire came over the next day with her over-the-top smile and her glossy hair piled on top of her head like a reality star. She sat across from my mom and said, “How about $80 a day?
Cash.
No taxes, no paperwork, no drama.”
My mom agreed. She even wrote “Claire babysitting” and the agreed-upon amount in her notebook.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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