I Am 61 Years Old, Took Care of My Grandchild in the City for 6 Years, and Asked My Daughter-in-Law for 10 Million VND a Month. For 6 Years I Was Criticized by Relatives and Neighbors as “Greedy for Money.” Sometimes My Daughter-in-Law Looked at Me With Unhappy Eyes—But Before Returning to My Hometown, I Did Something That Left My Children Stunned…

“What kind of grandmother takes care of her grandchild and still demands payment? That’s no different from a hired maid!” — for the past six years, I have heard this sentence until my ears went numb.

I am a 61-year-old woman who left the countryside to move to the city and take care of my grandson from the day he was born. From the very beginning, I spoke directly to my son and daughter-in-law:

“Each month, I need 10 million. Consider it payment for my effort, my medicine, and my living expenses in the city.”

Hearing that, my daughter-in-law was a bit taken aback, but eventually nodded in agreement. I knew what she was probably thinking: “What kind of mother-in-law is so calculating?” My son kept silent, most likely feeling awkward. But I didn’t care. Those who have never lived through sleepless nights holding a crying baby, juggling diapers and feedings, cannot understand. I had been a mother once, I had struggled too. Now, in my old age, with my body weakening, if I didn’t have that monthly support, I wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Every month, right on time, my daughter-in-law gave me 10 million. When neighbors and relatives back in my village heard about it, they criticized me harshly:

“They asked you to come help, that’s already a blessing, and yet you demand money? You’re treating them like strangers!”

“Don’t be so greedy for money, or your daughter-in-law will end up hating you.”

I heard it so often that I grew used to it. People are always quick to judge. They don’t live my life; they don’t know that I still had to send money back to the countryside to take care of our farmland, to buy medicine for my weak husband, and sometimes to support my youngest daughter who still hadn’t found stable work. Life in the city is expensive—I wasn’t just sitting around living off my daughter-in-law. I cooked, cleaned, and cared for the child, waking up at 5 a.m. to make porridge, doing laundry, and rocking the baby to sleep at night. For all that effort, 10 million a month seemed fair to me.

And in truth, I had another reason, one I never told anyone.

Just like that, six years passed. The boy is now in first grade. I have grown older, my hair has turned gray, and my back aches constantly. I told my son and daughter-in-law:

“From now on, I will return to the countryside. At my age, I no longer have the strength. You two must take care of your child yourselves.”

They were surprised but agreed. On the day I left, I quietly gathered the savings I had put aside for six years—895 million VND—placed it in an envelope, and handed it to my son and daughter-in-law.

That day, the police came to the house. My son and daughter-in-law panicked, hurriedly explaining that their elderly mother had suddenly handed them nearly one billion dong. The authorities suspected the origin of the money. I, however, calmly sipped my tea and simply smiled:

“Don’t worry, officers. This is clean money—saved up by me.”

Everyone looked at me as though I had done something unbelievable. Then I slowly explained: Over the six years I spent in the city, aside from the 10 million my daughter-in-law gave me each month, I hardly spent anything. I ate with the family, and I had brought my clothes from home. Occasionally, I bought some medicine or snacks, spending only a few hundred thousand. Each month, I still had over 9 million left, which I deposited into the bank.

My daughter-in-law’s eyes widened: “Mother… you didn’t spend anything? All these years you lived so frugally?”
I smiled gently: “I’m used to it. Life in the countryside is the same. Besides, I thought of it as my payment, but in truth, I was setting it aside for you and the child’s future.”

In fact, every time I accepted money from my daughter-in-law, I felt both firm and a little sad. I knew she disliked it. I knew the neighbors gossiped. But in my heart, I had a plan: instead of spending, I saved it, thinking of the future. The young ones earn money only to see it disappear into houses, cars, milk, and diapers. Only the elderly truly understand the value of “small savings building into something greater.”

895 million—that was the amount I had gathered from the so-called “greed for money” people criticized me for. And yet, when I placed it on the table, my children couldn’t believe their eyes. My son hugged my shoulders, his eyes glistening with tears: “Mother… we misjudged you.” My daughter-in-law also broke down, crying as she apologized. She admitted that all these years she had both respected and feared me, thinking I was calculating, when in reality I was doing it all for the family.

I only waved my hand: “Enough. I’m old now; I don’t need apologies. What matters is that you learn to save and raise my grandchild well.”

After verifying everything, the police simply smiled and said: “You’re truly disciplined. Few people these days can save like you.” Then they left, leaving my whole family sitting there in silence.

Part 3: An Open Ending – The Final Lesson

From that day on, my daughter-in-law completely changed her attitude. She treated me with more care, no longer awkward in her words. Neighbors who heard the story widened their eyes, half-believing, half-doubting. They no longer mocked me. Some even admitted: “That woman is wise—she knows how to think ahead.”

As for me, I felt light in my heart. Not because of the money, but because my children finally understood their mother’s heart. I never resented being misunderstood, because in life, people always judge by appearances. They saw me asking for money and assumed I was greedy. But they never realized that hidden in that “greed” was foresight, and a quiet, enduring love.

895 million may not be an enormous fortune, but to me, it was proof of patience and of the belief that if one lives with discipline and thinks for the next generation, then one’s effort will not be in vain.

The day I carried my suitcase back to the countryside, my grandchild ran up and hugged me tightly: “Grandma, please don’t go.” I wiped my tears and softly said: “Grandma will always be here, in your heart. Whenever you miss me, just call.”

As the bus pulled away from the city, I looked out the window, my heart a mix of sadness and joy. Sad to leave my grandchild, but glad I had fulfilled my responsibility. I don’t know how my children will use that money in the future, but I hope they understand: money is only a tool; the important thing is to know how to save it and how to use it wisely.

And my story—perhaps people will continue to talk about it. But I no longer care. I only smile, thinking to myself: sometimes, being called “greedy for money” isn’t so bad—as long as deep inside, I know I have lived with love and with a clear conscience.