The actress who played Peggy Bundy on “Married… with Children” once revealed that the sitcom’s irreverent tone almost made her think it would fail. But the show’s success not only changed her career but also coincided with her journey into motherhood.
When “Married… with Children” first premiered, its brash humor and unconventional characters set it apart from other sitcoms of the time. At the center of the show was Peggy Bundy, the sharp-witted and fashionably over-the-top matriarch, brought to life by an actress who had first made her mark as a singer before turning to acting.
The actress pictured in 1986 | Source: Getty Images
While her on-screen persona exuded comedic confidence, the actress’ personal life was filled with challenges. In the early 1990s, during the height of the show’s popularity, she endured the loss of her first child. Over the years, however, she went on to raise three children, each with their own creative aspirations.
The actress photographed in California, in 1990 | Source: Getty Images
From Singing Waitress to Peggy Bundy – A Look at Her Career
Before her breakthrough on “Married… with Children,” the actress pursued a music career. She worked as a backup singer for industry icons like Bette Midler and Etta James, showcasing her vocal talents long before stepping into the spotlight as an actress.
The singer and actress performs on April 20, 1994 | Source: Getty Images
She even worked as a singing waitress, where she entertained diners with live performances of songs like “Brown Eyed Girl.” Despite her charm and musical talent, she jokingly recalled mishaps, such as spilling blue cheese dressing on customers while serving tables.
The actress and singer-songwriter, circa 1987 | Source: Getty Images
Her transition into acting came unexpectedly. She was approached to audition for “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” despite not actively seeking acting roles. “Are you kidding? I’m not even looking for a job as an actor. I’m a musician,” she said at the time.
The actress pictured on May 29, 1990 | Source: Getty Images
Still, her talent stood out, and the opportunity kick-started her acting career, leading to several roles before her big break. In 1987, she landed a role on “Married… with Children.” The sitcom was unlike anything else on television at the time, with its edgy humor and untraditional portrayal of family life.
Part of the “Married… with Children” cast pictured in Los Angeles, in 1988 | Source: Getty Images
As Peggy, she quickly became known for her bold fashion, big hair, and quick wit. In a 2021 interview, the actress recalled that for the first three seasons, she styled her own hair.
It wasn’t until the show’s growing success that the network provided her with a wig, signifying their investment in her character’s iconic look.
She also remembered the moment she and her co-star Ed O’Neill realized the show had become a hit. While on a promo tour, they participated in a parade, where fans cheered and waved at them enthusiastically.
The actress and Ed O’Neal pictured on the set of “Married With Children” in 1987 | Source: Getty Images
“We thought nobody was gonna really watch it because it was so irreverent and so not like anything else on TV,” she said. But the show went on to air for 11 seasons, solidifying Peggy as one of the most memorable characters in television history.
During the height of the show’s popularity, the actress experienced a heartbreaking tragedy that profoundly shaped her journey into motherhood.
The Heartbreaking Loss of Her First Child
In October 1991, the actress experienced a devastating loss when her daughter, Ruby, was stillborn at nearly eight months. At the time, her pregnancy had been written into the show’s storyline, but following the tragedy, it was removed and later dismissed as a dream sequence.
The loss was a deeply traumatic event for the actress, who later revealed her struggles with coming to terms with what had happened. She shared that she initially blamed herself, questioning whether she had overworked during her pregnancy or overlooked signs of illness.
“This is what they say about stillbirth, that 60 percent of it is God’s will and there’s no medical reason—and that’s what I was told. And I just couldn’t let go of the control of somehow, [the notion that] I had done something wrong,” she recalled.
For months following the tragedy, the actress rarely left her home except to visit doctors and psychic healers, seeking answers and comfort. It wasn’t until a close friend offered her a spiritual perspective that she began to heal.
The actress poses for a photo in 1988 | Source: Getty Images
“Sometimes we have these little souls that come in and out [of our lives], and their mission is completed,” her friend told her. This perspective, she said, gave her solace and helped her begin to move forward.
In the years that followed, she went on to become a mother to three children, but Ruby’s memory has remained a significant part of her life story.
