Mom watches son masterbait

Hi everyone,
I’ve been a nanny for several years and I’ve recently started picking up weekend babysitting jobs to make some extra money. I had a terrible experience yesterday and I’m having a hard time sitting with it.
A mom saw my ad on a nanny fb group and messaged me. She said she has 3 kids, ages 9, 5, and 4 and needed occasional help. I told her I was available and she said we would set something up.
She text me the next day at 9am saying that she needed a last minute sitter at noon. I was available and honestly needed money so I agreed. After agreeing, she told me that another nanny would be there when I got there. I thought it was very odd that I wasn’t going to meet mom before watching the kids but I went anyways.
I showed up to a very exhausted looking nanny, 3 high energy kids, and a messy house. The nanny introduced me to the kids and left. I started talking to the kids and realized that 5yo is neurodivergent and nonverbal. Ok, another red flag. Mom did not mention this. I have experience with kids on the spectrum so I was prepared but I felt blindsided.
Later, I smelled something bad. I realized it was coming from nk5. I text mom asking if he wears diapers. She says “yes! Sorry, forgot to mention it!” Ugh. So many red flags. At this point I had decided that I definitely wouldn’t be working for them again. I changed nk5s diaper.
Our day is going pretty well. I can tell that these kids have very little structure but they’re all sweet and wanted to play with me. We were playing at a water table outside when nk4 and nk9 started to argue. Nk4 grabbed nk9s hair and would not let go. I got his hands free and carried him inside. I locked the back door so he couldn’t go after his older sister and all hell broke loose. He started attacking me. Punching, kicking, and scratching. When I moved away he chased after me. This was not a typical tantrum.
I called mom, she told me to put him in his room with an iPad. The whole phone call, he’s hitting and scratching me. Then, NK5 starts hitting me too! I think he was just copying his brother. Mom said someone would come soon so I could leave. I got off the phone, put him in a room with his iPad and he finally calmed down. I left him alone. About 30 minutes later, the doorbell rang. It wasn’t mom! It was another nanny! I asked her if she had worked for them before and she said yes. I told her what happened and advised her to keep the peace until mom got home.
I left with scratched arms and a pit in my stomach. The whole experience felt off. Those children are clearly not getting the support they need and it seems like mom just cycles through nannies. I’m not going back. After consulting for a friend who works for CPS, she agreed that the situation is not good but that their needs are being met and CPS likely would not intervene in this scenario.
I feel bad. I know I’m going to be thinking about those kids for a long time. My heart hurts. Any advice or insight would be greatly appreciated.

