Funny Motherhood Stories Novels & Stories

Compared to Matthew who was always with the child, she felt guilty towards her baby. But her child was very well-behaved, complaining only a couple of times before changing the subject: "Mom, let me tell you about the everyday stories dad tells me! He tells me stories every day, even jokes, they're hilarious! Oh right, dad knows wood carving! He knows I miss you, so he carved many small wooden statues that look like you, let me show you!"

Venn didn't say anything, but it was easy to see from his curious eyes that he really wanted to hear my answer. "You aspire to be the breadwinner of the family but you don't act like a breadwinner. Once something goes wrong, you go to alcohol, to games, to bustling places like that. You never tried to calm down to find a way to solve everything. Why doesn't mom want to tell you about anything? Because in our house there are no good things but mostly bad things. The story that I heard the most was that someone came to the house to collect the debt. Our mother wanted you to grow up to be happy like other friends, so she didn't tell you about the story in the house. You lived in a poor family b

The building had been demolished and rebuilt into a grand and prosperous shopping center. My mother was bent over on the clean tiles of the shopping mall like a dog, madly scratching the surface of the ground, and she attracted the attention of passersby who pointed at her and laughed. She dug so hard that her fingers started bleeding, but she refused to stop and started wailing, "My key! I dropped my key! Janine is still down there! Let her out! I'm an expert! Let her out, I was wrong!"

But across the table, Zara's eyes had flickered, just once, toward Caelith's mother and then away again, filed and released the way Zara filed and released everything, and she said nothing, and the conversation moved on, and the moment dissolved into the ordinary warmth of the table the way moments do when nobody decides to hold onto them. The evening softened into something genuinely good. Her father told the story about the time he'd nearly burned down the kitchen attempting a soufflé for her mother's fortieth birthday, a story Caelith had heard easily thirty times and that still made her laugh properly, the kind of laugh that came from somewhere unguarded. Her mother countered with her ow

Mom: "Well, dear diary, that's about it for today. As you can see, one of Jimmy's father's crazy ideas DID work, though not in the way he predicted. We DID get a fortune out of it, but he didn't bargain on his having to move into Jimmy's old room, or of his son moving into bed with me. He also didn't plan on being a full-time Mr.Mom, tending the endless flow of babies, the product of his wife and her son's passionate relationship. I have to admit, the sight of crib after crib, bunk bed next to bunk bed, in room after room, is a bit daunting. You can't be in the house for long without hearing the 'wah wah' of babies crying until their slave--Jim's father—gives them their formulae. With fourte

"My mother told me stories of Lilith tearing apart entire covens with a wave of her hand. I wished so badly that Lilith was my mother instead. But look at this joke." "Right?" another chimed in, sneering openly. "It's like they say... a lion gave birth to a cockroach."

“I never even asked you how your day with my mother was,” I said to her as I turned on my back. “She told me all your embarrassing baby stories,” she said to me and my eyes went wide. “She wouldn’t,” I said to her. “She did, like that time you peed on your uncle, King Sacha, when you were three,” she said and I groaned. “Okay, I believe you. Just stop talking,” I said and closed my eyes as I shook my head.

My death caused a huge stir in the neighborhood. I had always been known as a diligent and hardworking student, so people found it impossible to believe that I had been abused at home for being lazy. Some classmates who had been close to me posted the story online. In their posts, they listed all the favoritism my mom had shown over the years, along with that ridiculous software she had created. The story quickly spread across the internet. Netizens flooded the comment sections. [Does a woman like this even deserve to be called a mother? She must be punished!]

I told mom, worriedly. If papu founds out that the news was all fake then he might end up collapsing in shake, hearing the news did not literally shake him because I remember telling papu that I'll give him a grandchild soon-- well that was supposed to be a joke since my papu always brought that baby topic on out conversation so I just joked to make him stop. "Do what's right." This is what my mother told me to do. And by my mom's word, my imagination suddenly flashes in front of me as if I'm using multimedia with my eyes.

I exclaimed, my hands flying up in exasperation, “And the worst part? He still wants to f*ck me tonight! Just what kind of circus is this?” I could almost hear my mother stifling a laugh on the other end, which only fueled my irritation. “Mom, is this funny to you?” I demanded sternly. “No… no…” she stammered, but a short burst of laughter slipped out, “Excuse me, I’m just eating something spicy and it’s going down the wrong way,” she explained, her voice strained as she cleared her throat. I let out a deep sigh, rolling my eyes so hard I thought I might see my brain, “Great, Mom, just great.”