The School for Good Mothers: A Novel

By Jessamine Chan

Longlisted for the PEN/Hemingway Award for Debut Novel
Longlisted for the 2023 Carnegie Medal for Excellence
Shortlisted for The Center for Fiction 2022 First Novel Prize
Selected as One of Barack Obama’s Favorite Books of 2022!

In this New York Times bestseller and Today show Read with Jenna Book Club Pick, one lapse in judgement lands a young mother in a government reform program where custody of her child hangs in the balance, in this “surreal” (People), “remarkable” (Vogue), and “infuriatingly timely” (The New York Times Book Review) debut novel.

Frida Liu is struggling. She doesn’t have a career worthy of her Chinese immigrant parents’ sacrifices. She can’t persuade her husband, Gust, to give up his wellness-obsessed younger mistress. Only with Harriet, their cherubic daughter, does Frida finally attain the perfection expected of her. Harriet may be all she has, but she is just enough.

Until Frida has a very bad day.

The state has its eye on mothers like Frida. The ones who check their phones, letting their children get injured on the playground; who let their children walk home alone. Because of one moment of poor judgement, a host of government officials will now determine if Frida is a candidate for a Big Brother-like institution that measures the success or failure of a mother’s devotion.

Faced with the possibility of losing Harriet, Frida must prove that a bad mother can be redeemed. That she can learn to be good.

An “intense” (Oprah Daily), “captivating” (Today) page-turner that is also a transgressive novel of ideas about the perils of “perfect” upper-middle class parenting; the violence enacted upon women by both the state and, at times, one another; the systems that separate families; and the boundlessness of love, The School for Good Mothers introduces, in Frida, an everywoman for the ages. Using dark wit to explore the pains and joys of the deepest ties that bind us, Chan has written a modern literary classic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon & Schuster
• Release date: Jan 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781982156145

Jessamine Chan

Jessamine Chan’s short stories have appeared in Tin House and Epoch. A former reviews editor at Publishers Weekly, she holds an MFA from Columbia University’s School of the Arts and a BA from Brown University. Her work has received support from the Elizabeth George Foundation, the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, the Wurlitzer Foundation, the Jentel Foundation, the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center, the Anderson Center, the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, and the Ragdale Foundation. She lives in Philadelphia with her husband and daughter.

Book preview

1.

WE HAVE YOUR DAUGHTER.

It’s the first Tuesday in September, the afternoon of her one very bad day, and Frida is trying to stay on the road. On the voice mail, the officer tells her to come to the station immediately. She pauses the message, puts down her phone. It’s 2:46 p.m. She meant to get home an hour and a half ago. She pulls onto the first side street off Grays Ferry and double-parks. She calls back and begins apologizing, explaining that she lost track of time.

Is she okay?

The officer says the child is safe. Ma’am, we’ve been trying to reach you.

Frida hangs up and calls Gust, has to leave a message. He needs to meet her at the station at Eleventh and Wharton. There’s a problem. It’s Harriet. Her voice catches. She repeats the officer’s promise that their daughter is safe.

As she begins driving again, she reminds herself to stay under the speed limit, to avoid running red lights, to breathe. All through Labor Day weekend, she felt frantic. Last Friday and Saturday, she had her usual insomnia, sleeping two hours each night. On Sunday, when Gust dropped off Harriet for Frida’s three and a half days of custody, Harriet was in the throes of an ear infection. That night, Frida slept ninety minutes. Last night, an hour. Harriet’s crying has been relentless, too big for her body, too loud for the walls of their tiny house to absorb. Frida did what she could. She sang lullabies, rubbed Harriet’s chest, gave her extra milk. She laid on the floor next to Harriet’s crib, held her impossibly perfect hand through the bars, kissed her knuckles, her fingernails, feeling for the ones that needed to be trimmed, praying for Harriet’s eyes to close.

The afternoon sun is burning as Frida pulls up to the station, located two blocks from her house in an old Italian neighborhood in South Philly. She parks and rushes to the reception desk, asks if the receptionist has seen her daughter, a toddler, eighteen months old; half Chinese, half white; big brown eyes, curly dark brown hair with bangs.

You must be the mother, the receptionist says.

The receptionist, an elderly white woman wearing a smear of pink lipstick, emerges from behind the desk. Her eyes flick over Frida from head to toe, pausing at Frida’s feet, her worn-out Birkenstocks.

