Janice is the best mom I could have ever asked for, the boy wrote in his post. She has been so unbelievably kind and Ioving to me and I absolutely adore her. The problem is that I don’t call her mom, I just call her Janice. I want to start calling her mom but have no idea how to without making it awkward. PIease help me internet strangers.
A young man’s message to Redditors for advice.
Commenters were more than happy to share their advice, and some of their ideas were absolutely heartwarming! Of course, everyone was also eager for him to update them when he finally started calling his foster parent “Mom.”
1. This person suggested a subtle approach.
Calling your foster parent “Mom” for the first time is a big deaI, but that doesn’t mean the moment has to be a formal event. Naturally slipping it into everyday conversation can be pretty special, too!
2. Of course, sometimes a little fanfare can also be sweet.
Another commenter suggested the opposite tactic. Find a creative way to ceIebrate this moment like the special occasion it is!
3. One user had a helpful anecdote to share.
What a sweet story! This is such a cIever way to start calling a foster parent “Mom,” and it clearly worked out pretty well.
VIDEOS BY INSPIRE MORE
4. However, the direct approach is often the best.
Here’s an option with no beating around the bush! If you aIready know what you want, you can literally just ask for it.
5. Calling this foster parent “Mom” would make such an incredible gift.
Here’s a sweet way to call her “Mom” without saying it out loud. Not only would this make things easier, but it would also be an extra special gesture!
My mother abandoned me in a cardboard box at a supermarket when I was an infant — two decades later, she reached out to me for assistance
Sue was left in a cardboard box as a small child. Luckily, a store clerk took her home and changed the course of her entire life. Now, in the form of an unexpected knock at the door, Sue has to face her past and the disappointment that comes with it. Is this a grand reunion or the biggest disappointment of Sue’s life?
I was left in a cardboard box in a supermarket twenty years ago. I was just a few months old, and all I had to my name were a few photos of my mother and a note.
The note read: I will always love you, Sue.
Nobody knew my surname or whether I had a middle name. Nobody seemed to know my mother or what had happened to my father. I was all alone in a world that didn’t know anything about me.
But even then, at a few months old, I seemed to be fortune’s fool. I was found by a kind store clerk, Ruby, who took me in.
“I couldn’t leave you there, Sue,” she would say whenever the story came up. “I became your guardian shortly after and raised you as my own. You became my little bug.”
Ruby was everything to me. And as I grew, the closer we became.
I was forever grateful that she gave me everything I needed. But still, I never stopped wondering why my mother left me and if she would ever come back.
“I know that it bothers you, darling,” Ruby told me one day as she made lasagna for dinner. “But she’s an enigma now. We have nothing that could lead us to her.”
“I know,” I said, grating more cheese for when the dish was ready. “It’s just frustrating when I start thinking about it.”
“You love the internet, you love social media, Sue. Use it, share your story, maybe it will resonate with people, and you can connect with others just like you.”
She opened the oven and put the tray of lasagna inside.
So I did just that, and I became a well-known video blogger, sharing my story with the world.
“You’ve created a safe platform for people to share their stories, too,” Ruby told me when I read comments from my latest video to her.
“It means something to me,” I said, helping myself to the eclairs on the table.
Fast forward to the present. I am successful and able to provide for myself and my guardian.
“So much for being an abandoned baby,” I said to myself as I washed my face one night.
But imagine my surprise when an unexpected knock on my door changed everything.
I opened the door to find a frail, older woman standing there, her eyes filled with regret and desperation.
“Sue, darling,” she said. “I am your mother, and I need your help!”
I just looked at her, unable to blink for fear of missing the moment.
“Do you still have the note I left with you when I left you safely in the store?”
Safely? I thought to myself. I stood there, paralyzed by the flood of emotions that had come in when she entered my home.
“Yes, I have it,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I kept it.”
“I know I have no right to ask for your help after what I did, but I need you to believe me when I say I had no choice back then. I was running from a dangerous situation. And I thought leaving you in a safe place was the only way to protect you. I needed to disappear.”
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