Showed Up On Christmas, But My Son Said, “Sorry, I Think You’re At The Wrong House.” Stunned, I Left. Minutes Later, He Called: “Relax, Mom. We Just Want Some Peace.” I Said, “I Understand.” But He Forgot To Hang Up: “She Thinks That Help She Sends Every Month Means She Gets A Say.” I Paused The Monthly Help.

You’re just cutting us off without warning because your feelings got hurt. “Real mature, Mom.”

I closed my eyes briefly, centering myself. “I’ve given you both over $1,000 each month for years.

That’s more than enough time to become financially independent.”

“We are independent,” she snapped. “But things are tight right now with the baby coming and Daniel’s commission-based job.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to make some difficult choices like I did when your father died. “Downsize.

“Take on extra work. “Clip coupons.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Sophie said, her voice trembling with anger. “After everything we’ve been through as a family.”

“That’s just it, Sophie.

We haven’t been a family in a very long time. “I’m simply acknowledging the reality of our relationship.”

I could hear her breathing heavily on the other end of the line. When she spoke again, her voice had shifted to something softer.

Cajoling. “Mom, please. I know Mark was a jerk at Christmas, but don’t punish me for his mistake.

I need you. “The baby needs you.”

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