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 Ex Abandoned His Son with Me for a Decade — Now He’s Back, and He Brought a Lawyer
Ten years after disappearing without a word, Sara’s ex-fiancé, Daniel, showed up at her front door with a lawyer, demanding custody of the son he had left behind. As Sara fights to keep the life she’s built with Adam, buried secrets start to surface, and the real reason for Daniel’s sudden return threatens to turn her world upside down.
Yesterday, Adam was getting ready for school upstairs while I enjoyed the last sip of my morning coffee. The doorbell rang, and I thought it might be a neighbor or maybe the mailman delivering a package I’d forgotten about.
But when I opened the door, my heart sank.
It was Daniel.
I hadn’t thought about Daniel in years. Sometimes he’d come to mind when Adam asked about his dad, or in quiet moments before sleep. But this… this was not how I expected to see him again.
He stood there, ten years older but still familiar. Next to him was another man, stiff, in an expensive suit, holding a folder — he was clearly a lawyer.
“Why are you here?” I managed to say, my voice shaky but steady.
Daniel didn’t waste time with greetings. He never did. “I’m here to take back my son.”
My heart stopped. Ten years of silence, and now he thought he could just walk in and take Adam? No, this couldn’t be real.
“You’re not taking him,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper. “You have no right.”
The lawyer stepped forward, handing me the folder. “Ma’am, you’ve been served.”
My hands shook as I took the papers. Words like “custody,” “contest,” and “court” blurred on the page.
The life I’d built with Adam was about to come crashing down.
Ten years ago
Daniel entered my life with his three-year-old son, Adam, from a previous marriage. Daniel was charming but troubled, and I thought I could help him heal.
Adam was the best part of it all. With his big eyes and warm laugh, he brought light into my life. I became his stepmom as Daniel and I built a life together, feeling like I’d found where I belonged.
Then one morning, Daniel was gone. I thought he’d gone for a run or out for coffee, but hours passed. My calls went to voicemail.
Finally, I found a note: “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
That was all. No reason, no warning. Just those empty words. I sat there in shock, feeling my heart break.
Adam was too young to understand. “Daddy said he had to leave,” he said. “But he said he’d come back one day.”
Days turned into months. Adam stopped asking about his dad, and I stopped pretending to know if he’d return.
After Daniel left, my nightmare began. Child Protective Services got involved, questioning my role as a stepmom. To them, I had no legal right to Adam, despite being the only mother he knew.
I fought hard, enduring sleepless nights and court hearings. They questioned everything, but I refused to give up.
Finally, I won. I adopted Adam, making him mine legally. I promised that no one would ever take him from me again.
But now, after ten years, Daniel was standing on my doorstep, ready to destroy everything I’d built.
The present day
I stared at the papers, feeling rage and fear. Adam’s father. Custody. Court. The words hammered in my mind.
“Mom?” Adam’s small voice broke through. He’d heard everything.
I turned to him, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. “It’s going to be fine,” I lied.
But it wasn’t fine.
I hired a lawyer the next day. I would not let Daniel take Adam without a fight. As the case unfolded, we discovered the truth. Daniel’s return wasn’t about love or regret.
Adam’s grandfather on his mother’s side had recently left a large inheritance, and Daniel had found out. That’s why he was back, aiming for custody to get access to the money.
The realization hit hard. How could I explain to Adam that his father wasn’t here for him, but for his inheritance?
The court date arrived all too soon. My lawyer, Judith, had prepared me, but nothing could ease the pain of facing Daniel, knowing he was trying to tear apart our lives.
Daniel’s lawyer argued that as Adam’s biological father, he had the right to custody, painting Daniel as a man who had made mistakes but was ready to step up.
Mistake? He’d abandoned us.
Judith spoke next, presenting the facts. Daniel hadn’t been in Adam’s life for a decade. He’d never called, visited, or sent a letter. And then Judith revealed the inheritance.
“Mr. Harris’s return is not a coincidence,” she stated. “This is not about reconnecting with his son. This is about money.”
Daniel looked down, his face tight as his lawyer whispered in his ear.
The judge, a calm woman, turned to Adam. “Adam,” she said gently. “You’re thirteen now. I’d like to hear from you.”
Adam glanced nervously at me, then stood, his voice shaky but firm.
“Sara has been my mom,” he began. “She’s the one who’s been there for me. I don’t know the man over there. I want to stay with the only mom I’ve ever known.”
The courtroom went silent.
The judge nodded. “Thank you, Adam. Your decision is clear.”
With that, the gavel struck. Adam would stay with me.
Daniel left without looking back, vanishing from our lives once more.
Outside, Adam turned to me with a small smile. “I’m glad it’s over, Mom.”
“So am I,” I whispered, hugging him tightly.
As we left, Adam looked at me thoughtfully. “What do we do with the inheritance now?”
I smiled. “It’s yours, Adam. For your future, whatever you choose.”
He looked up at me with warmth. “My future is with you, Mom.”
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