On my first day as a postpartum nanny, the client’s mother-in-law dragged me into the kitchen. “These are our family rules. You must memorize them backwards and forwards. When you’re in our house, you follow our rules,” she hissed. I took the papers she thrust at me and flipped through page after page… There were over 800 rules crammed onto those sheets: “The mother is forbidden from contacting the baby. The baby is forbidden from contacting female babies. The new mother is forbidden from eating her fill…” “Rule 1: The mother is forbidden from contacting the baby. This will cultivate the baby’s independence from an early age. Less contact with mom prevents the baby from becoming a mama’s boy.” “Rule 2: The baby is forbidden from contacting female babies. Our family’s precious heir can’t be corrupted by outside influences too early.” “Rule 3: The new mother is forbidden from eating her fill. As the baby’s mother, she must always be vigilant and can’t live too comfortably.” “Rule 4: It’s forbidden to teach the baby to talk. The later a child speaks, the smarter they are. Newton didn’t start talking until he was 4.” “Rule 5: It’s forbidden to put diapers on the baby…” The list went on and on. I nearly fainted. Was I hired to be a nanny for the royal family or something? Barbara was still rambling on, her voice growing hoarse from reciting so many rules. Finally, she shoved the stack of papers at me and told me to read them myself. After chugging several glasses of water, she started complaining again: “I told Lucy not to stay at that fancy postpartum center. What a waste of $5,000 for a month! And now they’ve hired you. Do you know how hard my David works for his money?” “Be honest with me, you must make at least $800 a month, right?” I looked at the old woman’s fierce expression and kept quiet. I was afraid if I told her I made $1,800 a month, she might have a heart attack. I peeked into the bedroom – thankfully Lucy was still asleep and hadn’t heard any of this. Drawing on my professional ethics, I put on my best smile and said: “Ma’am, I’m afraid these rules won’t work. Modern childcare is based on science. Many old practices are actually harmful to the mother and baby’s health!”
Barbara’s face darkened. “Bullshit! Your so-called science is the outdated nonsense. This is how my mother raised me, and my precious grandson deserves even better care.” “Besides, who do you think you are? Just a nanny trying to act smart? Don’t make me fire you right now!” She was really on a power trip. Too bad for her, as a postpartum nanny with 15 years of experience, I’d seen plenty of difficult characters like her before. I kept smiling politely and nodded. “Of course, you’re absolutely right.” Seeing my submissive attitude, a smug look spread across Barbara’s face. I added: “However, if you fire me now, the $300 deposit is non-refundable.” Barbara’s lips trembled. “What? $300? You’ve only been here one day and you’re keeping the deposit? Is there no justice? Why don’t you just rob us outright!” She cursed my entire ancestry, then demanded to speak to my manager. I calmly handed her my manager’s business card from my bag. The manager is actually my son-in-law. He’s very understanding and knows I’m professional and dedicated. Whenever he gets a complaint about me, we end up cursing out the complainant together. Barbara seemed to do some mental calculations and decided firing me wasn’t worth it. She opened her mouth, then closed it without saying anything more. I smiled again and said: “Mrs. Quinn is my client. Ensuring her and the baby’s physical and mental health is my responsibility.” “If you have any issues with me, you’re welcome to file a complaint. You can even request a replacement if you’d like!” Honestly, when dealing with difficult mother-in-laws like her, I’d be more than happy to leave. Barbara’s face grew even darker. Just then, we heard the sound of the door code being entered. David walked in carrying a pack of diapers.
I took the diapers from him, praising him effusively: “Wow, great job picking out the perfect diapers on your first try! You’re clearly a natural at taking care of the baby. Keep up the good work!” “These days, many fathers are even more skilled than mothers at childcare. I’m sure you’ll be amazing too!” David grinned sheepishly and scratched his head. “Sorry Jane, we weren’t prepared before.” Barbara stepped forward and violently snatched the diapers from my hands, flinging them aside. “Didn’t we agree not to use diapers and use cloth nappies instead? Who’s in charge in this house, me or her?” “My friend Susan’s grandson used diapers and ended up with bowed legs! You’ll see what happens if you dare use these!” “This is your first child. I have way more experience than you – just listen to me and you can’t go wrong!” Lucy heard the commotion and came out of the bedroom. “Mom, let’s use the diapers. All the childcare experts say the benefits outweigh any drawbacks. They won’t cause bowed legs, they’re breathable and comfortable, and they prevent diaper rash better than cloth nappies.” “Besides, people used cloth before because that’s all they had. Now that we can afford better options, why not use them? It’s more convenient for everyone.” Barbara snorted. “What do you know? You’ve all been brainwashed by the diaper companies!” David tried to reason with her too: “Mom, we already bought the diapers. Let’s just use them!” Seeing she was losing the argument, Barbara’s beady eyes darted around. Then she dramatically plopped herself on the floor and started wailing. “Your father died so young, leaving me to raise you three kids all alone, working my fingers to the bone… And now that you’re all grown up with your own wings, none of you listen to me anymore…” “Each of those diapers costs at least a dollar. Don’t you know how hard David works for his money?” I could see this circular argument wasn’t going anywhere. I quickly tried to smooth things over. “We can use cloth nappies too. We’ll just need to wash them thoroughly and change them frequently. Babies have such delicate skin – we don’t want them getting diaper rash.” Lucy and I went into the bedroom to discuss our strategy. We agreed that no matter what ended up in the cloth nappy, we’d immediately toss it in the trash. Within half a day, we’d thrown out all the cloth nappies.
