Clara: “My mother keeps feeding my children sugar, no matter what I say”

Tuesday and Thursday are grandma days. My mother loves it. She wants nothing more than to have her granddaughters around her, and to be honest, I'm also very happy that she wants to do that. Two days a week of babysitting and someone who truly adores my children, that's invaluable.

A non-stop parade of sweetness

But there's one thing. A big thing. A sugar thing. I know my mother loves baking, she has since I was little. My childhood always smelled of freshly baked cake and warm apple pie. But with Sophie and Florence, it seems she's taken it to a whole new level. Mini pancakes with powdered sugar, sweet bread, cupcakes with icing, cream pastries, bags of candy appearing out of nowhere on the table. And it's not just one candy after lunch, no, it's a non-stop parade of sweets.

Her face and hands were sticky from the icing

When I pick them up in the evening, they are often hyperactive. Florence runs around the room screaming and Sophie talks so fast that I can barely understand her. Try to have a normal evening routine then. The afternoon nap is a distant dream on grandma days, and to be honest, it leaves me feeling hopeless. Three weeks ago, I reached my limit. I came in and found Florence in the kitchen. Her face and hands were sticky with icing, and there was a half-eaten whipped cream cake on the table. Sophie was on the floor with a bag of wine gums. My mother stood there with a beaming smile, as if this was the most normal scene ever.

“Oh well, they are children. They should enjoy themselves.”

“Mom, what is this?” I asked, trying not to explode immediately. “Did they just eat sugar again?” My mother laughed as if I made a joke. “Oh come on, they are kids. They should enjoy themselves. And do you know how much fun they are having?” “Mom, this can’t happen every time,” I said, as I took a gummy candy from Florine’s hand. “They will be unmanageable soon. No afternoon nap, hyperactive, and then I have to take them home.”

“It's a party at grandma's”

My mother raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it should be fine here. It's a party at grandma's.” That sentence. That one sentence. I've been hearing it echo in my head for weeks now. I kind of understand it, too. Days at grandma's should be fun, special. But what's wrong with a sandwich with cheese or an apple? Why does everything have to be super sweet? And why does my mother think she can create a party by leaving me to clean up the mess?

Isn't it abnormal that they are being stuffed with sugar all day long?

That evening I spoke to my husband about it. He found it difficult. "Are you sure you want to bring this up?" he asked. "It's your mother, she might feel attacked." "But what should I do then?" I said. "It's not normal for them to be stuffed with sugar all day long. Soon they'll have cavities, or worse, a permanent sugar high." He shrugged. "Well, maybe you just need to be clear about it. But yeah, if your mother thinks that 'party' equals sugar..."

I decided to take action myself

The following week I came prepared. On Tuesday, I brought the girls and took a bag with 'alternatives': sliced vegetables, whole grain crackers, a bowl of grapes. I handed it to my mother. “Mom, look, I've brought some snacks. Something healthy for in between, so they don't just eat sugar.”

This is not a party, for no one

She looked at the bag as if I had given her a sack of raw potatoes. “But... why? They actually enjoy making cupcakes together. And they love those little pancakes,” she said. “Yes, I understand that,” I replied, trying to stay calm. “But this can be tasty too. And better for them. Then you won't have to deal with those sugar rushes. They don't even nap in the afternoon, mom. And that's no party, for anyone.”

“It's just part of it”

She sighed. “Fine. I'll take a look at it.” But the tone was set. When I came back that afternoon, there were grapes on the table. Next to a bowl of cupcakes. “Look,” my mother said proudly. “I gave them grapes. But then we baked some more. It's just part of it.” I felt like crying. This was going nowhere. How could I ever make her understand that it wasn't about one or two cupcakes, but about the bigger picture? That 'party' doesn't have to mean sugar?

I had run out of patience

In the weeks that followed, I kept trying. I brought healthy recipes, suggested making fruit skewers together instead of cupcakes, and even my husband tried to say something once. But my mother remained defensive. “At grandma's, it's a party. That's allowed.” The last straw was last Thursday. I had picked up Sophie and Florine, and they were completely over the moon again. Sophie was jumping on the couch, shouting that she never wanted to sleep again. Florine had a whole box of marshmallows in her hands. My patience had run out.

“Oh Clara, don't exaggerate.”

“Mom,” I began. “I’m serious about this. It has to stop. They are totally hyper. This isn’t fun anymore.” My mother looked at me with that look she always had when I didn’t want to finish my plate as a child. “Oh Clara, don’t exaggerate. Kids need to have a bit of fun, don’t they? Why would you want to take that away from them?” “I’m not taking anything away,” I said. “But they need boundaries. And you need to respect that.”

“Do as you please, Clara. But with me, they simply continue to enjoy themselves.”

It was quiet. A long, awkward silence. Then my mother shrugged and walked into the kitchen. “Do what you want, Clara. But they will just keep enjoying themselves with me.” And now I'm sitting at home. The girls have finally gone to bed, after an hour of crying, screaming, and tossing. I feel exhausted. How can I resolve this without pushing my mother away? They are her grandma days, but they are also my children. And there has to be a line somewhere. The next step? I have no idea. But one thing is for sure: I'm not going to let this go.

CLARA