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.
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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 76-YEAR-OLD HUSBAND GAVE ME A PUPPY FOR CHRISTMAS – EVEN THOUGH OUR KIDS WERE AGAINST IT!
The ornate Christmas tree shimmered with lights, and the air was thick with the scent of pine needles and gingerbread. But the festive cheer in our household was quickly overshadowed by a furry, four-legged surprise. My husband, bless his heart, had decided to gift me a puppy for Christmas.
Now, I love dogs. Absolutely adore them. But at 76, with our children long grown and flown, and our lives settled into a comfortable routine of leisurely walks and quiet evenings, a puppy felt like a bomb had been dropped on our peaceful existence.
“Surprise!” my husband announced, beaming as he led a wriggling, yipping creature into the living room. It was a golden retriever puppy, the cutest, most adorable creature I had ever seen. But the initial delight quickly gave way to a wave of apprehension.
Our children, who had visited earlier that day, were less than thrilled. “Dad, really?” my daughter exclaimed, her voice laced with disbelief. “A puppy? At your age?” My son, ever the pragmatist, chimed in, “Who’s going to walk it every day? Who’s going to clean up after it? Who’s going to deal with the barking and the chewing?”
My husband, oblivious to the brewing storm, was already enthralled. He was naming the puppy “Champ” and making grand plans for long walks in the park. I, meanwhile, was trying to figure out how to break the news to the dog walker we’d used for our previous dog, who had sadly passed away a few years ago.
The next few days were a whirlwind. The puppy, true to breed, was a whirlwind of energy. He chewed on shoes, barked incessantly, and peed on the rug (multiple times). My husband, bless his heart, was in his element. He spent hours playing fetch in the backyard, his face beaming with joy.
But the reality of the situation quickly set in. The sleepless nights, the constant cleaning, the endless walks in the rain – it was taking a toll. My husband, despite his initial enthusiasm, was starting to look weary. His back ached, and his energy levels were dwindling.
One evening, as I watched him struggle to lift the exuberant puppy onto the couch, I realized something had to change. I sat him down and had a serious conversation. I explained how much I appreciated his thoughtfulness, but that perhaps a puppy wasn’t the best fit for us at this stage in our lives.
He looked at me, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. But then he smiled. “You’re right,” he conceded. “Maybe a puppy is a bit much right now.”
We decided to find a loving home for Champ. It was a difficult decision, but we knew it was the right one. We found a wonderful young couple who were eager to give Champ the attention and energy he deserved.
While we missed the playful puppy, we also enjoyed the return of our peaceful evenings. And my husband, to my surprise, seemed to enjoy the extra time to pursue his hobbies – gardening and reading – without the constant demands of a rambunctious puppy.
In the end, the Christmas puppy incident taught us a valuable lesson: sometimes, the best gifts are the ones that truly fit into our lives. And sometimes, the most loving thing to do is to let go.
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