I think a lot about signals. Signals that show people what groups they belong to. Signals that hide the truth. Everybody uses signals to blend, entice, or trap.
Grandma Pearl died not long after her stroke, and I've been making bad decisions ever since. Maybe my expectations are too high, or I'm just an idiot. Either way, I ran away from the group home to be with people who called themselves my "family." They were the wrong people. They used the words family, brother, sister, and love like lock picks, stealing trust, and taking self-respect.
The only person I remember using the word family correctly was Grandma Pearl. She was a small woman who toured the US as an actress before settling with Granddad above their theatrical rentals shop. I was three when the car accident took Granddad and Mom, so I don't know if they used the word "family" correctly, but I hope they did.
I was never as outgoing as Grandma, but that didn't bother her; she taught me how to watch people. How to see their signals, and how to listen. When she died. I forgot a lot of those lessons for a while.
They called it a "family". The "family" moved product. That product could be goods, drugs, or people.
The uninitiated, like me, were distracted with food and a dry place to sleep, but it didn't take long to see behind the curtain. Things got too intense with the new "family" and I ran.
I ran back to my old neighborhood. The buildings were familiar even if my home was gone. The old theatrical shop had been turned into a microbrewery.
After an appropriate amount of self-pity, thirty minutes, I wandered the alleys, picking up cans or scavenging for bits and pieces that could be recycled, used, or bartered.
I recognized old faces, but I tried to stay out of sight. It was safer that way.
The only place I allowed myself to be seen was the old Lutheran church on the park's far side. Most people who might have known me had aged out of the congregation or died. It was worth the risk because St. Lazarus had a food pantry in the basement and gave out lunches most days, so I wasn't always hungry, which was nice.
I found a dry spot near the library to sleep, which seemed like a stroke of luck until it wasn't.
I had the contentment that came with being in a familiar place. Little bits of comfort let me believe, for a moment, that I wasn't a screw-up and hadn't trusted the wrong people. That moment scurried away when Stick found me.
Stick was a scary asshole. He technically wasn't in charge of the " family," but he made it work. He got things done. I have no idea how old he was. He was all corded muscle and could clock in between twenty and fifty. He looked half-starved and moved like a stalking predator, even with his limp.
His left leg was stiff. The knee didn't bend, and anytime he sat, his left leg would be splayed to the side like a kickstand on a bike. The leg was why he walked with a cane. The cane and how he used it was why we called him Stick.
I don't know why he took the time to track me down. It's not like I was wanted. Maybe it was that I had become property. Property shouldn't just wander off.
Sometimes, you feel a person before you see them. The air is different. When Stick was around, the air felt dead and motionless. I knew I was being watched before I opened my eyes.
Stick was sitting on a milk crate, his bad leg cocked to the side and his forehead resting on his cane. I pushed myself out from beneath the ductwork of the HVAC unit I had been sleeping under and slapped the dirt off my jeans.
"I thought that was you," Stick said as his sharp grin curved up to his unblinking dark eyes.
Stick wanted my discomfort. I'd seen him play the intimidation game too many times. He'd act too friendly, and then when you were good and worried, quick movements, a hand around the back of your neck, and violence would be next. Then he'd act like the whole mind fuck was a big joke, like you were friends, and isn't it great that you can joke around with someone who "really" cared.
It worked, too. If you were the unfortunate focus of Stick's attention, you would be grateful when he smiled and said, "Just a joke, kid. Don't be so sensitive." I'd seen the pattern enough times to know Stick trained people like dogs with his hot and cold game. I didn't like the game, or the fear, so I changed the pattern.
"Hey, Stick, did you come to help pick up cans?" I asked, making sure my smile reached my eyes. I was trying to be pleasant while ignoring the burning nervousness in my gut.
It was still dark out, but I could see Stick's expressions well enough.
Stick tapped his cane on the sidewalk and squinted at me skeptically before answering. "Just checking on my little brother."
We were not related.
Stick liked to call the uninitiated his little brothers or little sisters. He forced intimacy into his language. I didn't argue the point. Interactions went best with Stick when you agreed with everything he said.
"Thanks, man," I complimented, trying to sound genuine and ignorant as I stepped forward and offered him my hand.
Stick didn't move, but I could see that this conversation wasn't going as planned for him, and I forced myself not to react to his confusion. I couldn't break character, or he would know I was playing him.
Stick tapped his cane on the ground twice, grasped my hand, and stood. He watched me. I held his stare, but in an open, naive, guileless way that I had perfected in front of the mirror as grandma gave acting advice while she put her face on.
I once asked Grandma Perl why anyone would practice acting stupid. She pointed her mascara brush at me and, in her ditsiest Minnesota Nice character, said, "It's easier to be forgiven when people think you're a little dumb, don't ya know?" Like with most things, Grandma was right.
Before I understood what had happened, Stick pulled me into his side and slung an arm around my shoulder.
"You don't have a name yet. Everyone gets a name, but they don't get to pick it." He paused and gave me a Cheshire cat grin. "I have a name for you, little brother. You are going to be called Slide." Then he held my chin and forced eye contact." Your name will be Slide because I have never seen anyone slide out of shit faster than you. I can't tell if you do it on purpose or not, and I've been watching. I watch everybody. You do, too. Hell, this might be the first time I've ever heard you talk. So let's celebrate your name, Slide." Stick's smile slipped as he pulled me out of the alley. "We'll go do something special."
I stayed silent, knowing full well what was coming. Being named meant doing something you could never take back. It was public and would put you in prison if the police ever took the time to look for you. It meant severing yourself from your life before and relying entirely on the "family." I had been absent each time naming seemed to be in the cards, but I couldn't duck out this time.
There was only one place to go at this time of night that would have an impact, the Bodega.
The Bodega was a red hole in the wall with a glass door papered over with grocery ads years outdated. Canned salmon two for one seemed to be the dominant theme. Although there were two large windows, one on either side of the door, you could barely see in. The right window was a tapestry of cigarette promotions. The left window displayed the only swath of uncovered glass with a view of the interior. From the outside, the view was of tobacco, lottery scratchers, and Old Lady Imitari.
Old Lady Imitari owned the store. She was a short, dark-haired woman who always wore a long floral tank top. Grandma Pearl loved the old woman but said Imitari looked like an old man's thumb all the years she had known her, and Grandma moved to the neighborhood with Grandad thirty years ago. Imitari was a local legend even then because the Bodega was open twenty hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year, and no one else worked in the store. Grandma used to make an extra strong coffee called Barako and chat with Imitari sometimes when work in the shop was slow.