The station seems to be mostly empty. The receptionist walks with halting steps, favoring her left leg. She leads Frida down the hall and deposits her in a windowless interrogation room where the walls are a cloying mint green. Frida sits. In crime movies she’s seen, the lights are always flickering, but here the glare is steady. She has goose bumps, wishes for a jacket or scarf. Though she’s often exhausted on the days she has Harriet, now there’s a weight bearing down on her chest, an ache that has passed into her bones, numbing her.

She rubs her arms, her attention fading in and out. She retrieves her phone from the bottom of her purse, cursing herself for not seeing the officer’s messages immediately, for having silenced her phone this morning after getting fed up with endless robocalls, for having forgotten to turn the ringer back on. In the past twenty minutes, Gust has called six times and sent a stream of worried texts.

Here, she writes finally. Come soon. She should call back, but she’s afraid. During her half of the week, Gust calls every night to find out if Harriet has new words or motor skills. She hates the disappointment in his voice when she fails to deliver. But Harriet is changing in other ways: a stronger grip, noticing a new detail in a book, holding Frida’s gaze longer when they kiss good night.

Resting her forearms on the metal table, Frida puts her head down and falls asleep for a split second. She looks up and spots a camera in the corner of the ceiling. Her mind returns to Harriet. She’ll buy a carton of strawberry ice cream, Harriet’s favorite. When they get home, she’ll let Harriet play in the tub as long as she wants. She’ll read Harriet extra books at bedtime. I Am a Bunny. Corduroy.

The officers enter without knocking. Officer Brunner, the one who called, is a burly white man in his twenties with acne at the corners of his mouth. Officer Harris is a middle-aged Black man with a perfectly groomed mustache and strong shoulders.

She stands and shakes hands with both of them. They ask to see her driver’s license, confirm that she’s Frida Liu.

Where is my baby?

Sit down, Officer Brunner says, glancing at Frida’s chest. He flips his notebook to a blank page. Ma’am, what time did you leave the house?

Maybe noon. Twelve thirty? I went out for a coffee. And then I went to my office. I shouldn’t have. I know. It was so stupid. I was exhausted. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Can you please tell me where she is?

Don’t play dumb with us, Ms. Liu, Officer Harris says.

I’m not. I can explain.

You left your baby at home. Alone. Your neighbors heard her crying.

Frida spreads her palms on the table, needing to touch something cold and solid. It was a mistake.

The officers arrived around two, entering through the breezeway. The sliding glass door between Frida’s kitchen and backyard was open, with only the flimsy screen door protecting the child.

So your toddler… Harriet is her name? Harriet was alone for two hours. Is that right, Ms. Liu?

Frida sits on her hands. She’s left her body, is now floating high above.

They tell her that Harriet is being examined at a crisis center for children. Someone will bring her—

What do you mean, examining her? Look, it’s not what you think. I wouldn’t—

Ma’am, hold on, Officer Brunner says. You seem like a smart lady. Let’s back up. Why would you leave your kid alone in the first place?

I got a coffee, and then I went into work. I needed a file. A hard copy. I must have lost track of time. I was already on the way home when I saw that you called. I’m sorry. I haven’t slept in days. I need to go get her. Can I go now?

Officer Harris shakes his head. We’re not done here. Where were you supposed to be today? Who was in charge of the baby?

I was. Like I told you, I went to work. I work at Wharton.

She explains that she produces a faculty research digest, rewriting academic papers as short articles with takeaways for the business community. Like writing term papers on subjects she knows nothing about. She works from home Monday through Wednesday, when she has custody—a special arrangement. It’s her first full-time job since Harriet was born. She’s been there for only six months. It’s been so hard to find a decent job, or any job, in Philly.

She tells them about her demanding boss, her deadline. The professor she’s working with right now is eighty-one. He never sends his notes by email. She forgot to bring his notes home with her last Friday, needed them for the article she’s finishing.

I was going in to grab the file and then come right back. I got caught up with answering emails. I should have—

This is how you showed up to work? Officer Harris nods at Frida’s bare face, her chambray button-down, stained with toothpaste and peanut butter. Her long black hair tied in a messy bun. Her shorts. The blemish on her chin.

She swallows. My boss knows I have a baby.

They scribble in their notebooks. They’ll do a background check, but if she has any prior offenses, she should tell them now.

Of course I don’t have a record. Her chest is tight. She begins to cry. It was a mistake. Please. You have to believe me. Am I under arrest?

