I’ve done everything for my daughter, Miranda. She got pregnant at 18, her boyfriend bailed, and I stepped up—working late shifts so she could go to college, sacrificing my weekends so she could have a social life.
Then, a few days before Valentine’s Day, I heard her giggling on the phone.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, laughing. “My mom has no life anyway. She’ll have no choice but to babysit. She thinks she has a date, but oh please, her priority is my daughter. She’ll cancel, just like always.”
I stood there, frozen. My sacrifices? A joke to her.
That night, Miranda waltzed in, all sweet, saying I’d need to cancel my plans. I smiled. “Of course, sweetheart. Anything for you.”
She had no idea what was coming because on Valentine’s night, I flipped the script.
At exactly 5 PM on Valentine’s Day, I put on my red dress—the one I hadn’t worn in years. My hair was curled, my makeup flawless. I looked in the mirror and felt something stir in me. A piece of myself I’d buried under sleepless nights and self-sacrifice.
At 5:30, Miranda breezed into the house, her little daughter, Lily, bouncing on her hip.
“You’re a lifesaver, Mom,” she said, barely glancing up from her phone.
I grabbed my coat and purse. “Actually, I’m heading out.”
Her head snapped up. “Wait, what?”
I smiled, savoring her shock. “I have plans.”
She let out a nervous laugh. “Okay, Mom. Funny. But seriously, I need you to watch Lily.”
I stepped toward the door. “I’m serious too.”
She blinked. “What? But… but you never go out.”
“Well, maybe I should have started sooner.”
Her face turned red. “Mom, I have plans. I can’t just cancel!”
I raised an eyebrow. “You assumed I would, though.”
She sputtered, her hands tightening around Lily. “Mom, don’t be like this. Who else is going to watch her?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Miranda. Maybe the same person who babysits when I work overtime to make sure you don’t struggle. Or the person who lets you sleep in after a night out.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it.
I stepped outside, turning back only to say, “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” And then I left.
My date wasn’t some grand romance—I wasn’t seeing anyone. But I went out anyway.
I walked into a cozy restaurant, treating myself to a nice dinner. I read a book at a corner table, sipped wine, and enjoyed the hum of conversation around me. It was the most peaceful evening I’d had in years.
Miranda blew up my phone, of course.
Miranda: Mom, where are you?
Miranda: You can’t just leave me like this!
Miranda: I can’t believe you’d do this to me.
I didn’t reply.
Instead, I finished my meal, left a generous tip, and went to a late-night showing of a romantic comedy. Alone. And you know what? It felt incredible.
The next morning, I came home to find Miranda on the couch, arms crossed, looking furious. Lily was playing quietly on the floor.
“I hope you had fun,” she snapped.
“I did, actually.”
She scoffed. “Well, I had to cancel my date. Do you even care?”
I set my purse down. “Miranda, let me ask you something. When was the last time you asked me if I had plans before assuming I’d drop everything for you?”
Silence.
“When was the last time you even considered that I might want a life, too?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Mom… you love babysitting Lily. You always do it.”
I exhaled. “I love Lily. But that doesn’t mean I should be expected to give up everything for you.”
She bit her lip. “I just… I thought you didn’t mind.”
I softened. “I didn’t, at first. But then you stopped appreciating it. And when I heard you say that I had ‘no life anyway’? That hurt, Miranda. It made me realize I’ve let you treat me like a backup plan instead of a person.”
She swallowed hard.
I let the silence stretch before continuing, “I’ll always be here for you and Lily. But from now on, I’m also going to be here for myself.”
She looked away, embarrassed. Then she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I nodded. “I know. But an apology isn’t enough, sweetheart. I need you to show me you understand. Start treating me like a person, not just your safety net.”
She hesitated, then got up and hugged me.
“I will, Mom. I promise.”
Things changed after that.
Miranda started asking—really asking—before assuming I’d babysit. She stopped treating my sacrifices as a given. She even encouraged me to go out more.
One day, she caught me getting ready for a dinner out and smiled. “You look nice, Mom. Have fun.”
It was a small thing, but it meant the world.
I learned something important that Valentine’s Day. If you don’t set boundaries, people will keep taking from you. And if you keep putting yourself last, don’t be surprised when others do too.
So if you’re always sacrificing for others, remember this: You deserve a life, too. And it’s never too late to start living it.
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