I would sneak out at night and try to catch Imitari sleeping. No matter the time, I never caught her snoozing, and she always saw me peeking at her through the window. I know she saw me because she would uncross her arms and wave her flyswatter at me.
All these memories flicked through my mind as Stick smiled his too-wide smile and pushed me into the Bodega.
Imitari flicked her fly swatter at me in acknowledgment, and her attention returned to the small TV she had nestled beside the cash register, which seemed to be the old woman's only real tether to the world outside her shop.
The inside of the Bodega was just a long hallway with shelves of convenience foods, drinks, home supplies, candy, and cold meds covering every available surface from floor to ceiling. The only break in the tunnel of products was the glass counter at the back corner of the store; Imitari presided over her mini domain by casually ignoring her shoppers. I tried to make eye contact with the old woman again as Stick pushed me to the back of the shop, but after her initial acknowledgment of our entrance, Imitari's eyes stayed focused on her TV.
As casually confident as possible, I walked to the cooler and grabbed an iced tea. "Want a drink," I asked over my shoulder, my voice unusually steady, given the electric current of anxiety flowing through me.
Stick sneered and tapped his cane twice on the ground. His eyes found all the security cameras in the tiny store, a frown creasing his angular features.
I followed his line of sight and finally realized what had bothered him. The cameras were fake. They looked like security cameras, but they weren't. There were no wires or lenses, just rectangles and circles in a security camera shape.
Stick took a deep breath and tapped his cane on the ground again. " There… is … so… much… here… to… see… but… no… one… is… watching," he said with a singsong. Then his sneer turned into a cruel smile.
I knew Stick wanted an audience for what he would force me to do. The fact that the security cameras were fakes meant that whatever was going to happen would now have to be significant. An event that the neighborhood wouldn't be able to ignore. My stomach twisted with the thought.
Stick waggled his eyebrows at me. He had been watching. He had seen my thoughts, and we both knew he had something terrible in mind.
The cane twirled in Stick's hand and then tapped twice on the shop tile.
"I think I want a little bit of this," Stick said, gesturing wildly with his cane, sending a row of soup cans tumbling to the floor. "And a little bit of that," Stick added as another wild gesture sent cups of ramen spinning and knocking glass bottles of hot sauce to the floor.
I stood paralyzed, unable to run. I was trapped with nowhere to duck away to. I didn't want Stick to hurt Old Lady Imitari, and I didn't want Stick to hurt me, either. The truth was, he would hurt both of us no matter what I did. That was just the way Stick was. I'd seen him. I'd seen him show us who he was every day.
Then I realized Imitari hadn't moved. She was watching her TV and chuckling at the sitcom as if nothing had happened.
Stick glanced at me, confused. I almost felt sorry for the sociopath. His night was not going to plan.
Imitari chuckled at her TV again, and a crease formed in the middle of Stick's forehead, letting me know that he was beyond angry. He was calm, dangerous, and vicious. People had been left for dead when Stick got this way.
Stick raised his cane and flipped it so the handle jutted like a pickax. He was going to attack Imitari.
Somehow, I moved. I didn't do much, but when I slid forward and grabbed the back of Stick's shirt, the cane missed Imitari, and the sharp handle punctured the thick glass top of the counter just above a roll of Lotto scratchers.
Old lady Imitari slowly looked up into Stick's eyes and smiled. Her wide, gentle frown was replaced with a look of joy and something else, something primal, something hungry. Her pupils were blown, and I had the uneasy feeling that I was watching someone be served their absolute favorite meal.
Before Stick could pull his cane from the punctured glass, Imitari casually reached forward, grabbed the cane, and pulled the wirey man forward. Small, old, and wrinkled, Imitari stared into Stick's eyes and overpowered him.
Stick fell forward across the counter. He tried to push himself back, but Imitari's hand clamped down on his wrist like a vice.
Bones ground together as Imitari pulled Stick's hand to her mouth, and with a swift, subtle movement, she bit off the tips of Stick's pinky and ring finger like she was sampling a cookie.
I jumped back next to the cooler as a thin spray of blood arched toward me.
Stick screamed and thrashed, but Imitari's small form was static and immovable. Stick was a fly in a trap. No matter how much he struggled, punched, poked, or kicked, he could not break the old woman's hold. Then, slowly, she took another bite.
It was strangely fascinating watching the frail form of this old woman I had known for years take bite after bite out of Stick. This man, whom I thought of as a predator, a hunter, an enforcer, was crying and begging while an old woman, who looked like a wrinkled thumb in a floral top, quietly devoured him.
I was surprised by the lack of blood after the first spray. I'm sure it was Imitari's crushing grip that stanched the flow of blood. The flesh of Stick's arm looked white from the pressure.
Hand over hand, Imitari pulled Stick forward. Bones cracked as she gripped higher on Stick's arm, clamped down with her long leathery fingers, and fed the flesh and bone, one concise bite at a time, into her open smiling maw. It was rhythmical in its simplicity: chomp, crunch, chew, chew, swallow. Over and over, the pattern continued until the begging stopped.
Stick wasn't dead. He gave up. Not struggling, he laid over the glass counter like a rag doll. He watched me glassily as Imitari took bite after bite, and I knew he wasn't there anymore. Whatever made Stick Stick had either curled up and hidden in a dark corner of his mind or had been devoured with his arm.
The old woman seemed displeased that her meal had stopped struggling. She shook him, but he flopped, and his head lulled from side to side. Imitari frowned, let go of Stick's arm, and pushed down on the limp man's back. Blood gushed from the ragged stump, and Imitari lowered her mouth and drank from the wound like she was sipping from a garden hose.
Stick didn't move. He just grew pail, and eventually, his panicked, shallow breaths ended, and the blood stopped flowing.
Then Imitari stood. With a quick tug, she pulled Stick's body over the counter and let it flop to the floor at her feet. Her eyes closed. A contented smile bloomed on her face as the explosive sound of crunching and cracking bones echoed through the small shop.
The deafening sound of crunching stopped, and only the buzzing of the drinks cooler reverberated through the small space. Imitari opened her eyes and watched me, a broad smile still on her lips. At that moment, I realized I could hear the drinks cooler so well because I had crawled into it, wedged between the glass door and the shelves.
Imitari held me with her gaze as cords of pink flesh lowered from the ceiling and efficiently tidied up Stick's mess, lapping up blood and hot sauce, placing cans on shelves, and scooping up cups of ramen with whip-like tendrils. Then, the cords of flesh nudged me forward, and I stood before Old Lady Imitari.
The thing that I had always thought of as a stern old woman handed me Stick's cane. With the same benign smile I remembered from buying red hots from it as a ten-year-old, it waved me away with its flyswatter, and the cords of flesh pushed me out the door onto the sidewalk.