The officers say no. But they’ve called Child Protective Services. A social worker is on her way.

---

Alone in the mint-green room, Frida gnaws at her fingers. She remembers retrieving Harriet from her crib and changing her diaper. She remembers giving Harriet her morning bottle, feeding her yogurt and a banana, reading to her from a Berenstain Bears book, the one about a sleepover.

They’d been up off and on since 4:00 a.m. Frida’s article was due last week. All morning, she went back and forth between Harriet’s play corner and back to the living room sofa, where she had her notes spread out on the coffee table. She wrote the same paragraph over and over, trying to explain Bayesian modeling in layman’s terms. Harriet kept screaming. She wanted to climb onto Frida’s lap. She wanted to be held. She grabbed Frida’s papers and threw them on the floor. She kept touching the keyboard.

Frida should have put on a show for Harriet to watch. She remembers thinking that if she couldn’t finish the article, couldn’t keep up, her boss would rescind work-from-home privileges and Harriet would have to go to day care, something Frida hoped to avoid. And she remembers that she then plopped Harriet in her ExerSaucer, a contraption that should have been retired months ago as soon as Harriet started walking. Later, Frida gave Harriet water and animal crackers. She checked Harriet’s diaper. She kissed Harriet’s head, which smelled oily. She squeezed Harriet’s pudgy arms.

Harriet would be safe in the ExerSaucer, she thought. It couldn’t go anywhere. What could happen in an hour?

Under the harsh lights of the interrogation room, Frida bites her cuticles, pulling off bits of skin. Her contacts are killing her. She takes a compact from her purse and examines the gray rings under her eyes. She used to be considered lovely. She is petite and slender, and with her round face and bangs and porcelain-doll features, people used to assume she was still in her twenties. But at thirty-nine, she has deep creases between her brows and bracketing her mouth, lines that appeared postpartum, becoming more pronounced after Gust left her for Susanna when Harriet was three months old.

This morning, she didn’t shower or wash her face. She worried the neighbors would complain about the crying. She should have closed the back door. She should have come home right away. She should never have left. She should have remembered the file in the first place. Or gone in over the weekend to grab it. She should have met her original deadline.

She should have told the officers that she can’t lose this job. That Gust hired a mediator to determine child support. He didn’t want to waste money on legal fees. With Gust’s rewarding but poorly paid position, his student-loan debt, and her earning potential, and the fact that custody would be shared, the mediator suggested that Gust give her $500 a month, not nearly enough to support her and Harriet, especially since she gave up her job in New York. She couldn’t bring herself to ask him for more. She didn’t ask for alimony. Her parents would help her if she asked, but she can’t ask, would hate herself if she did. They already funded her entire life during the separation.

It’s four fifteen. Hearing voices in the hall, she opens the door and finds Gust and Susanna conferring with the officers. Susanna approaches and embraces Frida, keeps holding on as Frida stiffens, enveloped in Susanna’s lush red hair and sandalwood perfume.

Susanna rubs Frida’s back as if they’re friends. The girl is on a mission to nice her to death. A war of attrition. Susanna is only twenty-eight, a former dancer. Before Susanna appeared in her life, Frida hadn’t understood that the gap between twenty-eight and thirty-nine could be so potent and deadly. The girl has a fine-boned elfin face, with huge blue eyes that give her a fragile, storybook quality. Even on days when she does nothing but childcare, she wears black winged eyeliner and dresses like a teenager, carrying herself with a confidence that Frida never possessed.

Gust is shaking hands with the other men. Frida stares at the ground and waits. Old Gust would yell. As he did on the nights she hid in the bathroom and wept instead of holding the baby. But this is New Gust, the one who hugs her tenderly despite her delinquency, who’s been made placid by Susanna’s love and toxin-free lifestyle.

Gust, I’m so sorry.

He asks Susanna to wait outside, then takes Frida’s arm and leads her back into the mint-green room, where he sits beside her, cradling her hands. It’s been months since they were alone together. She feels ashamed for wanting a kiss even now. He’s more beautiful than she ever deserved, tall and lean and muscular. At forty-two, his angular face is lined from too much sun, his sandy, graying waves grown longer to please Susanna. He now resembles the surfer he’d been in his youth.

Gust squeezes her hands tighter, hurting her. Obviously, what happened today…

I haven’t been sleeping. I wasn’t thinking. I know that’s no excuse. I thought she’d be fine for an hour. I was just going to go in and come right back.