The Eldest: Sarah White
Three years after the loss of her first child, Ruby, the actress welcomed her daughter Sarah Grace White in 1994. Sarah is now 30 years old and has pursued both acting and music. She studied drama in college and spent time abroad in London, which she later credited for helping her grow as a performer.
In 2015, Sarah made her screen debut in FX’s “The Bastard Executioner,” a series created by her stepfather, Kurt Sutter, and one in which her mother also played a role.
Sarah humbly acknowledged the connection that helped her land the part, describing it as “a little nepotism,” but also as a dream come true.
In addition to acting, Sarah has pursued a music career, releasing her first single in October 2022. Fans have often commented on Sarah’s appearance, leaving comments such as, “Wow, she is beautiful,” and “A beauty like her mom!!! ” on social media posts featuring her.
The Middle Child: Jackson White
Born in 1996, Jackson is the actress’ second child and has become a rising star in Hollywood. Although he was initially discouraged by his mother from pursuing acting until he turned 18, Jackson eventually followed his passion and gained widespread attention for his work in film and television.
The actress with her children Sarah and Jackson attending the premiere of the film “Shrek 2” on May 8, 2004 | Source: Getty Images
After briefly studying music at the University of Southern California, Jackson realized that college wasn’t for him and turned to acting. He made his debut in 2019 with HBO’s miniseries “Mrs. Fletcher,” which earned him recognition as a breakout star.
His mother proudly celebrated his success, sharing a post on Instagram with the caption, “Proud of him. The boy.” Despite her initial advice to pursue another career, the actress supported Jackson’s path in Hollywood.
Reflecting on his mother’s words of wisdom, Jackson admitted with humor, “It didn’t really work—I was still pretty childish in my early 20s—I’m still childish.” With Sarah and Jackson both carving out creative paths, the youngest sibling has grown up in a family deeply rooted in the arts.
The Youngest: Esmé Louise Sutter
In 2007, the actress and her husband, writer-producer Kurt Sutter, welcomed their daughter Esmé Louise via surrogate. At the time of Esmé’s birth, the actress was 52, and Sutter was 43. Although still young, Esmé has grown up surrounded by her family’s creative influence and achievements.
She frequently appears in her mother’s Instagram posts, drawing positive reactions from fans. In May 2023, her mother shared a photo of Esmé with the caption, “My beautiful Esmé.” Fans left comments like, “Oh, she’s like your mini-me,” “She’s so stunning,” and “She’s grown so much from her days at JAG.”
Whether sharing Esmé’s youthful charm, Jackson’s Hollywood breakthroughs, or Sarah’s creative ventures, the actress’ family photos continue to captivate fans, reflecting the life Katey Sagal, 70, has built beyond her iconic TV roles.
3 Stories of Children’s Secrets That Transformed Their Families Forever
Family secrets often hide beneath the surface, shaping relationships in unexpected ways. Unraveling these mysteries can lead to profound revelations and emotional journeys. In this collection, we explore three compelling stories where hidden truths come to light, forever altering the lives of those involved.
From a newfound friend that changes River’s routine at school to a pair of blue shoes Paige notices in the background of her husband’s photo, and a secret box Emma discovered in her father’s drawer, these tales highlight the enduring power of love, the sting of betrayal, and the unbreakable ties that bind families together.
My 4-Year-Old Daughter Started Drawing Dark Pictures after Accidentally Discovering Her Dad’s Secret
When her daughter exhibits unusual behavior, Jennifer questions everything. Eventually, Emma tells her the truth — that she found a box of her father’s secrets.
My daughter, Emma, has always been the rainbow child, wearing the brightest colors and drawing unicorns and butterflies.
But recently, there has been a change in her behavior. She’s been withdrawn, hasn’t been eating properly, and always wants to sit outside.
At first, I didn’t think much about it because Emma constantly goes through phases. But then, her teacher, Mrs Silverton, called me in for a parent-teacher meeting. She was just in kindergarten, but the school prided itself on checking in with parents.
“I didn’t want to alarm you, Jennifer, but there’s something concerning going on with Emma.”
She pulled out a yellow file and showed me a series of drawings by Emma — all dark and shadowy, menacing even.
I drove home from the school in silence. I knew that something was different with Emma, but I didn’t think it was that bad.