redacted my post a bit, here we go again :)
• 28 years old • Polish, living in Sweden • interested in long term chatting/snapchatting about daily life and just being friends • married & cat mom interests: • DIY • arts and crafts • watching youtube • nature&animals • working out (recent, new passion)

• if you're interested please send me a message :)

I've been re-watching the series from the beginning, and I'm now at the end of Season 3, which was filmed during the first several months of the Covid pandemic.
I'm shocked to see the Merrifields travel to Cabo with their sons and parents so that Garrick can get Bert pregnant. I'm shocked to see the Snowdens have strangers move in with them and commit to them. I'm shocked to see the Clarks meet up with a young lady at a restaurant. I'm shocked to see the Winders have a stranger fly cross-country and meet their delicate new baby. I'm shocked to see the Joneses continuously pursue other women (though they do seem to take more health precautions than the other couples do).
Basically, I can't believe these people thought that polygamy was more important than public health was. Now that Covid is endemic instead of an urgent health crisis - and life, for most of us, is back to normal - I'm wondering if I was completely wrong in how I handled myself during the first year or so of the pandemic. I didn't date. I didn't travel. I didn't go maskless while in groups or enclosed places. I didn't attend celebrations or make commitments.
Is anyone else here horrified by the recklessness of the Season 3 SSW cast during Covid, or am I completely off-base?

My mom and I are going abroad this summer, which we've done a number of times in the past, but we haven't traveled since COVID and all my sensory tolerances are so much lower than they used to be. I feel like once we get to our destination I'll be able to take care of myself, but I'm so so stressed about the long unbroken flight (10.5-11 hours). I think the longest I've done in the past is maybe 7 hours? We've always broken it up before but this made the most sense.
My mom and I paid extra to have a two seater row so at least we can get up a lot and switch (we're both hyperactive inattentive). But I'm so anxious about the boredom and discomfort in store. Even with my iPad and phone and in flight movies and games and noise cancelling headphones and travel pillow and neck pillow, I know that two hours in I'll be ready to chew my own leg off from the AuDHD discomfort. I will try to sleep but I have sleep issues and most likely will not be able to, I can't even nap at home under ideal conditions and never can usually sleep on transit/sitting up. I just keep realizing just how long 11 hours is and starting to panic.
I routinely do an up to 5 hour flight and that's hard, but easier if I have my laptop to watch something on and my iPad to do a puzzle or play a game on at the same time (I cannot just watch something and do nothing else! Not enough stimulation!) but I can't bring my laptop to Europe, which also makes me really anxious bc it's a regulation tool. I'm most anxious about the physical discomfort and how slowly time will pass. Like imagine finishing 3 full length movies and you still have 4+ hours left. Ahhh!!!
Any advice, commiseration, or suggestions welcome. I feel so lucky to travel, but also, the thought of having to sit on a plane for that long low key makes my wanna die. My body hurts just thinking about it. I'm probably going to pay for Internet even if it's shitty just to have more to do. If I could find a hyperfixation to indulge in it would be easier but idk what it would be that's easy to do on plane. I'm not a big handheld gamer. Are there any really addictive iPad or phone games you like??
I've considered telling the flight staff off the bat that I have a disability and will need to walk around the cabin as much as I can but I don't know how realistic that is. Also don't suggest upgrading our seats, it cost hundreds extra literally to just sit in a two seater row, it would be thousands of dollars more to even move to an exit row because British airlines is fucked.
I've seen those little feet hammock things to put over the tray table but when I tried one one time it really didn't work.

