My son married a divorcee with a child, and now he wants me to accept her child as his own grandson. Bashny.Net

Why? soulless Does it eventually become that? Or is there innate coldness and indifference? If we turn to psychologists with this question, as always, we can observe the disunity in their slender ranks. Some will froth at the mouth to prove that even a small child can be influenced by genes, there is nothing to do, this type of character. Others will laugh at them and blame their parents. Like people with whom a child takes an example throughout his childhood.

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Peels We're certainly not psychologists. Therefore, we will not even try to express our opinion. I think people in the comments will still speak out if they have something to say. We were very curious to get acquainted with the story of our reader and her not quite traditional view of things. Looking forward to your story too!

I often hear people say that I am probably the best mother in the world. Don't think about it, it's not an act of self-admiration, it's just that a lot of people around me are aware of the circumstances in which I raised my own child and what we both went through. Now that he's grown up, it's all right. We have a roof over our heads and are financially secure. If it weren’t for one “nuance” that doesn’t seem to suit me alone.

So, earlier, when Myron was still a child, his father was the head of the family. I don't know if you remember, but 20 years ago, when there weren't all these social networks, the psychologists on the Internet, the personal trainers and all that, marriage between a man and a woman was not a public thing. And what he was hiding could only have been known by a few mutual relatives and, at best, the closest friend. I don't know if it's good or not, but it was different back then.



I was a typical housewife, and Myron's dad brought money home, which our family lived on. In addition, he was still drinking and sometimes raised his hand against me and my son. At that time, this life did not cause much surprise to anyone. Everyone's nervous, looking for a coin. Stress, nervousness, uncertainty about the future. I, who had not worked a day in my life, had no idea what could have been different. Until my faithful fell one day on the doorstep, red and clutching his heart.

Doctors were unable to save him from the attack. We just didn't get there. And a young and full of strength man left, dooming our family to a very shaky, financially, existence. For me, it was a real shock. Because I didn't even know where the money was in the house. I had to run through relatives, borrow from each thread on decent wires husband. So I became a widow, a single mother, penniless.



The money, of course, came after a few days of searching. But I can't say I'm very happy about it. There were not many of them, and spending grew every day. Then my sister suggested that I take out a loan, add up some of the money I found and put it into our common cause: to become real estate agents. So I did, having studied the profession from scratch. Having passed all the pitfalls and, in the end, becoming a more or less successful person in this not so easy profession. I still am to this day.

My relationship with my son was not easy. A boy who grew up without a father, of course, is doomed to face all sorts of misunderstandings and difficulties. I have forbidden him many things that I now regret. He left the house a couple of times, three times I picked him up from the police station. And yet, he grew up a normal young man, learned and I am very proud of him. Myron is now able to take care of himself and his family, if not for one moment.



He now lives with a woman who has a child from her first marriage. Also a son, three years old. They did not make a magnificent wedding, just quietly signed, so as not to spend extra money on unnecessary party. We communicate as we do in normal families. But personally, somewhere in the background, I understand perfectly well that my daughter-in-law does not really love my son. I was in her place and I know very well that she does not see anyone around her except her child.

I know that Miron is nothing more than a man to her, a way of obtaining financial benefits for her and her son. So to put it mildly, I don’t judge and condemn at the same time. Because if my son has feelings, no one in the world can convince him otherwise. But why should he pay all the debts of his young wife, work for their welfare with his son? She sits at home and takes care of the baby. Sometimes they cook or wash something. But only sometimes. And often it is Miron who after work has to do household chores.



Moreover, I am also required to treat the son of my daughter-in-law as a grandson. Come to visit with gifts, to squeeze out something like joy when he comes out in new expensive clothes bought with my son’s money. I'm not close to it. It's someone else's child to me. Yeah, he's still very small. Yeah, honey. But my real baby is standing in front of me, and I'm pretty sure he was the one who washed all the dishes half an hour before I arrived. Because I taught him to spread out a towel and put dishes on it.

I know some people might call me just a grumpy grandmother who doesn't understand that there are no other people's children. And the father is not the one who conceived, but the one who raised. But now I take all these rules and sayings as an adult. And I guess who's making them up. Women who need the benefit of their man first. Because apart from sayings and themselves, they have nothing else to offer this man. At least that's how I see it.



I just want to say that I miss the past days. It was hard, I can't hide it. In places, unbearable. But not everyone has a drinking problem. There were also normal working men and women. And today, everyone is acting like a fool. All fake, live two lives. We used to take pictures with a film camera and they showed our real faces and emotions. And today, any woman can take 1,000 photos on her phone, post them, and each of them has only an artificial smile and nothing more. Aren’t you disgusted by this?