Heather, You Picked the Wrong Grandma
My son got married to Heather five years ago. She had a son from a previous relationship, and I welcomed him like my own grandson. A year later, they had a baby together, and I truly believed we were becoming a real family.
But things changed.
At first, my son would call and vent — little things.
“Heather’s worried about money,”
he’d say.
“She wants me to find a better job.”
I understood that. Raising kids isn’t cheap.
But soon, the calls started shifting.
He began to hint that Heather thought I should help out more.
Then it became a demand.
“Mom… Heather thinks you should sell the land.”
Now, let me tell you about that land.
I’m not rich. I’m retired. I have health issues that make working impossible.
The only income I have is from leasing out my farmland — just enough to pay the bills and keep food in the fridge.
That land is all I’ve got.
It’s been in our family for generations.
So I calmly said,
“No, sweetheart. That land stays.”
A week later, Heather called me herself.
Her voice was syrupy sweet, like I wouldn’t notice the manipulation underneath.
“Mom, PLEASE sell the land. We need the money! We’re drowning here!”
This… coming from the same woman who had posted a photo on Instagram just the day before holding a Birkin bag in one hand and a \$9 matcha latte in the other.
She had on designer heels and a caption that read,
“Manifesting luxury ”
I took a deep breath.
“Heather, you listen to me now.”
“You want me to sell my land — the only thing keeping me afloat — while you’re out there playing Kardashian in a small town?”
She stammered,
“That’s not fair, I—”
“Oh, it’s perfectly fair. You see, I watched you waltz into my son’s life with your hand out, and now you want to rob me of my future too? No, ma’am. Not today.”
She went quiet.
“If you’re struggling financially, stop buying handbags that cost more than your rent. And if you think I’ll go broke so you can take a yacht selfie next summer, think again.”
I hung up.
A week later, my son called again. He apologized.
He said Heather was “rethinking her priorities.”
I didn’t say much. I just smiled to myself.
Because Heather learned something that day:
You don’t mess with Grandma.
Especially not one with a deed in her name and a spine made of steel.