“Two Weeks to Pack Up and Find a New Home: Daughters Offended When Single Mum Sets Boundaries After Years of Sacrifice”

Diary entry Two weeks to pack up and find somewhere else to live. My daughters are furious.

I found myself widowed far too early, left to raise my two girls alone in our little terraced house in Manchester. Not once did anyone hear me complain I always put on a brave face, even when money was tight and the future uncertain. My daughters grew up, both managed to get themselves a proper education, and I did all I could to make that happen. I worked two jobs, hardly saw the inside of my own home during the week, just to pay for what they needed.

Then one day, my eldest brought home a boyfriend and informed me just like that that they were getting married, and that he hadnt got anywhere to live. Not long after, she had a baby. The only sensible thing seemed to be to let the new little family have their own room, so I moved in with my younger daughter.

At first, I tried to convince myself it was temporary and that soon enough my daughter and son-in-law would save for a flat of their own and move out. But they never made an effort. In fact, why would they? Theyd got a warm house, there was always food in the cupboards, and it was always me making sure tea was on the table.

I never got so much as a word of thanks for it all. Instead, arguments broke out. My youngest daughter complained about having to clean up after her brother-in-law. My eldest insisted she was tied up with the baby and couldnt help much. The son-in-law piped up, claiming that taking out the bins and doing dishes wasnt a mans job, and anyway, he spent all day glued to his computer.

The atmosphere had become unbearable. I dreaded coming home. When I eventually suggested to my eldest that perhaps it was time for them to find a place of their own to rent, all I got was, Well, Mum, were saving for a mortgage. Where are we supposed to get the money from? And so, they stayed.

The tipping point finally came when my youngest brought home her boyfriend. Mum, hes just come down from Newcastle hell be living with us for a bit. I honestly didnt know where she thought hed sleep. The kitchen, perhaps? She must have expected Id ask, because she calmly explained the kitchen was a bit cramped, but if I moved my things in there, she and her boyfriend could have a room to themselves.

That was the last straw. It suddenly hit me no one cared what I thought. If they had their way, theyd ship me off to a care home just as calmly. So, I put my foot down: You have two weeks to pack your things and find somewhere else to live. My daughters took it terribly. They swore Id never see my grandchildren again, that Id end up old and alone and really, they might never forgive me.

But this time, I stood firm. If this is what life has in store for me, then so be it. Its time for them to stand on their own two feet.

Now, my fiftieth birthday is coming up, and I honestly dont know if my daughters will come round or even remember. Did I do the right thing, kicking them out of the house I worked so hard to keep? What would you have done, in my shoes?