Later, while I made noodles for our dinner, I decided to talk to Emma about it.
“Sweetheart,” I said. “I went in to see Mrs Silverton today.”
“Really? Why?” she asked curiously.
“She spoke about the new drawings you’ve been doing and how different they are from the usual ones.”
She looked at her bowl of noodles, twirling her fork through it — her response was silence.
Finally, she spilled the beans.
“I found Daddy’s secret,” she said quietly.
“What secret, honey?” I asked her.
“Come, I’ll show you, Momma,” she said, jumping up from the table.
William, my husband, lives with Emma and me only part-time because of his job. Sometimes, he must work away from home, and traveling always gets to him. So, he decided to rent an apartment for when he worked away.
When Emma led me to William’s home office, I wondered what my daughter had discovered.
I watched as she went to William’s desk and opened the top drawer, taking out an old box.
“I saw this when I came looking for crayons,” she said.
Emma gave me the box before bolting to her room.
The moment I glimpsed inside, my entire world crumbled.
Inside were photos — images of William hugging another woman and a set of three beautiful children, aged between two and seven years old.
My emotions somersaulted from shock to betrayal to raw heartbreak.
Beneath the photos was a little notebook with numbers scribbled in them. It seemed like a replica of my notebook in my handbag with all the emergency numbers ready.
I knew that I needed to confront William but I didn’t know how to deal with the entirety of the situation. I just knew that Emma needed some stability. It was affecting her already.
I returned everything to the box and stored it on the desk.
As I left the room, I found Emma standing in the hallway, her eyes wide with worry and confusion.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I said. “I promise you, everything is going to be just fine.”
I dropped Emma off at school and then went back home. I took another look at the small book and called Mia, the woman in the photographs. I pretended to be their son’s teacher.
As betrayed as I felt, everything was seamless, thanks to William’s little notebook.
“Hang on,” Mia told me. “Speak to husband, William.”
I heard William’s voice on the phone, confirming my worst fears. I hung up immediately.
As the hours dragged on and the time to pick Emma up edged closer, I needed to do something. I needed some answers before I looked at Emma’s precious little face.
I picked up the phone again, called Mia, and told her everything.
She was just as shocked as I was and revealed that she didn’t know about Emma and me.
Next, I called my lawyer — I needed to end my marriage to William. Emma deserved better. Mia deserved better, and so did her children. I deserved better, too.
A few weeks passed, and Mia came over — we sat and spoke for hours and uncovered the truth — William had just used the both of us, keeping our families in different towns to keep us from finding out about each other.
My lawyer took over for Mia and me, ensuring we would get justice. We also wanted the four kids to get to know each other as siblings — because the children were siblings regardless of what was happening.
Ultimately, we united against a man who manipulated our lives, unveiling a story more convoluted than any soap opera plot.
Our lawyer ensured that we got alimony from William — although we could never figure out how William had managed to marry both of us — and kept the lie going for so many years.
I’ve also gotten Emma into therapy to ensure that my daughter was healing from this traumatic experience. But if I’m being honest, I think the best therapy was Emma getting to know her half-siblings.
My Daughter Kept Taking an Extremely Heavy Backpack to School – I Realized Why When I Finally Met Her Bus Driver
Life as a single mom in the suburbs is a tightrope walk between joy, coffee, and juggling acts. I’m Juliet, a financial advisor, striving to build a career robust enough to secure a bright future for my nine-year-old daughter, River.
Since my husband deserted us and fled to a new state when River was only a toddler, the brunt of parenting fell solely on my shoulders. “At least this way,” my mother said, feeding River, “you don’t have to worry about your daughter learning Richard’s lying and cheating ways. She’s all yours, and you can mold her in the way you want.”
A few weeks ago, we were sitting down to dinner together, and River began telling me all about the latest news at school. She went into a whole explanation of after-school clubs and felt that she should join.
“Okay,” I said, pleased by her growing interest in school activities. “What are you thinking about? Drama? Art?”
River sat and thought about it for a minute, picking at her broccoli.
“I think Art club,” she said.
“We’ll go out and buy art supplies tomorrow,” I promised.
“I’m so excited about this!” River gushed.
