A Kentucky dad’s life changed forever when he and his wife welcomed quintuplets into the world. However, he never anticipated the harsh critique and hate that would come as a result of his parenting choices.
Parenthood keeps moms and dads busier than full-time employment, and couples often have to learn new skills on the job. No matter how hard they try, they never get everything right, and the job becomes even more challenging when there is more than one child.
However, the joy of being a parent makes all the sleepless nights and sacrifices worthwhile. Sadly, people don’t see everything moms and dads do for their little ones, and onlookers can be brutal.
THE HAPPY FAMILY OF SEVEN
Jordan Driskell and his wife Briana adored their five beautiful children, Zoey, Dakota, Hollyn, Asher, and Gavin. Raising quintuplets was a significant life adjustment, but the couple enjoyed every minute.
Many online users weren’t impressed with Jordan’s parenting choices, and they made their opinions abundantly clear.
They had to come up with various creative parenting techniques to ensure their brood was taken care of and safe. Managing their household required full-time attention, and dad Jordan was always eager to spend time with his little ones.
STRUGGLES WHEN LEAVING THE HOUSE
Taking the children for an outing in the park or a fun day of entertainment might sound like a great idea, but Jordan knew it was never easy and always came with a few concerns.
Leaving the house with all five kids was a task worthy of a gold medal. Jordan and his wife initially used a six-seater stroller to help their brood get around. However, they changed their style and opted for something less bulky and ridiculous.
THEIR CHOSEN PARENTING STYLE
The loving parents started using a leash whenever they left the house with all five kids—and it worked for them! The proud dad shared:
“Kids are so curious — they want to run off and explore. For our own peace of mind and sanity, we use a leash. It also allows us to leave the house and do fun stuff as a family without being stressed.”
Jordan Driskell and his five kids. | Source: Tiktok.com/drixxleman
THE DAD’S REASON FOR USING A LEASH
Jordan provided another justification for using a leash, noting that his kids always wanted to walk when they were in crowded places. It was a safety concern, and the leash prevented any of the children from getting lost.
The simple tool allowed the kids much-desired freedom but also gave the parents a level of control. However, when Jordan shared a video in 2022, he quickly realized everyone didn’t approve of his parenting style.
The kids were enjoying a fun day at the aquarium with a twist—they were on a leash. The footage went viral, and netizens didn’t hold back.
Jordan Driskell and his five kids. | Source: Tiktok.com/drixxleman
CRITICAL COMMENTS
Many online users weren’t impressed with Jordan’s parenting choices, and they made their opinions abundantly clear. Commenters questioned his actions, and one person indicated he should have had fewer kids if he wasn’t up for the challenge:
“This is deeply disturbing. Teach your kids to behave so you don’t have to use a dog leash. Not cool.”
– (@maureenmurphygrzyb) August 2, 2022
“Bro they’re missing muzzles.”
– (@dtdjt091909) August 3, 2022
“They need to learn to listen to you and they need to learn to be independent. If you can’t control them them don’t have them.”
– (@Ada Hunter) August 3, 2022
“Leashes on kids should be illegal. You have your opinions but it’s just wrong, even rabbits don’t go on leashes, why should children?”
– (@_..maybe_) August 1, 2022
SUPPORTIVE COMMENTS
The comment section also featured positive feedback, with parents praising the dad’s actions. Moms and dads thanked him for putting the safety of his family first, while others stated it was a clever idea:
“I said, ‘I’ll NEVER put my kids on a leash!’ As a mother with two energetic toddlers at the same time, I grabbed the first monkey backpacks with leashes I could get my hands on!”
– (@authortraciejohnson) August 3, 2022
“Anyone who disagrees with his method has never taken care of five toddlers at one time! Even preschools use a rope system to walk to the playground.”
– (@graftymarie89) August 3, 2022
“I had one for my daughter – nothing wrong with it – she was able to run around but close enough to me in a crowd.”
– (@Ligita212) July 31, 2022
“If you are being judged for protecting your children, then the judgmental folks have no clue about the value of life on any level.”
