Setting boundaries is necessary in any relationship, but we frequently forget how important we are to other people to save time or energy. Being there can mean more than we think, especially when kids are around.
This story is about how the smallest voices may sometimes say the most important things and how to find a balance between caring for yourself and others.
A text message on a Wednesday afternoon was the start of it all. My boyfriend requested me to take care of his 7-year-old son over the weekend. It was written in a simple, casual way, like it was a tiny favor. Before I answered, I did glance at the message for a while.
This kind of event had happened before. But it was probably the sixth or seventh weekend in the last three months. I liked his kid. She was smart, humorous, and full of ideas and questions. I was used to our movie nights, the way she made cookies everywhere, and the way she would braid my hair while we spoke about school. But I had been feeling fatigued lately. I was tired in both my body and my mind, as if a heavy weight was starting to settle in.
It used to feel like a nice way to get to know someone, but suddenly it felt like labor for free. There were no conversations about it, no thank yous, and no meaningful check-ins to see if I had time to help. There were instead quiet expectations and a growing sense of duty.
I knew I had to say something. It wasn’t fun, but it had to be done.
When he called later that night to confirm the drop-off time, I told him about it in a roundabout way. I told him I liked being with her, but I was starting to feel like I was being pushed into a role without being asked first. I informed them that I needed some clarity and fairness if this kind of thing was going to happen all the time. Not necessarily money, but an understanding that I was giving up time and energy and that it wasn’t something to be taken for granted.
He was quiet for a time. He then said, “Okay, I get it.” We can discuss about making a deal.
He didn’t utter a word. But the way he said it made me think he was surprised or maybe even a little let down. And it stuck with me.
Things were different on Friday night when he dropped her off. He was nice, but not too friendly. There wasn’t any small talk like there usually is. He just said, “She has her toothbrush and pajamas.” I’ll get her on Sunday night. I instantly reminded him of what we had talked about. He nodded and replied, “Yeah, I remember,” but he didn’t quite look me in the eye.
There was a peculiar heaviness in the air when he went, like something had changed between us even though we hadn’t talked. I tried to get rid of it. We were going to have pizza and watch a movie with his kid that she had been requesting to see for weeks. I grinned and produced my best “let’s have fun” expression, and we kept going.
That night, after we watched the movie and she put on her pajamas, I was on the couch with a book while she played in her room. It was peaceful, like the peace that comes after a full day of athletics. I was finally starting to feel better when I heard her come.
She brought her teddy bunny into the room. It had seen better days because it had been loved so much. At first, she didn’t say anything. The lamp’s soft light only partially lighted her face, and she stared at me with those serious, deep-set eyes that youngsters have when they’re thinking about things that are greater than they are.
I smiled and said, “Hey, can’t sleep?”
She nodded, but then she stopped right away. And then she said it.
She whispered softly, “You don’t have to watch me because of the money.” “I like it when you’re here.” It feels safe.
I stopped.
Not because she said something wrong, but because what she said was so accurate.
She couldn’t have heard what I said to her father. She wasn’t supposed to know any of this. But she had figured out how to do something. It’s possible that my energy has changed. She might have heard part of a call. Or maybe she just knew it, which I think is more likely. When kids feel weak, they are quite good at picking up on shifts in emotional currents.
I carefully put my book down and opened my arms to her. She walked right into them without thinking. I held her close and scented her hair. I could feel her heart beating against my chest.
At that moment, all the anger and fury I had been feeling, all the fights I had been having with myself about work, justice, and time, were gone. Not because those things weren’t significant, but because she believed in him.
This tiny boy didn’t care about following the rules or being fair. She didn’t think of me as a caregiver or a substitute. She thought of me as someone who made her feel better and helped her feel like the world was a little more stable when it was falling apart.
I felt different that weekend.
I didn’t give up my limits; I still think it’s important to talk honestly and with respect about how much time and emotional work you do. But I also started to see how strong it is to be there. Being pleasant, transparent, and consistent can mean more than we think, especially for kids.
When you show a youngster that you’re there for them and support them, even in modest ways, you give them a lot of value. You are making them feel safe. You’re teaching that love doesn’t have to be big and spectacular all the time. Sometimes all you have to do is be there when they look up.
And sometimes the most essential things are said by the quietest people. They teach us that love, safety, and kindness are more important than any amount of money or time we could ever have. Giving someone a safe place to stay, even for a weekend, is one of the most important and relaxing gifts you can provide.