They Tried to Rewrite My Role—And Failed
When the Side Piece Starts Playing Mom
I was already drowning.
The separation was fresh. My body was shaking from the aftershocks of betrayal. I hadn’t eaten. I hadn’t slept. I was running on fumes, trauma, and prayer.
And then—he dropped another bomb.
“I hired a tutor.”
Like WHAT?
Not a heads-up. Not a question. Not a discussion.
Just a decision—about my child, made without me.
And not just any decision—one that was whispered into his ear by the gatekeeper bestie and the other woman.
Because of course it was.
The Audacity to Interfere
I can’t even begin to describe the level of rage that coursed through my body in that moment.
These women—who had no place, no rights, and no business—were not only meddling in my marriage, but now?
They were inserting themselves into my role as a mother.
Like they had a say.
Like they knew anything.
Like they were allowed.
One was a “friend” handing out unsolicited advice and shitty library books.
The other? The whore trying to carve out a role in a life that didn’t belong to her.
They had decided—together, like they were on some PTA board of delusion—that my son needed a reading tutor.
Let me be clear:
My son didn’t need a damn tutor.
He was homeschooled. Well-rounded. Kind. Intelligent. Compassionate.
He was loved.
He was fine.
“They didn’t care about helping him. They cared about erasing me.”
Parenting by Proxy: The Gatekeeper & The Whore
That “friend”?
She was the gatekeeper. The enabler. The one who managed their liaisons like a secretary manages an Outlook calendar.
She was in it—deep.
Not just watching the trainwreck. She was stoking the fire.
She should have stayed the hell out of it.
Instead, she acted like she knew my child.
Like her “insight” somehow trumped my motherhood.
And the other woman?
She wasn’t just trying to play girlfriend.
She was trying to play stepmother.
She was dictating decisions.
Giving advice.
Judging me from behind a screen, from a distance, with zero understanding of who I was or what I had done for that child. For our family.
She was trying to mother from the shadows.
But she wasn’t a mother.
She was a side piece with delusions of grandeur.
The Fucking Nerve
While I was on my knees sobbing into the carpet,
While I was trying to keep food down,
While I was whispering please, God, just let me get through the next hour—
These two bitches were in a room somewhere, talking about my child.
My son.
The boy I carried.
The boy I taught to read, to tie his shoes, to be gentle and brave.
The boy who was caught in a war zone that none of them had to live through.
And they had the fucking nerve to question me?
“How fucking DARE you.”
You Thought You Knew Better?
They looked at my grief and assumed I was weak.
They looked at my child and assumed he was neglected.
They looked at my homeschooling and assumed he was behind.
But here’s the truth:
That child they were so worried about?
Graduated undergrad with honors.
Graduated grad school with honors.
He is thriving.
Despite them.
Because of me.
“They thought they knew what was best for him.
But they didn’t even know what was best for themselves.”
The Unforgivable Line
There are many lines you can cross.
You can lie to me.
You can cheat.
You can leave.
But the minute you come for my child?
That’s a line you don’t come back from.
I can forgive many things.
I’ve done the therapy.
I’ve walked the healing path.
I’ve let go of a lot.
But I will never forgive the moment they thought they could parent my son behind my back.
I was NOT a bad mother.
I was the one doing the work.
I was the one holding it all together when everything fell apart.
They made decisions in secret.
They tried to rewrite the narrative.
They tried to replace me.
And in doing so, they revealed everything about themselves.
“You reached for my child like you had the right.
But all you did was prove how low you’ll go.
And from where I stand now?
You’ll never reach this high.”