Why would you do that? That’s not okay. You’re not raising her alone, you know. You could have called me. Either of us. Susanna could have helped you. Gust grips her wrists. She’s coming home with us tonight. Look at me. Are you listening, Frida? This is serious. The cops said you might lose custody.

No. She pulls her hands away. The room spins.

Temporarily, he says. Sweetie, you’re not breathing. He shakes her shoulder and tells her to take a breath, but she can’t. If she does, she might vomit.

On the other side of the door, she hears crying. Can I?

Gust nods.

Susanna is holding Harriet. She’s given her some apple slices. It always kills Frida to see Harriet’s ease with Susanna, her ease even now, after a day of illness and fear and strangers. This morning, Frida dressed Harriet in a purple dinosaur T-shirt and striped leggings and moccasins, but now she’s in a raggedy pink sweater and jeans that are much too big, socks, but no shoes.

Please, Frida says, taking Harriet from Susanna.

Harriet clutches Frida’s neck. Now that they’re together again, Frida’s body relaxes.

Are you hungry? Did they feed you?

Harriet sniffles. Her eyes are red and swollen. The borrowed clothes smell sour. Frida pictures state workers taking off Harriet’s clothes and diaper, inspecting her body. Did anyone touch her inappropriately? How will she ever make this up to her baby? Will it be the work of months or years or a lifetime?

Mommy. Harriet’s voice is hoarse.

Frida leans her temple against Harriet’s. Mommy is so sorry. You have to stay with Daddy and Sue-Sue for a while, okay? Bub, I’m so sorry. I really messed up. She kisses Harriet’s ear. Does it still hurt?

Harriet nods.

Daddy will give you the medicine. Promise you’ll be good? Frida starts to say they’ll see each other soon but holds her tongue. She hooks Harriet’s pinkie.

Galaxies, she whispers. It’s their favorite game, a promise they say at bedtime. I promise you the moon and stars. I love you more than galaxies. She says it when she tucks Harriet in, this girl with her same moon face, same double eyelids, same pensive mouth.

Harriet begins falling asleep on her shoulder.

Gust tugs on Frida’s arm. We need to get her home for dinner.

Not yet. She holds Harriet and rocks her, kissing her salty cheek. They need to change her out of these disgusting clothes. They need to give her a bath. I’m going to miss you like crazy. Love you, bub. Love you, love you, love you.

Harriet stirs but doesn’t answer. Frida takes a last look at Harriet, then closes her eyes as Gust takes her baby.

---

The social worker is stuck in rush-hour traffic. Frida waits in the mint-green room. Half an hour passes. She calls Gust.

I forgot to tell you. I know you guys are cutting back on dairy, but please let her have dessert tonight. I was going to let her have some ice cream.

Gust says they’ve already eaten. Harriet was too tired to eat much. Susanna is giving her a bath now. Frida apologizes again, knows this might be the beginning of years of apologizing, that she’s dug herself a hole from which she may never emerge.

Stay calm when you talk to them, Gust says. Don’t freak out. I’m sure this will be over soon.

She resists saying I love you. Resists thanking him. She says good night and begins pacing. She should have asked the officers which neighbors called. If it was the elderly couple who have faded postcards of Pope John Paul II taped to their screen door. The woman who lives on the other side of the back fence, whose cats defecate in Frida’s yard. The couple on the other side of her bedroom wall, whose luxurious moans make her lonelier than she is already.

She doesn’t know any of their names. She’s tried saying hello, but when she does, they ignore her or cross the street. Since last year, she’s rented a three-bedroom row house near Passyunk Square. She’s the only nonwhite resident on her block, the only one who hasn’t lived there for decades, the only renter, the only yuppie, the only one with a baby. It was the largest space she could find on short notice. She had to have her parents cosign the lease; she hadn’t found the job at Penn yet. West Philly was close to work but too expensive. Fishtown and Bella Vista and Queen Village and Graduate Hospital were too expensive. They’d moved here from Brooklyn when Gust, a landscape architect, was recruited by a prestigious green-roofing firm in Philly. His company’s projects focus on sustainability: wetlands restoration, stormwater systems. Gust said that in Philly, they’d be able to save up and buy a house. They’d still be close enough to visit New York whenever they wanted. It would be a better place to raise children. She’s stuck in the smallest city she’s ever lived in, a toy city where she has no support network and only a few acquaintances, no real friends of her own. And now, because of joint custody, she has to stay until Harriet turns eighteen.

