Funny Motherhood Stories Novels & Stories

I glared at her. She laughed. “Just kidding, baby.” My mom raised her hand with a “peace” sign. In order not to be fully consumed by my worry, I diverted our topic into something funny. We talked about my childhood days. My mom told me what embarrassing things I did when I was a child. “Yeah. Badly!” My mom burst out into laughter. “You even pack your things!” “Seriously, ma?” I don’t have any idea what my mom is talking about. Maybe, I was a kid.

Aubrey rolled his eyes but laughed along, grateful that money couldn’t buy these moments—the kind of ordinary, ridiculous joy that reminded them all of who they were. Even Mother, battling depression, found that laughter sometimes returned to her like an old friend she thought she had lost. One morning, she walked into the living room where her children were bickering loudly about who was the “favorite.” Without missing a beat, she cleared her throat and said, “It’s obviously me. I’m my own favorite.” The room exploded in laughter, the heaviness of years lifting just for that moment.

The conversation flowed more easily after that, the older women sharing stories from their own experiences of motherhood, mixing advice with casual jokes to lighten the mood. “Do you remember the time Vincenzo broke his arm climbing that tree?” his mother said with a chuckle. “He was so stubborn, insisted on reaching the top, even though I told him a hundred times it was dangerous.” Annizah managed a small laugh through her tears. “That sounds like him. Determined and stubborn.” “Just like Fione,” her stepmother added with a smile. “She gets that from both of you.” They continued to talk, shifting topics from their children to lighter subjects like recipes and old family anecdotes. The laugh

she practically lunges at me, but I was expecting that and grab her hand firmly. "Now I'll tell you a little story, Cait," I squeeze her hand even harder, "Once upon a time, there was a woman who didn't have much sanity and ended up making the grave mistake of trying to take the life of another woman's daughter, who was much smarter than her, and you know what they say about mothers, right? This one wasn't any different! But the ending was happy, the little girl's mother ended up killing the crazy woman. Isn't that a great story?"

Keondra said. “His mother was just as terrible as his father.” She answered. “Are you really gonna listen to her bedtime stories?” He scoffed. “Pathetic.” “I believe her! Her stories are true.” Keondra said to him. “Thank you Kee, my stories are true!” “What happened next?” Keondra became enthusiastic.

She sneaked behind the door and listened to their conversion. Clifford : Anyway mum, I came here to give you good news. Mad. Flora : Really? Let's hear it. Clifford (smiling) : Mum, am going to be a father. Rosie is pregnant. Mad. Flora : What! Is that true? Mad. Flora was so excited and hugged his son. Mad. Flora : So where is she now? Clifford : At the hospital. Mad. Flora : What happened to her?

Harrison splutters, trying his hardest to tell his story in between fits of laughter. “I took your mother on that cliff trail. We had found a lost dog and were going to take it to the local shelter, hoping its owner would claim it. She was holding its lead while standing on a rock, and the bloody thing saw a rabbit and charged towards it, pulling her off the stone. She would honestly swear blind that she fell from a cliff; she curled up in the mud in the foetal position. When I asked her where it hurt, she screamed at me, ‘Fucking everywhere you twat’,” He tells us after pointing to a walking trail, again in hysterics by the end of his tale.

THE SADDEST DAY The news about my mother's pregnancy got Daddy hyperactive. He has been all smiles and someworth mouthy, always talking about his fantasies with his baby: how beautiful he imagined it would look and boasted about how great and endearing a father he'd be to his children. He would keep talking and talking that it got Mum cracking up at some point. She'd hold her stomach out of pain because she had laughed so hard that she'd beg him to stop to avoid hurting the baby, and after a while, he'd start suddenly again like someone out there pressed his remote-control button. He can be that fay and full of fun.

My head remained on her shoulder and we both stood and stared in silence. “I’m not going to bore you with any of those marriage talks you know, we’ve had enough already” she said and I burst into laughter. My mother wasn’t lying, she had visited my room at least ten times in the middle of the night to give me stories about her marriage with my father, the dos and don’ts of the marriage and everything that she believed that I would need to know for my marriage to be successful and I had taken everything to heart. I had heard stories from my mother that I wouldn’t have heard from anyone, their love story was something we had always heard but the ones she told me were deeper and much more emoti

Other times it was soft, knowing chuckles at shared looks or ridiculous jokes. There were moments, of course, when I felt the weight of everything. When the thought of labor made my stomach twist. When I missed someone I couldn’t reach. When I wondered if I’d ever get closure. But then my mom would bring in a ridiculous maternity dress she found online and force me to try it on, and my dad would read reviews out loud like he was doing dramatic readings of Shakespeare. “‘Gave birth in the parking lot. Five stars!’” he read, raising an eyebrow.