My mother-in-law demanded $600 for walking and feeding our dog while I was in labor, I agreed, but with one condition

When I came home from the hospital cradling my newborn son in my arms, exhausted but glowing with joy, I spotted a note on our kitchen table. For a moment, I thought it might be a warm welcome home from my mother-in-law. Instead, it was an invoice—for $600. Apparently, she was charging us for watching our golden retriever, Rich, while I was in labor. My husband said he’d “talk to her,” but I already had a much better plan.

A few days before going into labor, I was curled up on the couch trying to breathe through the relentless ache in my lower back. Rich lay beside me, his big brown eyes filled with concern as if he sensed what was coming. I stroked his fur and called out to my husband, Jake, who was in the kitchen making himself a sandwich.

“Jake,” I called, my voice strained, “we need to figure out what to do with Rich while I’m in the hospital.”

Jake, ever the optimist, smiled and said, “Don’t worry. Mom loves Rich. She’ll handle it.” That was always his way—solve things with quick answers and assume everything would magically fall into place. I wanted to scream. But instead, I sighed and said, “Just make sure she knows it’s only for a couple of days.”

Later that night, Jake called his mom, Abigail. She immediately agreed to watch Rich. “She was happy to help,” Jake said, proud of himself. “Problem solved.”

We left for the hospital the next morning. Rich gave me one last wag of his tail before I kissed his furry head goodbye. “Be good for Grandma, okay?”

Abigail was at the door, smiling sweetly. “I just wish I could be at the hospital,” she said, her tone a little too wistful.

“We appreciate the help,” I replied. “But we really want it to be just us.”

She gave us her usual passive-aggressive smile. “Oh, I understand. You kids and your modern ways.”

Labor wasn’t pretty. It was long, exhausting, and excruciating. But when my son was placed in my arms, I forgot all of it. Jake and I wept as we stared at this perfect little human we’d brought into the world. We spent three days in a haze of love, sleeplessness, and awe.

Finally, it was time to go home. Jake called his mom to let her know we were on our way. “Take your time settling in,” she told him. “I’ll come by in a few days to meet the baby.”

How thoughtful, I thought. Maybe she really was trying.

Then we walked into the kitchen.

There it was—a note. Folded, centered on the table. My heart fluttered as I imagined sweet words like “Welcome home, proud parents!” I unfolded it with one hand while rocking my baby in the other.

Instead, I read: “Please send $600 for watching Rich. My time has value. Payment info included.”

I blinked. Then blinked again. Nope, it was real. She was charging us—charging me—for caring for our dog while I gave birth to her grandson.

“Jake,” I called, my voice sharp.

He came in, took one look at the note, and groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“She wants to be paid for dog-sitting while I was pushing a human out of my body,” I said, waving the note.

“I’ll talk to her,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“No,” I said, eyes narrowing. “I’ll take care of it.”

A week later, Abigail arrived to meet her grandson. She cooed over him, gushed about his nose, his tiny fingers, how much he looked like Jake. For a moment, she was the loving grandmother. Until she handed the baby back and said, “So, when can I expect payment?”

I smiled. “Absolutely. But first, there’s just one small condition.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Condition?”

I pulled out a folder from the desk. Inside was a carefully documented list of every favor, financial or otherwise, that Jake and I had done for her over the past three years. I had spent the past few days tracking it all.

“I figured if we’re going to start charging for family help, I should invoice you too.”

She hesitated before reaching for the papers.

“Let’s see,” I began, flipping through. “Helping you move last year instead of you paying movers? $800. Helping pay for your car repairs when your transmission failed? $1,200. Babysitting your neighbor’s kids at your request while you had a spa day? That’s about $600. Oh, and I didn’t include holiday dinners, gifts, or the countless rides Jake gave you.”

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. “This is insane,” she said. “You can’t seriously charge me for things family does for each other.”

I crossed my arms. “Exactly. Family helps each other. Without invoices.”

She stammered. “But watching Rich took time. I rearranged my whole week!”

“And I rearranged my whole life to give you a grandson,” I replied calmly. “We’re more than even.”

She turned bright red. Without another word, she stormed out, slamming the door so hard it startled the baby.

Jake, who had been listening from the kitchen, came over, hugged me, and kissed my cheek. “You’re incredible.”

I laughed. “She picked the wrong new mom to mess with.”

I sat down on the couch with the baby, Rich trotting over and resting his head on my knee. As I stroked his fur, watching my sleeping son, I felt peace settle over me. Abigail hadn’t apologized, but she never brought up that $600 again.

And if she ever does? That folder’s still sitting on the desk. I’ll be ready.