23/09/2025
I'm married to Eric, with a four-year-old son, Noah, from my first marriage. Eric loves him like his own. The only problem is his mom, Patricia. She's called Noah a "burden" more than once, and while Eric shuts it down, the digs never stop.
For our anniversary, Eric booked dinner downtown. We usually hire a sitter, but Patricia shocked me by offering: "Why don't you let Noah have a sleepover with Grandma? You two deserve a night out."
I hesitated. Patricia had never wanted alone time with Noah. But she was all smiles, insisting. So, I agreed.
Dinner was perfect. But later that night, my phone buzzed. Missed calls from Noah's iPad. When I answered, he was sobbing: "Mommy, please come get me."
I rushed over. He stood in the hallway with his backpack half-zipped, clutching his stuffed dinosaur, eyes red. Patricia loomed behind him, arms crossed.
"Look what your son did! He ruined my mattress," she snapped. "Soaked it. I'll need $1,500 for a proper memory foam mattress. Because I have nowhere to sleep now."
I was stunned. Noah hasn't had an accident in years. But Patricia pulled back her sheets, revealing a huge stain on her mattress.
I bit my tongue, got Noah in the car, and left. The next morning she texted links to luxury mattresses, demanding the money. Against my better judgment, Eric convinced me to transfer the $1,500 to avoid arguments.
Patricia sent a smug thumbs-up emoji.
But two days later, my SIL, Claire, called, voice uneasy. "I don't know if I should tell you this... but Mom LIED. About the mattress and Noah. You need to know the truth." ⬇️