One of the overhead lights is buzzing. Frida wants to rest her head but can’t shake the feeling of being watched. Susanna will tell her friends. Gust will tell his parents. She’ll need to tell her parents. She’s torn off most of the cuticle on her left thumb. She becomes aware of her headache, her dry mouth, her desire to leave this room immediately.

She opens the door and asks permission to use the bathroom and get a snack. From the vending machine, she buys peanut butter cookies and a candy bar. She hasn’t eaten since breakfast. Only coffee. All day, her hands have been trembling.

When she returns, the social worker is waiting for her. Frida drops the half-eaten candy bar and awkwardly retrieves it, getting a good look at the social worker’s taut calves in black capri pants, her sneakers. The woman is young and striking, maybe in her midtwenties, has evidently come straight from the gym. She wears a spandex jacket over a tank top. A gold cross hangs low above her cleavage. Her arm muscles are visible through her clothes. Her dyed-blond hair is slicked into a ponytail that makes her wide-set eyes look reptilian. She has beautiful skin, but she’s wearing a tremendous amount of foundation, her face made up with contours and highlights. When she smiles, Frida sees her gleaming white movie-star teeth.

They shake hands. The social worker, Ms. Torres, points out the bit of chocolate on Frida’s lips. Before Frida can wipe it away, the social worker begins photographing her. She spots Frida’s torn cuticles and asks her to display her hands.

Why?

Do you have a problem, Ms. Liu?

No. It’s fine.

She takes a close-up of Frida’s hands, then her face. She studies the stains on Frida’s shirt. She props up her tablet and begins typing.

You can sit.

My ex-husband said my custody might be suspended. Is that true?

Yes, the child will remain in her father’s care.

But it won’t ever happen again. Gust knows that.

Ms. Liu, this was an emergency removal because of imminent danger. You left your daughter unsupervised.

Frida flushes. She always feels like she’s fucking up, but now there’s evidence.

We didn’t find any signs of physical abuse, but your daughter was dehydrated. And hungry. According to the report, her diaper leaked. She’d been crying for a very long time. She was in distress. The social worker flips through her notes, raises an eyebrow. And I’m told your house was dirty.

I’m not normally like this. I meant to clean over the weekend. I would never harm her.

The social worker smiles coldly. "But you did harm her. Tell me, why didn’t you take her with you? What mother wouldn’t realize, If I want or need to leave the house, my baby comes with me?"

She waits for Frida’s response. Frida recalls this morning’s mounting frustration and angst, the selfish desire for a moment of peace. Most days, she can talk herself down from that cliff. It’s mortifying that they’ve started a file on her, as if she were beating Harriet or keeping her in squalor, as if she were one of those mothers who left their infant in the back seat of a car on a hot summer day.

It was a mistake.

Yes, you’ve said that. But I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me. Why would you decide all of a sudden to go into the office?

I went to get a coffee. Then I drove to Penn. There was a file I forgot to bring home. I only had a hard copy. I’m working on an article with one of the most senior professors in the business school. He’s complained about me to the dean before. When I misquoted him. He tried to have me fired. And then when I got to the office, I started answering emails. I should have been keeping track of time. I know I shouldn’t have left her at home. I know that. I screwed up.

Frida tugs at her hair, pulling it loose. My daughter hasn’t been sleeping. She’s supposed to take two naps a day, and she hasn’t been napping at all. I’ve been sleeping on her floor. She won’t fall asleep unless I’m holding her hand. And if I try to leave the room, she wakes up instantly and totally flips out. The past few days have been a blur. I’ve been overwhelmed. Don’t you have days like that? I’ve been so tired I’ve had chest pains.

All parents are tired.

I intended to come right back.

But you didn’t. You got in your car and drove away. That’s abandonment, Ms. Liu. If you want to leave the house whenever you feel like it, you get a dog, not a kid.

Frida blinks back tears. She wants to say she’s not the same as those bad mothers in the news. She didn’t set her house on fire. She didn’t leave Harriet on a subway platform. She didn’t strap Harriet into the back seat and drive into a lake.

I know that I seriously messed up, but I didn’t mean to do this. I understand that it was a crazy thing to do.

Ms. Liu, do you have a history of mental illness?

I’ve had depression on and off. That’s not what I meant. I’m not—

Should we assume that this was a psychotic break? A manic episode? Were you under the influence of any substances?

