Well, where to start. I’m a young mother living in upstate New York, weathering my way through community college for my an Interior Design degree. I live with my fiance in a nice house, with our five-year-old daughter. On the outside, I’m exactly the kind of parent that people expect me to be, and that I always wanted to be growing up; I discipline when needed, make sure my girl knows what she should and shouldn’t do, and I feed her right. She gets playtime at her school, her friends come over to visit, we’re a comfortable family.
But we’re a family with a secret, and it’s one that very few people know about: My fiancé and I are adult babies. More
We thought nothing of it, but it got progressively worse , and by age 3 Sky wanted nothing to do with anything male. Skylar demanded dresses to wear, Skylar loved skirts and tutus, and Skylar’s favorite superhero was a Disney Princess (Mulan). My ex husband hated it, he was raised in an über conservative Christian home and had very distinct views on gender roles. I as an atheist who believed nothing of gender roles was totally okay with letting Skylar do what Skylar wanted. I have no clue why we even got married. More
All this I could possibly handle, except it’s never (never) about the baby or my brother, for that matter. Everything is all about her. Hey amazing parenting skills, her kitchen skills, her boundless creativity and beauty. You may think I’m simply jealous More
My S.O. of course defended his brother, said he had a psychotic episode and wasn’t really a sexual predator. He also said what his brother did wasn’t that bad. “It’s not like he raped her”, he said. I can’t imagine the horror that woman must have gone through being cornered and groped by a large 300 pound man, I can’t imagine she would shrug the incident off and say “well at least he didn’t rape me”. He also said I can’t share my concerns with his mother. She continues to insist he never did anything wrong and would ultimately blame me if something were to happen. More
You know me. You trust me. I’m a normal-looking stay at home mom who seems to do the best things for her kids. I nursed my babies. I fed them organic baby food. I dressed them in adorable outfits. But, if I’ve been in your home (and why wouldn’t I be?), I’ve tried to steal or have actually stolen from you. I’ve looked in your medicine cabinets, your nightstand drawers, your linen closets – anywhere and everywhere I could think of that could contain drugs. I am white. I seem totally in control. I could be your sister, your friend, your neighbor, or the mother of your kid’s friend. And I am a drug addict. More
Two years ago, the expenses of living on her own became too much, especially with all the medications she has to buy. My husband and I offered to let her stay with us while her feet healed up so she could then be in a position to get a part-time job. It meant she had to move three states away, but she would also get to see my daughter, then only six months old, every day. It was really nice for a while to be nearby. But then… it just wasn’t anymore. More
Sometimes I get the most amazing Anonymous Mom submissions that aren’t a true confession or a deep dark secret. Sometimes they are just amazingly awesome ideas the writer wants to share with the Mommyish community, and such is the case with the following. You may remember how Maria wrote about this awful school In Utah and how they disposed of the lunches of kids that had overdue lunch accounts. More
But one by one, I vowed to love my body. I accepted my freckles, my saggy breasts, my flabby tummy, my chubby thighs, and ugly toes. I accepted every single stretch mark, and there are probably hundreds scattered across my stomach and legs. I made a conscious decision as I passed each body part to no longer tear it down and complain about it. I am going to be happy in my skin, even if there’s more of me to love than I’d prefer. By the end, I was crying again, but for a very different reason. I’ve never felt such relief, like I’d finally gotten rid of a burden that I’ve been carrying around for twelve years. More
Were some people offended by this? Probably someone, somewhere, was. I’m sure many readers will be scandalized. But, for me, the important thing for ourselves and our children is that we show gratitude. I’m not convinced that always sending a thank you note is the only way to do it, and I especially think the obsessive score keeping is much ruder and much more hateful. More
But then I made a critical error. I read Home School Mom Blogs and found that I am the worst homeschool mom ever. I was totally nonplussed at my apparent inadequacy. More
Sure, I LOVE my babies and feel a fierce protectiveness toward them from the moment they’re born, but I think the first year just sucks. It’s more than the physical demands and grossness of infancy. I just don’t get on with babies. You know when you’re at a party and a small baby is getting passed around and everyone is fighting over who gets to hold the baby next? Well, not me! More
But even though you’ve covered every aspect of motherhood surprises always come along, sometimes not the type one would love to experience. One of those hard times for us was discovering a rather uncommon condition our daughter has started to develop around 3 months old. It’s called fused vagina syndrome and no one, doctors included have not heard of and obviously could not offer the support we desperately needed. More
I don’t treat motherhood like a job and I’m not terribly invested in doing everything just right. If I never spent time with other moms or went on the internet, this would probably make me feel totally fine almost always. The natural parenting movement specifically, though, is exactly the sort of thing that makes a mom like me feel way out to sea and judged by other moms. More
I hate my sister-in-law for having another baby.
Let me backtrack a little – my sister-in-law is a drug addict. Before she had this baby, she had given birth to three more. Three kids that she didn’t take care of properly. Three kids that she had taken away from her by child services because she was a terrible mother. Three kids that, no matter how much love she gave them, she could never fully be a mother to. More