I couldn’t mask my relief that River would have something constructive to occupy her time while I was still at work.
One morning, River, brimming with newfound responsibility, declared that she wanted to pack her own lunches to foster her independence. I was standing at the counter sorting out River’s breakfast of cereal and juice while starting her lunch for the day.
“Mom, I think I should start packing my own lunches,” she stated firmly, watching me add her things to her sandwich.
“That’s a great idea, River. I’m so proud of you for taking this step,” I said, encouraging her self-reliance. “But you’ll have to ask me for help when it comes to knife things.”
Our routine continued like clockwork. We had breakfast together, and I walked River to the front of our yard, where the yellow school bus picked her up.
But a few days ago, something changed.
As we got to the bench my father had installed in our yard, I asked River to put her backpack down so I could help her into her jacket.
Moments later, as I pulled the jacket closed, a slight wince escaped her when I tapped her back.
“What’s wrong?” I asked immediately.
River shrugged her shoulders and dismissed it as the weight of her schoolbooks causing discomfort, but the mother in me stirred with worry.
“Are you sure you’re okay? That seemed like it hurt,” I probed, concern lacing my tone.
“It’s just the books, Mom,” my nine-year-old said. “They’ve been really heavy this week,” she brushed off, avoiding my gaze.
“Do you want me to take you to school, then?” I asked her as I checked my watch for the time.
“No, thank you,” River said, as the bus honked around the corner.
Driven by concern and curiosity, I got to my office and called the school.
“No, Juliet,” the secretary said. “We don’t allow the kids to take textbooks home because of how heavy they are. So, they use them at school only.”
Then what was River taking to school?
I decided to leave work early. I wanted to pick River up and talk with her about whatever was going on.
River was a responsible child, and I knew that she wouldn’t be doing anything wrong. But if she was hurting herself in some way, I needed to understand why and what was going on with her.
I parked next to a school bus and waited to see River run out. I followed her to the school bus that did our route and caught a snippet of conversation between River and the bus driver.
“Did she like everything?” River asked the driver.
“She loved it!” the driver said. “Are you sure that it’s okay that you’re bringing things for my Rebecca?”
“Yes,” River said. “As long as Rebecca is happy.”
Who is Rebecca? I wondered to myself.
“River!” I called as other students started to get on the bus.
“Mom!” she exclaimed when she saw me. “What are you doing here?”
“I left work early,” I told her, ready to take the immovable boulder that had been her backpack on her shoulders, which was now suddenly light as air.
“Honey, where are all your things?” I asked.
River hesitated as we walked to the car.
“I’ll tell you at home,” she said.
Taking her hands in mine, I knelt to her level.
“Tell me what’s going on. You can tell me anything, River. And you can trust me,” I encouraged her, trying to soothe her distress.
Through tears, River told me everything.
The new bus driver with whom she had made fast friends had a daughter who was battling leukemia.
“I saw her photo next to the steering wheel, Mom,” River said. “Mr. Williams makes me sit on the seat behind him because I’m so small. So when I saw the photo, I asked him who the girl was.”
I sat back and let River continue. She needed to let the story out—and feel seen and heard.
“Mr. Williams said that Rebecca is only two years younger than me, and that she hasn’t been in school at all. Because she’s stuck in the hospital.”
I nodded.
“So, when we got the art supplies for school, I took two of everything so that I could make a pack for Rebecca, too. And even the clothes, because she said that the hospital is so cold.”
“You’ve spoken to Rebecca?” I asked.
“Yes,” River said, tears streaming down her face again. “Mr. Williams has been taking me. I don’t go to any after-school clubs.”
River sucked in her breath and held it until I spoke.
“Oh, baby,” I said. “You should have told me.”
I was torn between admiration and fear for her safety. We agreed to meet Mr. Williams at the hospital later in the evening. And upon meeting him, his sincerity and gratitude washed away my fears.
“Thank you for allowing and supporting River in this,” Mr. Williams thanked me, assuming that I had been aware of River’s actions.
“Your daughter is wonderful, Juliet,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said. “I would love to do more.”
Mr. Williams smiled at me and led us down a hallway to Rebecca’s room. The rest of the day was spent in laughter and shared stories as River and Rebecca played in the hospital room, their joy echoing off the walls.
