“Character? They’re freezing!” I shouted as I grabbed blankets to wrap around my boys, who were trembling from the cold.
Alex, ever the pleaser, looked up at me. “Mom, Grandma says this will make us strong.”
“Strong? This is not right,” I snapped, glaring at Eileen. “What are you doing to them?”
Eileen crossed her arms. “They need to toughen up, Darla. The world isn’t kind. You’re coddling them too much.”
My heart broke for my boys, torn between trying to please their grandmother and seeking the comfort they needed. I hugged them tightly, determined to shield them from this harmful treatment.
“We’re leaving,” I said firmly. “Get your things.”
“But Grandma says we need to finish,” Alex started.
“No, honey. We’re done here,” I said gently. “You don’t need to do this to be strong.”
Eileen’s face hardened. “You’re making a mistake. Nathan understands the importance of discipline.”
“Discipline is one thing. This is something else,” I replied, gathering the boys and heading out the door.
On the drive home, I asked the boys about their visits with Grandma. What they told me left me stunned.
“Grandma says it’s training for a tough life,” Ben said. “We have to do exercises and sleep with the windows open, even when it’s really cold.”
Alex added quietly, “If we do everything right, we get extra bread or a blanket.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How had this gone on without me knowing?
When we got home, Nathan was waiting, confused by our early return.
“We need to talk,” I said, unable to hide my anger.
I explained everything—the harsh exercises, the freezing nights, and the rigid ‘discipline’ disguised as care.
To my disbelief, Nathan was conflicted. “That’s how my mom raised me. It’s tough, but it works. It’s not abuse.”
I was floored. “Our kids are getting sick because of this!”
Nathan rubbed his forehead, clearly struggling. “I know it’s not easy, but that’s how I learned to be resilient.”
“They’re just children,” I said, tears welling up. “This isn’t the way to teach strength.”
We stood in tense silence, both of us torn between our different views of parenting. That night, I realized I had a choice to make. I couldn’t let this go on, not if it meant my boys’ well-being was at risk.
I knew what I had to do.