I was searching for people who had fallen out with their parents when I found *Fareedat.
In this story, the 42-year-old single mum of three opens up about the tough decisions that led her to send her mother back home and the struggles of navigating family, distance, and regret.
As told to Adeyinka
I thought bringing my mum to care for my kids was the best decision I could make. After all, she raised me. Who better to look after them while I was thousands of miles away? But now, sitting in my small apartment in Canada, dreading every phone call from home, I realise I made a huge mistake.
When I relocated to Canada last year, leaving my three children behind in Nigeria was the hardest thing I had to do. I had been my children’s primary caregiver for years. Though their father and I were separated and he was still involved, I didn’t trust him to handle their daily care the way I would. Taking them with me wasn’t an option at the time, and the only solution that made sense was getting someone I trusted to stay with them.
I didn’t have many people I could turn to. My siblings and I had grown apart over the years, and extended family wasn’t an option — either because they weren’t interested or because I couldn’t see them taking good enough care of my children. The only person I felt remotely comfortable asking was my mum.
I won’t pretend we had a perfect relationship. Growing up, I had my fair share of issues with her; she was strict, impatient, and not the most affectionate person. But she was my mum, and at the end of the day, she had raised me. I thought that if I explained what I needed and set clear boundaries, she would step up for her grandchildren in a way she couldn’t for me.
I begged her to move from Osun State to Lagos to stay with them. She hesitated at first, saying she was too old to be running around after kids, but I assured her that I would send more than enough money for their upkeep and get someone to help around the house. She eventually agreed, and I felt a sense of relief for the first time since my relocation. I thought I had found the perfect solution. I had no idea the chaos that was about to unfold.
Within weeks, I started getting complaints. At first, they were small things. My mum made them wake up way earlier than they were used to, forcing them to eat meals they didn’t like, or complaining that they spent too much time watching TV. I told them to be patient. “Grandma is old school,” I reminded them. “Just listen to her and don’t give her stress.”
But soon, the complaints became impossible to ignore. My first son, who is 13, started calling me every other day, his voice a mix of frustration and exhaustion. “Mummy, Grandma is always shouting. If I forget to do anything, she won’t just correct me; she’ll insult me for hours.”
My 10-year-old daughter would call crying because Grandma had called her lazy and cursed her out for not washing plates quickly enough. My youngest, just eight, became quieter on the phone, which scared me the most. It was unlike him. I kept asking him what was wrong, but he would just mumble that everything was fine and pass the phone back to his siblings.
The final straw came one evening when my eight-year-old finally admitted what had been happening. He called me crying and said, “Mummy, Grandma didn’t let me eat dinner because she said I was stubborn.”
I tried to stay calm and proceeded to ask why. He said he forgot to greet her when returned from school, and her response was to deny him dinner.
My heart sank. I knew my mum was harsh, but this was beyond what I could tolerate. I was over 10,000 kilometres away, unable to physically intervene, and my child was being denied food over something so small.
I called her immediately, barely able to keep my voice steady and asked what was going on. My mum sighed dramatically and was already defensive. Then she went on a long rant about how my children don’t respect her. She said I’d spoiled them. I remember her saying something along the lines of, “In my time, children knew their place. If you don’t train them well, the world will train them for you.”
I tried to explain to her that discipline didn’t have to come with verbal abuse or punishment that could affect the kids emotionally, but she wasn’t having it. She insisted I was overreacting and that my children would grow up to be “useless” if I didn’t toughen them up.
That was the beginning of months of tension. Every time I tried to have a civil conversation, she dismissed me. She insisted the children were exaggerating things to make her look bad. But I could hear the frustration and sadness in their voices. The love they once had for their grandmother was turning into resentment.
My mum and I started fighting more. She said I was ungrateful and had left my kids for her to raise but was dictating how she should do it. She stopped taking my calls as often, and when she did, she only called to tell me how stubborn my children were and how I was failing as a mother.
One night, my daughter sent me a voice note of my mum saying, “Your mother has spoiled all of you. If I had my way, I’d send you to the village to suffer.” I played the voice note repeatedly, and my chest tightened with each listen.
That was when I knew things had to change. I had left Nigeria thinking I was making the best possible choice for my kids, but I had only put them in another difficult situation. I could no longer prioritise keeping the peace with my mother over their emotional well-being.
So I made the hardest call I have ever had to make. I told her she had to leave.
She didn’t argue. She just said, “Fine. Let me pack my things.” But her tone was cold, and I knew she would never forgive me for it.
At first, I felt relief. But then, the reality of my decision hit me. I had removed my mum from the situation, but I hadn’t solved the bigger problem — who would take care of my kids now?
I have two options: I can beg another family member to move in, or I can send them to live with a friend’s family. But I’m terrified of making another mistake. What if the next person I trust with them is just as bad or worse?
For now, I call them every morning and night, making sure they are okay. But I know this isn’t a long-term solution. I need to figure something out soon.
I just hope I don’t regret my next decision, too.
Struggling with a difficult relationship with your parents? You’re not alone. Read our article, where Nigerians open up about navigating fractured family bonds and the tough choices that come with it.
READ THIS TOO: My Parents Once Ignored Me for a Year