I took my X100VI to my son's basketball tournament just to play around and familiarize myself with it. I often shoot stills of his team with an XT-5 paired with 50-140MM 2.8 Fuji lens. Another parent usually takes video of the entire game and posts it for the team to watch later. That parent wasn't available and they asked me to do the video.
I quickly set up to take in FHD 23.98P instead of 4K (to prevent overheating), 60SS, auto ISO, and f2.8. I did a quick white balance calibration for the awful lighting in the gym.
I set up mid-court, and although the lens is just a tad narrow to capture the scene near the perimeter, gentle panning was all I needed to do, and the built-in IBIS helped (I hoped, since I had neither a gimbal nor a tripod).
I took short clips with the intention of just putting them on a Premiere Pro timeline and rendering out the 30 min+ video to post on YouTube for the parents. A couple of peeks showed that the colors and lighting were all looking great.
But when I got home and pulled the clips off the camera to view them on my mac, the colors and dynamics were super washed out and looked nothing like what was playing back in camera. I finally figured out how to import the Fujifilm LUT into PR and got OK results, but there must be an easier way since I ended up having to color-grade each of those clips individually.
How do you grab casual video off this camera? What am I missing here?

So my three boys and I were doing a bunch of errands the other day. Ages are 17, 14, and 7 the youngest is autistic, level 3, non-verbal. He had been doing really good with all the extra stops and shopping we were doing. For context we stopped at Sam's club for bulk items, the older boys had some money they wanted to spend at a video game store, ate lunch and then hit Walmart for some essential stuff. So, by the time we get through Walmart my youngest is sitting in the cart and starting to have a meltdown. We are on our way to the register and letting him know that he has been so good and strong all day and we were going home and he can watch his YouTube. I overheard a woman telling her friend, "that little brat needs a spanking, not YouTube." The other one laughed in agreement. I just put my head down and decided to focus on what's important, getting my son home. The 17yo decided to use a different approach, he walked right up to the two women and loudly announced, "my little brother has severe autism and a long day. Maybe instead of judging a family and bullying a 7yo kid you could choose to be kind and keep your keep your comments to yourself." The women looked pissed and about to blow up on my son when he added, "I can't believe you two suggested abusing a mentally disabled child, disgusting." That made them go red in embarrassment and walk away.

I'm a teen and I live in a family of 10. There's 4 girls in my family, my 2 baby brothers, my parents, and my grandma. It's not easy have 7 kids in one family. I can never get anything for myself. One time I've been begging my mom to get me a Chromebook since they were giving them away, just for 2 months later for me to never ever use it because my siblings always hide them. But since I'm the only boy in my family other than 6, all of my siblings always gang up on me and they also got my little brothers to do so as well. They always try to make me seem crazy in front of my parents so that they could slap me or ground me. One time my dad told me that he wished that I died because I screamed at my siblings. My little brother is kind of strange, he doesn't much, can't speak, and he never clean up after himself. Which leads me to always watch him and when my siblings are watching him and he does something wrong, they try to pin the blame on me and I get hit by my parents. Also just the fact that we have a big family cause a lot of problems, as I said before, I can never have something for myself and my parents can never afford things even though they have well paying jobs. I don't hate my siblings but sometimes I wonder how life would be without them. But I guess they feel the same my younger siblings may think of me as a rude older brother who doesn't like them.

Im really emotional so idk. My moms not doing well, shes in ICU, has been for a while. She has advanced cancer and we know for sure she only has days at most Im 24f hes 23m. We've been dating a bit over two years
For context, my bf was here for a day and half and left two days ago. Mom was here but doing better. Today it looks bad. It looks like the end but we're just waiting watching and mourning
I texted my bf this morning asking that if he could please catch a flight if mom died. Its only a 1.5hr flight, and i told him I'll cover it no matter what. I just know I'll need the support
His initial response was "I'd like to come but i cant promise". Once i asked what he meant, he responded just with a "okay fine yes" at which point i got upset and told him its okay and I'll try and find support elsewhere in the case of the worst
My original request's phrasing was exactly this: "i know you just went back But if the worst happens, will you please come? I know its a lot to ask. But if it does please just catch a plane and i will figure out and cover the cost later. Even if its like 700, do it, please"
Im super emotional rn so i cant tell if im overreacting. Planes are usually ~$200 or so. Its an easy quick commute usually and we visit each other about once every month

Hello everyone, I hope all of you are well. I am here simply because I need some advice. I’m 24, I work full time, and am planning on going back to school this fall (Super excited). My bf of 2 months and I barely are able to see each other. There are a few deterrents. He lives an hour away from me. We both work full time. We both live with our parents. He isn’t allowed to come over because my mom says so. And I can’t sleepover his house. He also has a son he has 2 days a week (his days off). He’s also in the military and goes away for weeks at a time. And our days off never line up so the most time we get to spend together is like 5 hours then I have to drive home late at night and wake up early to help my mom out with my younger brother before I go to work. So, basically we can only see eachother for a limited period of time. When we’re together it’s wonderful. But it’s 1 or 2 times a week for a few hours. He is also super patchy with texting. I feel guilty because I feel lonely. I made some girl friends which I love, but I want to spend more time with him. We talked about moving In together in the future, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. (I want to move out too, I just don’t have the funds to do it on my own.) idk I am so confused I am crying about it as I type lol. Anyways. Thanks for reading this 😇

Sigh of relief* My wife has been cheating on me on and off since 2019. Stayed for the kids. Have been watching vanlife from the sidelines for 12 years. She told me she's moving out in July. I'm so excited. I have twin daughters (4) and a son (7). I think for the weekends I'll mainly rent airbnbs and hotels. I know that sounds crazy but thats still 1/3rd cheaper than renting a place. I'm saving up for a Toyota sienna. I'm sure some nights we can camp at my brother's and travel on the weekends. That will cut down hotel and Airbnb stays. Everything will be pretty minimal for a bit but I definitely want a solid power system. I can't express how excited I am to start this new chapter of my life and finally be apart of this community I've loved for so long!

