When My Daughter Gave Birth to Her Seventh Child, I Realised That My Patience Had Finally Run Out!

For the past two decades, Ive been living with my daughter and her husband, but I simply havent the strength to put up with it any longer.
Im 65 years old, and Im a grandmother to seven grandchildren. Many might envy me, and I would say its a great blessingif only I didnt have to look after them all and endure their constant racket every day. Its as though my daughter, Emily, doesnt even realise how many children she actually has.
When my sixth granddaughter was born, I sat down with Emily for a serious conversation. Never did I think Id have to talk with my 35-year-old daughter about family planning. Then, when she and her husband said they were expecting their seventh, I honestly started to feel faint. There are only five bedrooms in this house, and now there are nine people living under one roof.
Emilys fortunate indeed that my late husband and I worked hard all our lives to build a bigger home in the countryside and buy a decent bit of land. Now, my son-in-law goes around calling himself a farmer, working that very land. Emily helps him with everything, while I spend my days in the kitchen, cooking for that little army. Children grow, their appetites grow, and they refuse yesterdays supperonly fresh meals will do.
Back when the sixth grandchild arrived, I had hoped Emily might see my plight and let me rest a bitmaybe a break from the endless nappies and wailing babies. But it all repeated again, and again.
All the while, Ive stayed in touch with my brother John, who lives on his own ever since his daughter moved off to Australia. One evening, John rang and asked if I could come stay as he wasnt feeling well. Of course I worried about him, but I must admit, I also felt relieved: at last, an escape from the relentless grind.
Now Johns feeling much better, and I dont know if I can bring myself to return home after these few weeks awayto another round of screaming and chaos. Since Ive been here, Ive remembered how much I love reading, listening to music, and settling into a good film. For the first time, Ive tasted what it means to enjoy my later years, rather than just waiting for the grandchildren to grow up. The trouble is, I dont know how to break it to my family.
Emily keeps ringing, pleading for me to come back because she cant cope on her own. Im torn.
Sometimes, putting your own well-being first isnt selfish at allits simply necessary. After all, you cant pour from an empty jug. And perhaps its time my family learned to stand a little more on their own two feet.