As far as mothers go, Gillian Darmody isn’t the best, but she’s certainly the most manipulative. This gangster moll was just a teenager when she was impregnated by the biggest political boss in the sordid snow-globe world of Prohibition-era Atlantic City. Fast forward twenty-five years and she’s the matriarch responsible for Jimmy Darmody, who is following in his illegitimate father’s footsteps as a hard and fast crook while his young mother continues her career as a showgirl and occasional mistress. What follows is a twisted web of scandal, sex, slaughter, and deceit, complete with an Oedipal love triangle and beyond. Gillian Darmody is one shady lady, but she has the kind of wardrobe that would drive any self-respecting flapper-lovin’ woman wild. After the jump, a few pieces to get you into the dancing mood, alcohol restriction and incest notwithstanding. Wear these individually to avoid the dreaded “Halloween costume” effect. Keep reading »
Are you a mother? Do you know someone who is? You probably do, and that’s why you should be very concerned about Alabama’s chemical endangerment clause, which aims to protect fetuses from mothers who abuse drugs. Alabama’s law — and others like it — signify a wave of legislation aimed at granting fetuses more rights and women less, effectively treating mothers as second class citizens.
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Mothers have the unique ability to annoy us in a way that no other person can. The smallest gesture, the most subtle glance, the most seemingly innocuous comment is enough to send us into a fit of madness. Why? Because we understand her thought process, her subtext, what she really thinks of our new haircut … even though she doesn’t say it. Her belabored sigh is enough to tip us off. But we know that if mom ever stopped sending us 5-10 chain emails a week (even though we’ve repeatedly asked her not to), we would miss those chain emails. We’d miss them dearly. After the jump, we take a moment to appreciate all the little the things our mothers do that drive us nuts. Keep reading »
If only babies came with an exchange policy, then we’d never have to hear about another mother trying to sell her newborn for $15,000. Bridget Wismer is the latest baby seller to get caught. She allegedly planned to take a trip to Disney World with the bank she made from her baby. Her asking price seems a little low, doesn’t it? Disney World is not that fun.
Click through to see some more mothers who tried to sell their babies. I’m sad that there are enough of theses stories for a full slideshow … but, alas, there are. [USA Today]
It was Saturday in the late afternoon and I was in the middle of ridding my apartment of dog hair when I heard my cell ringing over the hum of the vacuum. My iPhone screen indicated it was my mom calling. Ever since I successfully taught her how to text message a year and a half ago, the majority of our telecommunication has existed in written form, her messages nearly always signed “Love Mom” as if I wouldn’t be sure. I knew her actually calling me meant something was up.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, bringing the vacuum to a stop.
“Hi, hon,” my mom said. “Listen, I just wanted to let you know not to worry, but it looks like I’m about to be arrested.”
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Here’s some exceptionally weird science for you. Sara Ottosson, 25, was born without a uterus and is taking part in what could be the world’s first womb transplant. The donor? Her mom—Eva Otosson, 56, a businesswoman who runs a lighting corporation in the UK. “[Sara] needs the womb and if I’m the best donor for her … well, go on,” explains Eva. “She needs it more than me. I’ve had two daughters so it’s served me well.”
If this all works, Sara could carry a baby in the very same womb she herself gestated in. Keep reading »
I’ve never been a big fan of Mother’s Day. It’s not the commercialization that fuels my dislike, though — it’s that for 14 years, I haven’t had a mother to celebrate.
On September 20th, 1996, my mother’s 36th birthday, she died. Four years earlier, she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. In the intervening time, she endured hours of chemotherapy and radiation, the loss of her hair to the chemo and a breast to mastectomy, a surgery to reconstruct her missing breast, a bone marrow transplant, and countless days away from her family in the hospital. All this while raising three children and making sure that “cancer” was never, ever a dirty word in our house. Keep reading »
My mom has a boyfriend.
For most children of divorce this is nothing new–or perhaps all too common–but for me, this is big. Really big. You see, my mother has been single for most of my life. She has great friends, a close-knit family, and a job she feels passionate about, but she’s never really had a guy in her life since my parents divorced.
A typical Friday for her involves her bathrobe, the couch, our dog, and “The Daily Show” accompanied by the phrase “I like my life just the way it is!” Now, I realize that this sounds like the ideal Friday night for many people, myself included. But, it’s not really about the bathrobe or the TV shows or even the fact that it’s a Friday night. It’s about seeing some variation of this over and over again: My mother, alone. Keep reading »