So I have consistently worked nights and weekends. Not really annoyed by that but not getting to spend time with my family is getting to me. My husband's schedule with the military puts us in a position where our son is left for hours alone and we all don't really see eachother... we actually enjoy hanging out. My numbers are good, I'm self motivated, and I get great feedback from my SL and customers. Not trying to brag but I feel like I'm a good employee. I also do not need this job. My husband's career more than affords for me to be a stay at home mom. I came back to Gs because I truly enjoyed the customers, atmosphere and getting to dork it out all day. It gave me a purpose outside of my home.
That being said... I am getting burnt out. I said about as much to my SL yesterday and was told that it sounds pretty much like a personal problem... took all my strength to not clap back and walk out... but like I said I actually enjoy working at Gs.
Serious question though. If my SL is refusing to schedule me on a day or two a week, what is my recourse? I don't want to go over his head to my DM but it's either that or I start purposely making my numbers suffer to get my point across... Thanks yall.

Similar to Fairytale, Hum Tum, Suno Chanda, Chupke Chupke, Ishq Jalebi, Tere Aane Se, Chaudhary and Sons, Ishq Murshid
Hello, can anybody please suggest me some good rom coms, comfort dramas/films/telefilms. Even is not a rom com, it should be light hearted, something that a person enjoys watching. I just want a stress free drama to watch, can't find anything good nowadays to watch.

🎵 Sol- Solar Fields
I love having my parents around. After all, the time we have together is limited. Until 2015, I had a passion for living alone. I’ll explain what happened in 2015 later.
Making bread is a perfect way to shut down the mind for a while. I have a peculiar passion for making bread at midnight. While making bread, I enjoy watching mysterious interviews on my favorite local YouTube channels. The day’s topic on Groundbreaking was “mirrors.”
I’ve been obsessed with mirrors since my childhood. When I was a kid, the mirrors on my dad’s dressing table and my mom’s dressing table in their bedroom faced each other. As I looked into the infinite reflections between them, I imagined those reflections were different versions of “me.” At that time, my dad hadn’t told me about parallel universes, but I had already started thinking about them. I even started trying to reach those “me”s. I would stand between the mirrors, perform shamanic dances, and think I could open a portal and reach at least one other reflection.
Who knows, maybe I did? Maybe after that, I became the first reflection.
While making my bread, I turned up the volume on my laptop with my doughy hands. The topic had turned to Kozyrev Mirrors. Could a simple twisted mirror open a portal to other universes? Of course, it could... Would I try such a thing? I would have in the past, but not now. I wouldn’t do it unless I had to.
After leaving the dough to rise and washing my hands, I commented on the video, then took a clip from the video and shared it on Instagram; probably no one understood it. Then I felt an inspiration to write. I opened the book and tried to continue, but I was stuck. But I could still feel the writing energy in my hands. Since everyone was asleep, I couldn’t write to my friends.
I checked the latest posts on the mysterious, mystical, occult accounts I follow on Instagram. I wrote a few things under some posts and then deleted them. I deleted them because some of my comments were critical. Actually, I also deleted the praiseworthy ones. Most people want to be popular, but I’m determined to keep a low profile in this life. I only like to communicate with people who share my interests. But comments written in public places can attract the wrong people’s attention. I don’t want to attract attention; I don’t want to encounter evil; I don’t want to take on anyone’s karmic burden. So, I write and delete. I can no longer remember what I wrote and deleted or burned.
I don’t know why, but I have a hobby of picking on Jack White. Sometimes I like to poke kindred spirits. I threw a few jabs at him, then deleted them. What I wrote wasn’t “troll” material. If he read a bit, they had deep meanings.
Anyway, the guy isn’t a kindred spirit. He doesn’t understand what I say and keeps blocking me. I’d say maybe he’s not the one blocking me, but such arrogance can only be found in a celebrity.
In fact, I could design a Kozyrev mirror in a parallel universe, find this guy, and punch him in the face. Anyway, I’d better stop writing. If this account gets closed, I might withdraw from the internet completely. I’m tired. Sometimes the devil says, take that sigil, go to the depths of hell or whatever the abyss is, stay there for a few seasons, and don’t return without seeing God’s face. Or never return at all!
Things are really bad... Since the day Meher Baba told me in a dream to write, I’ve completely lost control. I can’t stop. I can’t write just for myself. There must be a receiver. I don’t know why. It’s like a flow. And not with a pen; I must write with a keyboard because sometimes my hands can’t keep up with the speed of my mind. The pen slows down or completely stops the flow.
I received philosophical messages from a couple of extremely boring people. Philosophical people bore me.
Then I found exactly the kind of fool (?)I was looking for.

