My husband’s 19-year-old daughter has been living in our home far longer than expected, despite it being time for her to move out. Since she refused to leave, I asked her to at least help by babysitting our two-year-old while my husband and I worked full-time. Her response was sharp: “I’m not your free nanny. I have my own life!” My husband stayed silent. The following day, I came home and went to check on our baby.
What I found shocked me—his diaper was soaked, his face was red from crying, and no one was around. The TV in the living room blared a loud reality show, and trash was scattered across the floor. I called for Nora but got no reply. Upstairs, I found her in her room, laughing on a video call with someone.
When she saw me, she rolled her eyes, as if I was the one overreacting. I asked her calmly if she’d checked on the baby, and she casually replied, “I heard him cry, but I was busy. Babies cry—it’s normal.” I was shaking. I couldn’t believe how indifferent she was.
I took my son to the kitchen, changed him, and held him close. In that moment, I vowed not to let this happen again. Later, when my husband came home, I told him everything. He looked drained and said, “She’s just a kid,” but I could see he knew we couldn’t keep ignoring the problem.
Over the next few weeks, things didn’t improve. Nora made no effort to help. She slammed doors, muttered complaints, and made it clear she thought life was unfair. She left dirty dishes everywhere and expected me to clean up. When I asked her to pitch in, she shouted that I wasn’t her mother and had no authority over her. My husband promised he’d speak to her, but every attempt ended in yelling or tears, and he always backed down.
One Friday evening, I got home later than usual due to traffic. Loud music was blasting from the kitchen. When I walked in, I found Nora throwing a party with people I didn’t recognize. They were drinking and dancing like it was a club—beer bottles on every surface, the kitchen a mess, and something sticky spilled across the floor. Worst of all, my baby was asleep on the couch in the middle of it all, with cigarette smoke drifting in from the open door.
I immediately scooped him up and rushed upstairs, my heart racing with fury and fear. I texted my husband: Come home NOW. When he arrived and saw the chaos, he finally understood. His eyes widened when one of the guests stumbled into the hallway with a beer. Furious, he ordered everyone to leave. Once the house was cleared out, he sat down with Nora and tried again to talk—but she…