Category: Motherhood
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(James’ POV, age: three, drama level: Code Red) Look. I’m not trying to start beef with Mom. I’m not even trying to be rude. I’m just… setting boundaries. You know, toddler-style—with flair. We were having a good day. I was stacking trucks, yelling at clouds, living my best life. Then Mom tried to kiss me—on…
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🎬 by a woman held hostage by children, chaos, and algorithmic indecision It begins as all evenings do: with my body slumped sideways, buried under tiny elbows, Goldfish crumbs, and whatever emotional residue James left behind after sobbing because his bath water wasn’t “spicy enough.” I’ve been poked, pulled, climbed, and cried on.Every surface of…
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By James. Age three. Big feelings. Big splashes. Okay. So. Today was Important. Grave Digger told me so. He said, “Hey James. Do you want to drive into Splash Volcano?” And I said “YES,” and then Pushed the Stool. It made a scratchy sound like dragons walking. Good. That meant it was time. I climbed.…
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It began innocently. A wreath here. A scented pinecone basket there. A twinkle light or twelve strung across the stairwell “just for ambiance.” But slowly, the transformation took hold. My Pinterest board bloated like a snowman on a salt shaker. I stopped saying “no” to glitter-based projects. I found myself whispering to rolls of ribbon…
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Mom is bouncing. Not like jumping-bouncing. Like excited-bouncing. Like her voice is doing cartwheels and her eyes are sparkly and she keeps saying things like “This is magical” and “You’re going to love it.” She’s holding the remote like it’s a wand. She’s got snacks lined up like a Hogwarts feast—popcorn, juice boxes, and those…