Just a vent but looking for advice.
I (35M) and wife (34F) - we have a 17 month old son. We both have full time careers. Wife works from home, I have a blue collar career with a rotating schedule. My wife works 4 11 hour days a week. She has weekends off, and gets 1 off day during the week that she usually gets to choose, which we will try to schedule for when I work a day tour. Sometimes my days are on the weekend so we are covered, but sometimes my 2 days are during the week. I also work nights, but we are able to get by for that.
I make good money, my job has OT opportunities, and I have a side hustle, so I make enough money to support us. I like having our 2 incomes, but we can get by with just me working. My job is a set rotation schedule so I can't change the hours. I can swap with other co workers but that's not always a guarantee because I need to find someone to swap with that week where it works for them too.
Child care issues / options:
Family - my inlaws are OUT!!! They are no good to me, and my MIL has 5 other grandkids with bad parents that need her more, they barely can get by with both parents working and they need her more than we do, and she prioritizes them. So even if I wanted my MIL to help, she couldn't.
My parents live 2 minutes away, but now they are looking to move away. This week, we needed child care 1 day, and my father told me they can't committ because he needs to wait to see when realtor can show him more properties. This really annoyed me and I was in a scramble trying to swap my day with xo workers. Im not trying to stop my parents from moving, just annoyed my father couldn't give me 1 day, then when realtor does call he simply tells realtor "I'm watching my grandson Tuesday, but I'm available all other 6 days to look at homes".
Day Care - day care is $1550 minimum a month for son to go there the 2 days. This is out. I'm not ready to drop my son off anywhere / he isn't. And for that price, my wife should just not work because that's a good chunk of her salary. Yes I would be paying for that too, but my point is we would be better off just son staying home, wife not working and me working extra to make up the loss of her wages.
Wife's job - I keep asking my wife to talk to her manager and let her manager know what is going on, and for some reason my wife isn't doing this. Her manager already said she can't work part time at her position. But her company has other positions .. so I want to know can they offer her another job title that is part time, can my wife work Saturdays sometimes so when I'm off a weekend she can take 2 days off during week but work on weekend..
My wife wants to work, and doesn't want to quit her job. So that's why single working parent isn't the answer now.
We are trying to hire a baby sitter. But that is just not easy. No one wants to work these days and it's hard for me to trust someone too.
I'm frustrated that I'm worried but my wife doesn't seem worried. She thinks my parents aren't really going to move (even though they have an offer on their home) and I don't know if she fully understands how annoying it is for me when my dad has to out entire week on hold because he is waiting for a realtor to call him. My dad is a good person but has OCD ways where he just has to make everything 10x harder than it has to be and I'm just done and don't want to deal with this behavior anymore.
I'm communicating with people trying to hire a baby sitter. But I just don't know what to do.

I've been watching for a few days now - including the evening when Mom tried over and over to show Baby Stubborn how to fly off. ;)
I have to say, having Athena at the Wildflower Center on webcam has been a welcome respite from all the nastiness in the world. <3