– (mboyd1990) July 31, 2022
CONTRASTING PROFESSIONAL OPINIONS
Dr. Deborah Gilboa, an expert in the field of parenting and youth development, shared her thoughts about the use of a leash. She supported the technique and called it “creative problem-solving.” The doctor added:
“This isn’t treating kids like animals. The alternative would be just staying at home … Just because you can’t identify with the problem doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
CONCERNS ABOUT LEASH INJURIES
Another pediatrician had a different viewpoint. He noted that he didn’t support using leashes on kids because the method treated them like pets. The professional explained:
“As the father of three, I am well aware of how quick, impulsive, and unpredictable kids can be. But from an injury standpoint, I would worry about entanglement or choking.”
Questions To Ponder:
- Is the father justified in using a leash to manage his kids?
Parents move heaven and earth to provide and care for their children. Moms and dads indeed know what is best for their little ones, and if it isn’t harming anyone, parents should be allowed to do whatever works for them.
- What might be an alternative course of action for the father-of-five?
It is always easier to point fingers, but many people aren’t able to provide alternative solutions for struggling parents. For moms and dads having a tough time keeping an eye on all of their kids, it might be advisable to get additional help. Perhaps a family member or friend can come along while running errands, so a leash isn’t needed.
My Neighbor Drove over My Lawn Every Day as a Shortcut to Her Yard
After her divorce, Hayley pours her heart into the perfect lawn, until her entitled neighbor starts driving over it like it’s a shortcut to nowhere. What begins as a petty turf war turns into something deeper: a fierce, funny, and satisfying reclamation of boundaries, dignity, and self-worth.
After my divorce, I didn’t just want a fresh start. I needed it.
That’s how I ended up in a quiet cul-de-sac in a different state, in a house with a white porch swing and a lawn I could call my own.
A house with a white porch swing | Source: Midjourney
I poured my heartbreak into that yard. I planted roses from my late grandma’s clippings. I lined the walkways with solar lights that flickered to life like fireflies. I mowed every Saturday, named my mower “Benny,” and drank sweet tea on the steps like I’d been doing it my whole life.
I was 30, newly single, and desperate for peace.
A smiling woman sitting on a porch | Source: Midjourney
Then came Sabrina.
You’d hear her before you saw her. Her heels clicking like gunshots against concrete, voice louder than her Lexus engine. She was in her late 40s, always in something tight and glossy, and never without a phone pressed to her ear.
She lived in the corner house across the loop. Her husband, Seth, though I wouldn’t learn his name until much later, was the quiet type.
I never saw him drive. Just her. Always her.
A woman standing next to her car | Source: Midjourney
The first time I saw tire tracks through my lawn, I thought it was a fluke. Maybe a delivery guy cutting a corner during his route. But then it happened again. And again.
I got up early one morning and caught her in the act, her SUV swinging wide and slicing clean through my flowerbed like it was a damn racetrack. I flagged her down, waving like a madwoman in pajama pants.
“Hey! Could you not cut across the lawn like that? I just planted lilies there! Come on!”
A flowerbed of beautiful lilies | Source: Midjourney
She leaned out the window, sunglasses perched high, lips curled in a smile so tight it could cut glass.
“Oh honey, your flowers will grow back! I’m just in a rush sometimes.”
Then, just like that, she was gone.
Her SUV disappeared around the corner, tires leaving fresh scars across the soil I’d spent hours softening, planting, grooming. The scent of crushed roses lingered in the air, floral and faintly bitter, like perfume sprayed on a goodbye letter.
A car on the road | Source: Midjourney
I stood frozen on the porch, heart pounding in that familiar, helpless rhythm. I wasn’t just angry, I was dismantled.
Not again.
I’d already lost so much. The marriage. The future I’d clung to like a blueprint. And just when I’d started to rebuild something beautiful, something mine, someone decided it was convenient to tear it up with their Michelin tires and manicured entitlement.
An upset woman sitting outside | Source: Midjourney
This yard was my sanctuary. My therapy. My way of proving to myself that I could nurture something, even if I hadn’t been enough for someone else to stay.
And she drove over it like it was a patch of weeds.
I tried to be civil. I did what any good neighbor would. I bought big, beautiful decorative rocks. The type that was polished, heavy, and meant to say please respect this space. I placed them carefully, like guards at the edge of a kingdom I was learning to protect.
