Nope. ETA let him handle it. The grandskids won't die if they don't get a present. 

Another vote for No. His circus, his monkeys. You have left the circus. 

I'm a bit on the fence... I kind of do agree with there is nothing good for you by getting involved.. but I also do think he should clearly understand that you expect he will pick up wherever he wants to.. and perhaps a "handoff" document that might give him important dates.. addresses (however you used to deal with it)  In partnerships we do all tend to pick up our roles.. women often get saddled with social calendar issues.. if you want him to take over.. he has to know where teh calendar is.

Your DH is very aware now about the issues of gifts with HIS grands. My DH has grands which I was shunned from. The ONLY thing I remind him of each year is to get his Christmas gifts picked/shipped early to be there for the big day. Any other gift giving or card sending days, that's on HIM to remember. 

Are PASed out but I used to do all the gift giving and buying.   All my money went toward the gifts as well.  They would occasionally thank Chef but never me.  To this day I do all the gift buying and Chef has no idea what the gifts are.

The less you do the better!

It's his kids and GK.  It's his responsibility to remember birthdays.  And do what ever not yours 

It's his kids and GK.  It's his responsibility to remember birthdays.  And do what ever not yours 

Short answer: No! Hell! No!

Long answer: You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.

Not five years. Not ten. But twenty.

Twenty years of bending over, letting them take free swings at your backside like you were some kind of human piñata—except instead of candy, all that fell out was your time, your money, and your dignity.

And what did you get for your trouble?

Nothing.

Not a thank you. Not a card. Not even a half-assed, misspelled text message saying, thx lol.

Twenty years of sending birthday cards, sending gifts, being the kind of thoughtful, decent human being these people clearly didn’t deserve—only to realize you’d been yelling into the void the whole damn time.

Or did you?

And when you finally stopped? When the gift and money train pulled into the station for the last time?

Ohhh, that’s when all hell broke loose.

BM and oldest SD blowing up DH’s phone, texting, calling, cussing him out like he owed them rent.

Does this tell you what kinds of people you are dealing with?

Because, apparently, in their world, basic decency wasn’t a two-way street—it was a damn toll road, and you were the one expected to keep throwing in quarters.

The entitlement? Off the charts.

The grandiosity? Enough to make a Roman emperor blush.

And the absolute audacity?

Priceless.

What got me was you had to write this post and ask us all what you should do. That takes the cake.

I personally think that if you still don’t know, then maybe—just maybe—you need to go back, pull your pants down, and bend over one more time.

Because clearly, you haven’t been abused ENOUGH to realize:

1.) That you are in a toxic-ass, one-sided relationship with these people.
2.) That after not once, not twice, but MULTIPLE TIMES over the course of twenty years, they have shown you exactly who they are.
3.) That their consistent, repeated, in-your-face mistreatment of you wasn’t enough to finally make a wise decision.

If that didn’t hammer it into your skull, then hell—maybe they should just send you an engraved invitation that says:

"Congratulations! You’re officially our doormat! Keep standing by, because we’ll be wiping our feet on you indefinitely!"

I think you’ve got a problem—and not just with the toxic people in your life.

You need therapy to figure out:

a) Why the hell you can’t keep a boundary to save your sanity.

b) Why, when you finally do set a damn boundary with these unhealthy, ungrateful people, you feel guilty about it.

Because let’s be real—that’s not normal.

That’s conditioning.

That’s years of being the nice one, the giving one, the one who keeps bending over and practically begging toxic people to hurt you—like some kind of self-sacrificing, masochistic punching bag.

And for what?

To people who’ve shown you, repeatedly, that they do. Not. Care.

You need help, not because you’re weak, but because you’ve been trained to feel bad for choosing yourself.

And that?

That’s the real problem.

But here’s the thing—this isn’t some twisted game of emotional whack-a-mole where your job is to keep popping back up, pretending you didn’t just get smacked down.

You don’t owe them anything.

And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can stop playing the part they’ve written for you—and start writing your own damn story.

Good Luck!

You could load his phone with the info but there's the burden of doing his emotion lifting.  How are men supposed to learn anything if we help them out, even in little ways?    This is HIS family.  If he cares so much let him deal with his lack of effort.  If the skids come at you, point out all you did , the lack of response and that you dumped it all on their father from now on.