When I accepted an invitation to spend the Fourth of July at the family ranch, I imagined barbecues, swimming in the lake, and watching fireworks. My best friend Casey came with me, and we both looked forward to a relaxing weekend. Instead, the moment we arrived, Aunt Claire handed us toddler pajamas and informed us that we’d be rooming with the kids. No warning. No choice. What was supposed to be a holiday quickly turned into an unpaid babysitting assignment.
Trying to avoid conflict, Casey and I decided to sleep on the couch rather than complain. That, however, didn’t sit well with Aunt Claire. She scolded us for not “doing our part,” as though being young automatically made us the family’s free child-care providers. The rest of the adults stayed silent, leaving us to fend for ourselves.
Fed up with the guilt-tripping, we packed our things and drove to a friend’s lake house, where we were actually welcomed. That night, instead of wrangling toddlers, we sat by the water, enjoyed the fireworks, and celebrated with people who didn’t expect us to act as nannies.
The next morning, my phone was flooded with messages. Apparently, the fact that I took the cooler and snacks I had personally bought was considered offensive. Aunt Laura even followed up with a passive-aggressive email titled “Disappointed.” I didn’t waste words—I simply sent her a Venmo request for her share of the groceries. She declined it with a single word: “Wow.”
That one word summed it up perfectly. I realized I was done being treated as the default babysitter just because I’m the youngest in the family. From now on, my holidays belong to me—and I’ll be spending them with people who respect my time and boundaries. Some traditions are worth holding onto, but others are better left behind.