A pile of rocks on a lawn | Source: Midjourney
The next morning? Two were shoved aside like toys and a rose stem split down the middle.
That’s when it hit me: this wasn’t about flowers. This was about me.
And I’d been invisible long enough. So, I stopped being nice.
A damaged rose bush | Source: Midjourney
Phase One: Operation Spike Strip (But Made Legal)
I gave her chances. I gave her grace. I gave her decorative rocks. But the message wasn’t sinking in.
So I got creative.
I drove out to a local feed store, the kind that smells like hay and old wood, and picked up three rolls of chicken wire mesh. Eco-friendly. Subtle. But when laid just beneath the surface of a soft lawn?
A close up of chicken wire mesh | Source: Midjourney
It bites.
I came home and worked in the early evening light, the same time she usually thundered in like a one-woman parade. I wore gloves. I dug carefully. I laid that wire with the precision of a woman who’s been underestimated one too many times.
I smoothed the soil back over like nothing ever happened. To the average eye? It was just a freshly groomed yard.
A woman working in her garden | Source: Midjourney
To a woman who doesn’t respect boundaries? It was a trap waiting to be triggered.
Two days later, I was on the porch with my tea when I heard it.
A loud crunch.
The kind of sound that makes your shoulders tense and your heart quietly hum with justice. Sabrina’s SUV jerked to a stop mid-lawn, one tire hissing its surrender.
A cup of tea on a porch | Source: Midjourney
Sabrina flung the door open like the drama queen she was, stilettos stabbing into my flowerbed as she examined the deflation.
“What did you do to my car?!” she screamed, her eyes wild.
I took a slow, syrupy sip from my mug.
A close up of an annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney
“Oh no… was that the lawn again? Thought your tires were tougher than my roses.”
She stood there, seething. And all I could think was: Good.
She stormed off in a flurry of clicks and curses. But I wasn’t done. Not even close. There was so much more to come.
A woman leaning against her door and smiling | Source: Midjourney
Phase Two: The Petty Paper Trail
The next morning, I found a letter taped to my front door, flapping in the breeze like a threat dressed in Times New Roman.
It was from Sabrina’s lawyer.
Apparently, I’d “intentionally sabotaged shared property” and “posed a safety hazard.”
Shared property? My yard?
A letter taped to a front door | Source: Midjourney
I stood there barefoot on the porch, still in my sleep shirt and leggings. I reread the letter three times just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. It was laughable. But laughter wasn’t what came first, it was rage.
Slow, steady, delicious rage.
You want to play legal games, Sabrina? Fine by me.
I called the county before my coffee even got cold. I booked a land survey that same afternoon. Two days later, there were stakes and bright-orange flags marking every inch of my property like a war zone.
A woman sitting at her kitchen counter | Source: Midjourney
Turns out, her property line didn’t even brush mine. She’d been trespassing for weeks.
So, I started gathering receipts. I went full-librarian-on-a-mission mode.
I pulled every photo I’d taken. Snapshots of roses in bloom, then snapped in half. Sabrina’s SUV parked mid-lawn. Her stilettos crossing my mulch like it was a runway. One image had her mid-stride, phone to ear, not a care in the world.
An older woman talking on a phone | Source: Midjourney
I printed them all and put them into a folder. I slid in a copy of the survey, the report I filed, not to press charges, just to get it on record. The paper trail was clean, legal, and satisfyingly thick.
I mailed it to her lawyer. Certified. Tracked. With a little note inside:
“Respect goes both ways.”
Three days later, the claim was dropped. Just like that. No apology. No confrontation. But still, Sabrina didn’t stop.
And that?
That was her final mistake.
An envelope on a table | Source: Midjourney
Phase Three: The “Welcome Mat” Finale
If chicken wire couldn’t stop her and legal letters didn’t humble my annoying neighbor, then it was time for something with a little more… flair.
I scoured the internet until I found it. A motion-activated sprinkler system designed to ward off deer and raccoons but with the power of a small fire hydrant.
It didn’t mist. It attacked.
