Our family cherishes Christmas, escaping to the islands for four years with my husband Ethan, Maddie, 7, and Noah, 5, to relax before holiday chaos. This trip felt perfect until we got home. Our house was a mess—eggs dripped down the walls, shells covered the porch, and my festive wreath was slimed. “What’s this?” Ethan said, stunned. Maddie asked, “Mom, who did it?” I had no answer, but fury grew. We’re kind neighbors—I bake for new folks, plan block parties, always help out. This felt like a targeted attack. Noah said, “Maybe birds?” I smiled for him, but inside, I was livid. Someone had it out for us.
Ethan found a note by the door: “For what you took from me.” What did that mean? After bedtime, we checked our security camera. A hooded figure hurled eggs with intent, not mischief. “This is serious,” Ethan said. “No kid’s prank.” Then I recognized the figure’s posture, the way they moved. My stomach dropped—it was my mom. The next day, I drove to her house, heart pounding. She greeted me warmly, but I said, “Why did you egg our house, Mom?” Her face fell. “What?” she stammered. “I saw you on camera,” I said. She sighed, admitting, “It was Gloria’s fault.” Ethan’s mom had called, claiming she joined our island trip, bonding with the kids, while Mom was left alone.
“That’s a lie,” I said. “Gloria wasn’t there. She wanted to upset you.” Mom collapsed on the couch, tears falling. “I felt so left out, Ellie,” she said. “I lost it.” Her pain hit me hard—I’d been so caught up with kids and work, I hadn’t noticed her growing isolation. Her calls were short, her visits stopped, and I’d ignored it. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I said softly, “but I’m sorry for neglecting you.” She apologized, offering to pay for cleanup. “We’ll fix it together,” I said, “and fix us.” We hugged, easing years of strain. Mom came over, and we scrubbed the egg off, each swipe healing old wounds. The house sparkled again.
Over grilled cheese that night, I told Ethan, “Gloria lied to Mom.” He called her, demanding truth, while I invited Mom for New Year’s. She showed up with treats and a dazzling dress, delighting Maddie and Noah. We toasted under fireworks, feeling whole. Later, we met Gloria, who admitted her lie came from holiday loneliness. “Why not visit Mom?” I asked. She promised a tea party to mend things. Now, our moms bake together weekly, mahjong buddies. Eggs turn my stomach, but this mess brought us closer, teaching me to keep family first.