My family always had so many pets when I was growing up, at one point when I was in elementary school we had 8 dogs and 5 cats. That was already a lot. I dealt with a lot of mental illness growing up and addictions to TV, internet, gaming, pornography, etc, didn't care about school, was groomed on the internet, and my parents just let me drop out of high school. From then my mom started really hoarding animals, rescuing cats by the litter over the years to the point where now I think she has 50 cats or so spread between the small cottage we live in and a larger trailer. She works overtime and uses all the rest of her time taking care of all of them as well as feeding other feral cats she can't catch. My dad lost his job and now spends his days in misery cleaning up and taking care of cats, and their marriage is the most toxic thing I've ever seen. My mother doesn't even call my father by his real name, she gave him an unrelated name she just calls him by.
All my life from age 12 to 20 the first thing I heard almost every single morning was them yelling and arguing. I've never seen them show each other love. They're just so toxic and abusive and codependent towards each other.
I've been in relationships where I could move out and live with my partners, but my issues usually end up ruining the relationship. I'm so emotionally stunted and filled with anxiety and insecurity about the future. I can't blame my parents or my living situation for all my problems but I felt unable to really get a good footing in the world for my entire life, or witness models for healthy relationships. Most of my partnerships were codependent and obsessive because I felt such a need to escape from my home life.
I got my high school diploma, drivers license, a car, and have been working entry level jobs for a few years but I know I need to figure out college or something for my future. But the only thing I can afford to do is live in this house and somehow build a future here. I used to have one cat that lived in my bedroom, then my mom got 4 more kittens and they've grown up while I was gone and living with my boyfriend for a year. I moved back here a few weeks ago.
Now what was my only sanctuary constantly needs to be cleaned up, things get knocked off my desk or dragged around, I have two litter boxes in my room, there's cat litter and fur everywhere, I need to listen to white noise to even fall asleep because there are 5 full grown cats getting their zoomies in the middle of the night and they all live exclusively in this bedroom. They defecate at night and because their litterbox is like 8 feet from my bed, I smell it and it wakes me up. (That also can't be healthy for me at all)
My parents and even my mother alone make enough money that we could have a nice middle class life. They could've afforded to send me to college, to have a bigger house, to have money in savings, to go on vacations. Instead, we live in a small one bathroom two bedroom house, my mom lives paycheck to paycheck because she spends thousands of dollars a month on cats.
I feel like I've always been the only one who worried constantly about the future. What happens when all the cats get old and start dying? What happens when the economy gets worse and we have nothing in savings? What if suddenly we can't afford to take care of all these cats? Is it really morally better to rescue cats from living outside so they can live in cramped spaces and not possibly get the attention they deserve as pets?
My mom is mentally ill and is delusional as hoarders are, she will not listen to reason. I think she could also qualify as legitimately insane. My dad is so depressive and ruminates and complains about the living situation/my mother constantly as if I don't already know all of it. Yet I can't help but feel betrayed by him, he's the one who stayed with her as things got worse and worse. He was an adult when all this was happening, I was just a teenager.
I know it might be entitled to expect my parents to just provide me things like a more comfortable/healthy home, college, etc. My mom helps with my car insurance and I do have a bed, a shower, and a roof over my head. I can't act like I have it as bad as people whose parents are legitimately abusive, extremely neglectful, or kick their kids out leaving them to fend for themselves. I'm grateful for my life, I know it could be way worse.
I just can't help but feel like it's such a waste. Some people have hard lives because it's the best they can manage or they were dealt a bad hand. It's harder to have sympathy for people that just make their lives hard for themselves. Maybe my mother being mentally ill and feeling the compulsion to make her entire life about hoarding animals IS really out of her control. But it was still her choice to drastically lower the quality of her own, her husband, and her son's lives. And she has absolutely no remorse or empathy for that.
But even outside of the ways I'd benefit directly from more emotional/financial support from them, I just wish they had better lives? To see parents who either love each other or get divorced so I can stop seeing them at their worst all the time. To have some models of financial responsibility/security that just...makes sense even from the perspective of self preservation. My parents never showed me nothing to look forward to in life besides obesity, addiction, pain, misery, toxic relationships, hoarding, irresponsibility, codependency and things never getting better.

I 30 (f) am fed up with husband 40 (m) For context we have a 1.5 year old, loving and caring for our son is the most important thing in my life . I have been a stay at home mom the whole time. While pregnant we discussed my husband paying me x amount a month so I can do things for myself , like get a coffe or hair cut. I haven't received any, which is okay we have food and shelter I just miss that pinch of financial freedom to care for myself. While pregnant I also made a bill chart so he knows how much all of our bills are when they are due and how much money we will have at any given moment . I'm so frustrated I don't even know where to begin. Well the bill chart was not adhered to in favor of frivolous purchases. Now we are in debt. I mentioned to him I have an opportunity to work part time at my old job. I was told he is not comfortable looking after our child, And it is pointless for me to work for so little money. Well, I respect and appreciate that maintaining the home is my job as well As obviously nurturing and caring for our beautiful child. I get ZERO help. I have mentioned it would be nice if he could take out the trash or feed the animals on his way to work . Doesn't happen and it is pretty difficult to do all that one hand with a child on my hip. There is Plethora of other little nit picky things i could dive into . Suffice it to say I feel like I get no respect in our home zero concern in our interpersonal relationship. While I have voiced my concern repeatedly (and politley) and ask for help I am still always on the bottom of the totem pole. I feel like I'm at the end of my rope yet I'm called a cold bitch when I'm upset with him. For not helping me or not even giving me time so desperately need to gather myself . So am I the asshole ? Or am I. Just expecting to much ?

Last week, my sister and her husband decided they needed a spontaneous getaway and booked a week-long vacation. The catch? They informed me just two days before their departure that they expected me to babysit their three young children. I work from home and have a flexible schedule, but I also have deadlines and meetings, and suddenly taking on full-time childcare was not feasible.
I suggested they look into a professional babysitter or a short-term daycare, but my sister insisted that family should help family and that paying for childcare wasn't in their budget. She reminded me of the times she’d helped me in the past, like when she looked after my cat over a weekend last year. However, I felt that taking care of three kids under 10 for a full week was not comparable to watching a low-maintenance pet.
When I stood my ground and said I couldn't do it, my sister got upset and told our parents, who think I am being unreasonable and selfish, especially since I work from home. They believe I should support her in having some respite as she is a stay-at-home mom and rarely gets a break.
So, AITA for not agreeing to babysit on such short notice, despite the pressure from my family to accommodate her plans?