An open laptop on a kitchen counter | Source: Midjourney
I buried it low in the spot she always cut across, hidden beneath a fresh layer of mulch and daisies. Wired it up. I did a test run and got blasted so hard I lost a flip-flop. It was perfect.
The next morning, I sat behind my lace curtains with a mug of coffee and fresh buttery croissants. I had the patience of a woman who’d been underestimated for far too long.
Right on schedule, her white Lexus turned into the cul-de-sac and swerved over my lawn like it always had, confident, careless, and completely unprepared.
Fresh croissants on a plate | Source: Midjourney
And then… fwoosh!
The sprinkler exploded to life with the fury of a thousand garden hoses. First her front wheel. Then the open passenger window. Then a glorious 360 spin that drenched the entire side of her SUV.
Sabrina screamed. The car screeched to a stop. She threw her door open and jumped out, soaked, makeup running like melting wax.
I didn’t laugh. I howled. Nearly spilled my coffee down my shirt.
A sprinkler system on a lawn | Source: Midjourney
She stood in my flowerbed, dripping, sputtering, mascara streaking down her cheeks like black tears of entitlement. For the first time since this all started, she looked small.
She never crossed the lawn again.
A week later, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find a man, mid-50s, rumpled button-down, holding a potted lavender plant like it was a peace offering.
A man holding a potted plant | Source: Midjourney
“I’m Seth,” he said quietly. “Sabrina’s husband.”
The poor man looked like a man worn down by years of apologizing for someone else.
“She’s… spirited,” he said, offering the plant. “But you taught her a lesson I couldn’t.”
I took the plant gently.
A smiling woman standing outside | Source: Midjourney
“The sidewalk’s always available, Seth,” I smiled.
He smiled back. The kind that carried more relief than joy. Then he turned and walked away, on the pavement.
Right where he belonged.
A man walking down a side walk | Source: Midjourney
Weeks later, my lawn was blooming again.
The roses were taller than before. The daffodils had returned, delicate but defiant. The rocks still stood guard, though they didn’t need to anymore.
The chicken wire was gone. The sprinkler? Still there. Not out of spite but memory. It was a line drawn in the soil, just in case the world forgot where it ended.
A beautiful garden | Source: Midjourney
But the war was over.
I stirred a pot of marinara in my kitchen, the window cracked just enough to let in the sound of birds and distant lawnmowers. My hands moved on autopilot—garlic, basil, and a pinch of salt.
I had made this recipe a hundred times, but that night it felt different. Like muscle memory soothing something deeper.
A pot of marinara sauce on a stove | Source: Midjourney
The steam fogged the window just enough that I couldn’t quite see the tire marks that once haunted the grass. And I thought… maybe that was fitting.
Because it wasn’t really about grass.
It was about being erased. Again.
When my marriage ended, it hadn’t been with a dramatic fight or infidelity. It had been quieter. Colder. Like watching someone pack up their love in small boxes and slip out the door while I was still convincing myself things could be fixed.
A pensive woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
I had spent three years asking to be seen. To matter. To be considered.
And then I came here. To this house. To this porch. And I finally started building something just for me. Something alive. Beautiful. Soft in all the places I had gone hard to survive.
And then Sabrina… Tire tracks across my peace. High heels stomping on my healing.
A laughing older woman | Source: Midjourney
She hadn’t known that every daffodil she crushed, I had planted with hands that still shook from signing divorce papers.
That every solar light she bumped had been placed with quiet hope I’d someday fall in love with evenings again.
So maybe it looked petty. Maybe a sprinkler seemed like overkill. But it hadn’t just been about defending grass.
A close up of daffodils | Source: Midjourney
It had been about drawing a line where I hadn’t before. About learning that sometimes, being kind means being fierce. And that setting boundaries doesn’t make me crazy.
It gives me freedom.
I ladled sauce over pasta and smiled as the scent filled the kitchen.
Some things broke me. And some things, like a perfect flowerbed, or a well-aimed jet of water, brought me back.
A bowl of pasta on a kitchen counter | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
When Martha returns from a weekend away, she’s horrified to find her MIL, Gloria, has destroyed her daughter’s cherished flowerbed, replacing it with tacky garden gnomes. Furious but composed, Martha hatches a clever plan to teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.
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