Part 1: The Phone Rule
When I limited my daughter’s screen time to one hour a day, I didn’t expect it to shake our relationship. It wasn’t just about phones—it was about connection, grief, and trust.
She was furious. “You’ll regret this!” she shouted.
A week later, I got a call from school—she was caught using a phone in class. But I had her phone. Turns out, she borrowed a spare from a classmate and hid it in her locker.
At home, I confronted her. She didn’t deny it. “You don’t get it,” she said through tears. “You cut me off from everyone.”
I was calm, but inside, I was heartbroken. I grounded her, but now she barely talks to me. She looks at me like I’m the enemy. I’m scared I’m losing her.
—Meghan
Part 2: The Other Mom
One day, in the car, my preschooler Tess looked out the window and said, “Mom Lizzie says you’re the evil one. She’s the kind mom.”
Later, I checked the nanny cam I’d hidden. There it was: Lizzie and my husband, Daniel—holding hands, sharing a kiss.
I didn’t scream. I took screenshots. The next morning, I called a lawyer.
Daniel made excuses. I hung up. The divorce was quick. No custody fight. I let Tess love who she loved.
Months later, at the beach, Tess whispered, “I miss them… but I think I love you the most.”
I finally cried.
Lizzie invited me to Tess’s birthday. When I asked why she called me evil, she had no answer. I didn’t need one.
That night, Tess cuddled next to me, seashells in hand.
“Did you cry after I fell asleep?”
“Yes, baby.”
“Happy or sad?”
“Both.”
Now, a photo of us—windblown and barefoot—sits on the mantle. I didn’t fall apart. I stood up. And Tess ran to me first.
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