I was just about to have David open the new pack of diapers when Barbara stormed in carrying a pile of ancient undershirts and long johns. She angrily cut them into cloth nappy squares and thrust them at me. “Let’s see who dares throw away my things again!” she snarled. I calmly accepted them, but continued with our previous plan. As soon as one got dirty, I’d change it and toss it. By evening, Barbara exploded when she found all the nappies in the trash. “Are you all deaf? Why the hell did you throw them away again?” Most nannies would have quit by now. But she was dealing with me. The only one getting angry would be Barbara. I calmly explained: “Ma’am, even washed cloth nappies can harbor bacteria. It’s safer for the baby to use fresh ones each time!” Barbara fished all the soiled nappies out of the trash. “I washed these squeaky clean. There’s no damn bacteria! You’re talking nonsense!” I replied: “Well, if you’ve washed them so thoroughly, I’ll leave that task to you then!” After just two days, not only did the whole house reek of urine and feces, but Barbara’s hands were red and raw from constant washing. Seeing Lucy come out of the bedroom for some water, Barbara dramatically tossed aside the nappy she was scrubbing: “Back in our day, we’d be out working the fields right after giving birth. Not like you young people nowadays, eating and sleeping all day long. You have it so easy – you can’t even be bothered to wash a few nappies!” She pointedly glared at Lucy as she said this. I had to admit, this mother-in-law was a real piece of work. She insisted on using cloth nappies and washing them herself, but after just two days she was already complaining. Now she was turning her venom on Lucy.
I pulled David aside. “Your wife needs plenty of rest during this postpartum period. She absolutely can’t do any chores. Overexertion now can lead to lifelong health issues.” “For example, she mustn’t cry or get her hands wet with cold water during this time…” David nodded obediently. But when he turned around, he found Lucy in the bathroom washing nappies with cold water. Her hands were already red and chapped. David quickly grabbed Lucy’s hands: “Honey, let me do that! You need to rest!” Lucy wiped away her tears. “It’s okay, I don’t want Mom to work so hard. I’m young, I can handle it. Mom said that back in her day, women would be out working right after giving birth. I feel bad seeing her do all the work…” Hearing his wife say this, David became furious. It was clear his mother had been guilt-tripping Lucy. He stormed over to confront Barbara, who was scrolling through TikTok on the couch: “Mom, why are you making Lucy wash nappies? She just gave birth!” Barbara didn’t even look up. “Oh please, we’ve all been through childbirth. Besides, she doesn’t even have to take care of the baby. Finding some chores to do is good for her!” Her unreasonable attitude made David explode. He grabbed all the cloth nappies and furiously stuffed them into a garbage bag, then tossed the whole thing into the dumpster outside. Seeing her son truly angry, Barbara didn’t dare say anything. As David passed by the master bedroom, he noticed the air conditioning was on and set to cool. Barbara let out an outraged shriek and glared daggers at me. “Are you deaf AND blind? Didn’t I tell you not to use the AC? If my precious grandson catches a cold, will you take responsibility?” Seeing her losing it, I calmly said: “Well, if we can’t use the AC in the bedroom, we should turn off the living room AC too. Otherwise, the cold air might seep into the bedroom and the baby could catch a draft.” Before Barbara could react, I dashed to the living room and switched off the AC. Barbara muttered something under her breath that I couldn’t catch. After that, whenever I saw her, she was either fanning herself while watching TV or scrolling on her phone while sweating profusely. Well, nobody enjoys 86°F weather without AC. But the next day, angry red rashes appeared all over the baby’s face. Lucy anxiously examined the rashes while asking me: “Jane, are the rashes serious? Will they leave scars?” I had just taken out some rash cream from my suitcase when Barbara burst in. “Didn’t I say the mother shouldn’t have contact with the baby? Are you deliberately trying to defy me?”
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