Imagine being asked to babysit your cousins during the holidays, but this time you just can’t do it. You’ve had enough, and you decide to say no. But what happens when your family gets disappointed and the guilt starts to eat at you? Was it the right decision, or did you cross a line? Stick around because this is one holiday story you won’t want to miss.

Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin with this one. I’ve been going back and forth in my mind about whether I was being selfish or if I was actually in the right. But I guess it all started when Christmas was just around the corner.

A bit of background: I’m 18, and I come from a pretty big family. My mom is one of five siblings, so every year Christmas is this huge family affair. All my aunts and uncles come over, and we spend the day at my grandparents’ house. It’s always loud, chaotic, and honestly kind of exhausting. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but as the oldest cousin by a few years, I’ve always been the one they look to for help with the younger ones.

The kids in my family are mostly under 10, and you know how it is—one second they’re fighting, the next they’re crying, and you’re the one who has to step in and break it up. It’s not always the worst thing in the world, but it gets old fast.

Last year, I was a little more okay with it. I helped out with the kids, watched over them while the adults hung out in the living room. But this year, I was just done. I had been working my butt off in school, trying to keep up with all the assignments and deadlines. On top of that, I was stressed about college applications. Christmas was supposed to be my break—a time to relax. All I wanted was a few days to do whatever I wanted, catch up on sleep, hang out with my friends, maybe even have some alone time for once.

But, of course, it’s never that simple.

About two weeks before Christmas, my mom brought up the subject casually, like it was nothing.

“You know, you’re going to have to help out with the cousins this year again, right?” she said, like it was already decided.

I immediately tensed up. I didn’t want to say anything at first, but I could feel that familiar weight of responsibility creeping in.

“What do you mean ‘help out’?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Well, you know, they’re going to need someone to watch them while we’re all hanging out. You’re the oldest, so it’s your job to make sure they’re all okay. It’s tradition.”

Tradition. It always comes down to that word, doesn’t it? As if I have to do something just because we’ve always done it.

I mean, sure, but I was kind of planning on just relaxing this year. I’ve been working really hard lately and I’m kind of burned out.

I said, trying to make my case, but already I could tell this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. She didn’t even seem to hear me.

“Well, you know we’ve always counted on you. Your cousins are looking forward to it.”

And right then it hit me—they were always looking forward to it. They expected me to be the one to entertain them, the one to keep the peace when things got out of hand, the one who had to be the responsible adult.

I had spent years being the go-to babysitter for all of them, but this year I just didn’t have it in me. I felt guilty even thinking about saying no, but the thought of spending yet another Christmas stuck babysitting—especially when I had been craving some downtime—made my stomach turn.

So after some internal debate, I decided to say something.

“Look, Mom, I love my cousins, but I really don’t think I can do it this year. I need a break. I’ve been working so hard, and I just need some time to myself. Can you ask someone else?”

She went quiet for a second. It felt like an eternity.

“What do you mean ask someone else?” she finally asked, her tone sharp.

“I mean, I’m just not up for it this year. I want to relax, not be stuck watching the kids the whole time. I’ve done it before, and I just don’t have the energy this time around.”

She stared at me like I had just said something outrageous.

“You know that’s not how it works, right? You’re the oldest cousin. It’s your job to help out. It’s Christmas, for God’s sake.”

And that’s when it started—the guilt. My mom’s disappointment hung in the air like a cloud. It was clear she didn’t understand. She didn’t see how much I needed this time for myself. All she saw was the tradition, the expectation, and how I was letting it all fall apart by not fulfilling my role.

I tried to explain more, but it felt pointless. She was already upset, and I could see it in her face.

“I just don’t think it’s fair to always ask me to do it. I need to focus on myself this time. Please understand.”

She didn’t say anything else after that. Instead, she walked out of the room, leaving me there feeling like the world’s worst daughter.

The days leading up to Christmas felt off. Every time I passed my mom, she would shoot me a look like she was trying to gauge whether I’d change my mind. I could feel the tension between us building, and when my dad joined in saying, “Your mom’s right, you really should help out this year,” I felt a wave of guilt wash over me.

But then I reminded myself this was supposed to be my time. I had been so stressed out with everything, and this holiday was supposed to be my escape. My mental health was already in a fragile state, and being stuck babysitting all day wasn’t going to help.

I wasn’t a child anymore. I didn’t owe it to anyone to give up all my free time just because they’d always relied on me.

Yet every time someone brought it up, I felt like I was being painted as the villain. My mom would tell me how much everyone was counting on me, especially my younger cousins. I knew she was trying to guilt-trip me, but hearing it out loud still hurt. She made it sound like it was some kind of moral obligation I couldn’t back out of.

On Christmas Eve, it all came to a head. My aunt called me asking if I was still on for babysitting the next day. She said something like, “The kids are so excited to see you, and you’re really the best with them.”

I could tell she was trying to flatter me into saying yes, but it didn’t work.

I took a deep breath and said, “I’m really sorry, but I can’t do it this year. I’ve been feeling really burned out, and I just need to focus on myself this time.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then my aunt’s voice changed. She sounded disappointed, almost hurt.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to figure something else out. It’s a shame though.”

Her words stung, and suddenly I felt like the most selfish person on Earth. I just wanted to make everything easier, to do what was expected of me, but every time I tried to help, it felt like I was losing myself in the process.

I was starting to question if maybe I was just being a spoiled brat. Maybe I should have just sucked it up and gone along with it.

But then, just as I was about to spiral into that familiar place of self-doubt, I remembered something that I’d been trying to avoid: Why do I have to be the one to do this every year?

I love my cousins, but I wasn’t their babysitter. I wasn’t a robot programmed to just do what everyone asked. I had my own life, my own responsibilities, and this year I needed to put myself first.

Still, when I walked into the kitchen on Christmas morning, the atmosphere felt tense. My mom was there, looking like she had been holding back something all morning. She greeted me with a forced smile, but I could see the disappointment lingering in her eyes.

“Morning,” I said, trying to keep it casual.

“Morning,” she replied, her tone flat. “Your cousins are going to be so sad you’re not helping out today. They really look up to you.”

I just nodded, not really knowing how to respond. I had already said my piece, and I wasn’t going to apologize for wanting a break, but I couldn’t help but feel the weight of her words.

Later that day, when we all gathered around the Christmas tree, I saw my cousins running around, laughing, playing games with the adults. And in that moment, something shifted inside me.

There they were—all having a great time—and I realized they weren’t as dependent on me as I thought. In fact, they were perfectly happy without me being their full-time babysitter. My younger cousins were entertained by everyone else, and the family seemed to get along just fine.

It was like I had built up this huge fear that if I wasn’t there to take charge, everything would fall apart. But it didn’t.

That realization felt like a weight lifted off my chest. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who could handle things. Maybe it wasn’t just my responsibility to keep everyone entertained.

But just as I was starting to feel a sense of relief, my mom pulled me aside. She didn’t yell, but her voice was firm.

“I’m just disappointed, that’s all,” she said quietly. “I know you’re stressed, but sometimes family comes first.”

I wanted to argue, to tell her that I was doing what was best for my mental health, but instead, I just nodded.

“I know,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t the resolution I wanted, but it was the reality we had to live with.

At the end of the day, I learned something important: Saying no isn’t always easy, especially when it means disappointing the people you love. But sometimes, it’s necessary to take care of yourself first.

So, was I right to say no? Maybe. Was it hard? Absolutely.

And will I be babysitting next Christmas? Well… we’ll see.

Thanks for reading this story about a holiday dilemma that’s all too real. Sometimes family traditions need to change, and that’s okay.