Sasha: “My daughter is very attached to grandma, it bothers me”

I sat with my head in my hands

Yada's words were still echoing in my head. “Grandma is much nicer than you.” She hadn't even shouted it, just stated it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. But it felt like a knife in my back. What was I doing wrong? I tried so hard to do my best, but apparently, that wasn't enough. Of course, we were also in a bizarre situation. Still, it felt wrong. Didn't she see all that I was doing for her?

Being a single mother was never the plan

When I became pregnant with Yada, I thought Martin and I would do it together. But as soon as that pregnancy test turned positive, everything changed. He couldn't handle it. “I'm not ready for a child,” he had said. And then he was gone. No phone calls, no messages, nothing. Sometimes I wonder if he even remembers he has a daughter.

Fortunately, I had my mother, Rita

She has been there since the moment Yada was born. When I was exhausted from the night feedings, she was ready to take over for a while. When Yada started to walk, it was my mother who encouraged her. And now, eight years later, she is still my rock. We literally do it together. We seem like full partners, full parents. Yada had two parents, but no father.

The first example that comes to mind is how my mother comes by every day before school time

I often start working early, and my mother makes sure that Yada is ready on time with her hair neatly braided and her lunchbox filled. Sometimes I wonder if Yada even realizes how much effort I put in behind the scenes to keep everything running. For her, grandma is the one who takes her to school every morning, who always has time to listen to her stories.

And then there was that time when Yada got sick on a day when I really couldn't leave my work

My mother immediately got in the car and was there within ten minutes. She stayed all day, made fresh soup, played games with Yada, and made sure I didn't have to worry. When I got home, I found them together on the couch, Yada's head against grandma's shoulder. The scene was so sweet that I almost had to cry. But it also hurt, as if I had taken second place in my own family.

The third example is almost every Sunday, when Yada voluntarily wants to go to my mother's to stay over

They both love it. My mother picks her up, makes pancakes, and takes her to the petting zoo. I'm glad that Yada has a grandmother who is so involved, but sometimes it feels like I'm an outsider in my own family. But of course, the truth is: I could never do without her.

Last week I was tired

Not just tired, but the kind of exhaustion that only work, household chores, and the feeling that you have to carry everything on your own can cause. Yada had just thrown her schoolbag in the middle of the hallway, as always. “Yada, how many times do I have to tell you to clean up your bag?” I said, perhaps a bit too harshly.

She looked at me with an expression I didn't recognize

“Grandma would never get that angry,” she said. I felt a burning in my stomach. “What do you mean by that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice under control. “Well, grandma is just much nicer. I can do anything I want with her,” she said with a shrug. I didn't know what to say for a moment. The rest of the evening went by in silence. When she finally went to bed, I sat on the couch and the tears came. The words kept haunting my mind. Was I too strict? Too frustrated? Or just not enough?

The next day, when Yada was at school, I called my mother

“Mom, we need to talk,” I said, and a moment later she was sitting with me at the kitchen table. I told her what Yada had said. My mother listened patiently, nodded, and then said: “Sas, I understand how you feel. But you know what? You are her mother. You need to set boundaries, make rules. She comes to me for fun. It's different.”

“But what if she likes me less because of that?” I asked

“What if I'm always the bad guy?” I didn't want that at all. My mother took my hand. “She loves you, Sasja. I'm sure of that. But you're tired, darling. Maybe you should take more care of yourself. You do so much, and I'm not here to replace you, but to help you.” Her words gave me some peace, but they didn't dissolve the feeling. I want Yada to see me as her safe haven too, just like she does with grandma. But how do I combine that with all the responsibilities and the reality of being a single parent?

That evening, Yada snuggled up to me on the couch

She sensed it very well. “Sorry, mom,” she suddenly said. “I didn’t mean to be mean. You are sweet too.” I wrapped my arm around her. “It’s okay, Yada. I know you didn’t mean it that way.” But deep down I know that this conflict won’t just disappear. Something has to change, because this feeling of inadequacy gnaws at me. Maybe even more so because I am a single parent? How do I make sure Yada understands that I love her as much as grandma does, without losing myself in everything that needs to be done?

SASHA