Watching them, I realized that my daughter had taught me a valuable lesson in compassion, one that I would cherish and nurture as she continued to grow.
I Overheard My Husband Asking Our 4-Year-Old Son Not to Tell Me What He Saw – Days Later, I Uncovered the Shocking Truth Myself
Paige loves her career, even if it means being away from home a lot. However, when she returns from a business trip, she overhears a cryptic conversation between her husband and her four-year-old son. Little does she know — the thread of her marriage is about to unravel.
When I think about the foundations of my life, there were three that always stood out: my husband, Victor, my son, Mason, and my career. Despite the storms that Victor and I weathered together, including four heart-wrenching miscarriages, we emerged stronger than before the storm.
But then, a pregnancy test came back positive. And three months later, our baby was still thriving in my womb.
So, when Mason came into our lives, it felt like our shattered dreams had finally pieced themselves back together. Mason became the one thing that we focused on unconditionally. Whenever our son needed us, we dropped everything.
“I don’t want a babysitter or a nanny taking care of our son,” Victor said one day when he was cooking us dinner.
“If you can handle the days, then the evening shifts are all mine,” I compromised.
But little did I know, it was during my absence that the fabric of our family began to unravel.
The day that changed everything was like any other. I took a cab from the airport and eagerly awaited to see my husband and son.
When I walked in, the house was oddly quiet, with shuffling upstairs.
Victor’s voice was hushed but urgent — the same urgency that Mason associated with bad behavior and bedtime.
“Buddy, you’ve got to promise me one thing, okay?” Victor said.
“Okay,” Mason muttered innocently. “What is it?”
“You’ve got to promise me that you won’t tell Mom what you saw.”
“But I don’t like secrets,” Mason said. “Why can’t I tell Mommy?”
“It’s not a secret, Mason,” he said. “But if we tell Mommy, it’s going to make her sad. Do you want Mommy to be sad, buddy?”
“No, I don’t,” he said.
I walked into Mason’s room and found Victor sitting on his bed, while our son sat on the floor surrounded by his toys.
“What’s going on?” I asked, Mason leaping into my arms.
“Nothing, honey,” Victor said, winking. “Just a boys’ chat. Welcome home.”
The week-long business trip that followed was torture. I loved my job, and I loved working on the new campaign we were running. But I hated being away from Mason for so long. Victor’s daily photos of Mason were my only solace until one of the photos brought about more questions than answers.
Victor had sent a series of photos to me — in each of them, my son was playing with a new toy. But in one of the photos, there was a pair of blue shoes in the background. They were not mine. And yet, there they were, in my living room.
I knew that the moment I entered my home, everything was going to change. Either, my husband would confess that there was someone else in his life — or that there was a nanny looking after our son.
A nanny with expensive shoes, I thought.
walked into my son’s room first. He was just waking up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Hi, baby,” I said, kissing his head. “Dad’s not downstairs?”
Mason looked at me for a moment too long.
“Mommy, don’t go in there. You’ll be sad,” he warned, his words echoing the secret pact I had overheard.
Fueled by a mix of dread and anger, I approached my bedroom. The muffled sounds from inside were enough confirmation. I braced myself and opened the door.
Victor swore.
The woman untangled herself from my husband and my bedding.
“Paige!” he exclaimed, sitting up in bed. “It’s not what you think!”
I laughed.
“Do I look that stupid?” I asked him before I felt the tears well in my eyes.
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The woman picked up her clothes and locked herself in our bathroom.
I felt sick to my stomach.
How many women had there been?
How much had Mason seen?
In the aftermath, as I recounted the ordeal to my family, their embrace was a sliver of comfort. My parents encouraged me to get Victor to move out.
“Let him leave,” my father said. “You and Mason need to stay comfortable.”
In the end, Victor moved his things out. But he still denied the affair — apparently I didn’t know what I had seen.
At least he didn’t contest the divorce.
“He’s trying to save whatever dignity he has left,” my mother said on the phone.
Reflecting on the secret conversation that had set everything in motion, I realized that the signs were always there. I had chosen to see only the best in Victor — constantly ignoring the whispers of doubt.
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