Some days, I feel like “working mom” is just code for walking wallet.
I’m Sherin, 32. I work 60 hours a week, raise two kids under 7, and all I wanted for Mother’s Day… was one nice dinner for the moms in our lives.
So we booked Bellini’s. I wore a dress I hadn’t touched in months. We budgeted tight, but it felt worth it.
Until we walked in… and saw a table for 14.
Not just our moms—but Charlize, my mother-in-law, and her entire entourage: her sisters, their grown kids, someone’s baby, and even her bridge partner.
My heart sank.
Charlize raised her wine glass and said:
“Our generous hostess is here! She’s covering everything tonight—promotion perks, right?”
I stood frozen.
Lucas tried to intervene, but Charlize steamrolled over him with a laugh: “Relax! Sherin’s a big shot now!”
By dessert, I knew I couldn’t cover it. The bill? $1,250.47.
I opened the check, my hands shaking.
Charlize leaned in. “Oh, honey, don’t act shocked. It’s just money. And we’re family.”
That was it.
I stood up, smiled sweetly, and raised my voice.
“Actually, I only reserved a table for four. So if anyone here would like to split the cost, I’ll happily cover my mom’s meal—and Lucas’s.”
The table fell dead silent.
Aunt Trish’s fork dropped. Charlize’s wine froze mid-air.
“I didn’t agree to this!” someone whispered.
“Well,” I said, pulling out my card and handing it to the server, “then I suggest everyone else figure out how to cover their share.”
Charlize turned red. “Sherin, you’re embarrassing me!”
“No,” I replied. “You did that when you assumed I’d bankroll your circus.”
I paid for my mom, my husband, and myself. Left a generous tip.
Then I walked out—without looking back.
💬 Final Thought:
Sometimes the loudest voice at the table doesn’t deserve the check.
And sometimes, the real Mother’s Day gift… is finally choosing yourself.