No. Absolutely not. And I’m not crazy. I’m not going to pretend I’m some perfect mother, but parents make mistakes. I’m sure you’ve seen much worse.

But we’re not talking about other parents. We’re talking about you.

Frida tries to steady her voice. I need to see her. How long will this take? She’s never been away from me for more than four days.

Nothing is resolved that quickly. The social worker explains the process as if she’s rattling off a grocery list. Frida will undergo a psychological evaluation, as will Harriet. Harriet will receive therapy. There will be three supervised visits over the next sixty days. The state will collect data. CPS is rolling out a new program.

I’ll make my recommendation, the social worker says. And the judge will decide what custody plan will be in the child’s best interests.

When Frida tries to speak, the social worker stops her. Ms. Liu, be glad the child’s father is in the picture. If we didn’t have the kinship option, we’d have to place her in emergency foster care.

---

Tonight, again, Frida can’t sleep. She needs to tell the family court judge that Harriet was not abused, was not neglected, that her mother just had one very bad day. She needs to ask the judge if he’s ever had a bad day. On her bad day, she needed to get out of the house of her mind, trapped in the house of her body, trapped in the house where Harriet sat in her ExerSaucer with a dish of animal crackers. Gust used to explain the whole world that way: the mind as a house living in the house of the body, living in the house of a house, living in the larger house of the town, in the larger house of the state, in the houses of America and society and the universe. He said these houses fit inside one another like the Russian nesting dolls they bought for Harriet.

What she can’t explain, what she doesn’t want to admit, what she’s not sure she remembers correctly: how she felt a sudden pleasure when she shut the door and got in the car that took her away from her mind and body and house and child.

She hurried away when Harriet wasn’t looking. She wonders now if that wasn’t like shooting someone in the back, the least fair thing she’s ever done. She bought an iced latte at the coffee shop down the block, then walked to her car. She swore she’d come home right away. But the ten-minute coffee run turned into thirty, which turned into an hour, which turned into two, then two and a half. The pleasure of the drive propelled her. It wasn’t the pleasure of sex or love or sunsets, but the pleasure of forgetting her body, her life.

At 1:00 a.m., she gets out of bed. She hasn’t cleaned in three weeks, can’t believe the police saw her house this way. She picks up Harriet’s toys, empties the recycling, vacuums her rugs, starts a load of laundry, cleans the soiled ExerSaucer, ashamed she didn’t clean it earlier.

She cleans until five, becoming light-headed from the disinfectants and bleach. The sinks are scrubbed. The tub is scrubbed. The hardwood floors are mopped. The police aren’t here to notice her clean stovetop. They can’t see that her toilet bowl is pristine, that Harriet’s clothes have been folded and put away, that the half-empty take-out containers have been discarded, that there’s no longer dust on every surface. But as long as she keeps moving, she won’t have to go to sleep without Harriet, won’t expect to hear her calling.

She rests on her clean floor, her hair and nightshirt soaked with sweat, chilled by the breeze from the back door. Usually if she can’t sleep and Harriet is here, she retrieves Harriet from her crib and holds her while Harriet sleeps on her shoulder. Her sweet girl. She misses her daughter’s weight and warmth.

---

Frida wakes at ten with a runny nose and sore throat, eager to tell Harriet that Mommy finally slept, that Mommy can take her to the playground today. Then she realizes, with slow-blooming dread, that Harriet isn’t home.

She sits up and rolls her aching shoulders, remembering the social worker and the mint-green room, being treated like a criminal. She pictures the officers entering this narrow dark house, finding frightened Harriet in the middle of the clutter. Perhaps they saw the mostly empty cupboards and refrigerator. Perhaps they saw crumbs on the countertop, balled-up paper towels, tea bags in the sink.

Frida and Gust each kept the furniture they’d brought into the marriage. Most of the nicer pieces were his. Most of the decor and artwork. They were in the process of redecorating their old place when he moved out. Her current house was painted in pastels by the owner, the living room pale yellow, the kitchen tangerine, the upstairs lavender and pale blue. Frida’s furniture and decorations clash with the walls: her black photo frames, her plum-and-navy-blue Persian rug, her olive-green slipper chair.

She hasn’t been able to keep any plants alive. The living room and kitchen walls are bare. In the upstairs hallway, she’s only hung a few photos of her parents and grandmothers, an attempt to remind Harriet of her ancestry, though Frida doesn’t know enough Mandarin to properly teach her the language. In Harriet’s room, in addition to a string of brightly colored fabric flags, she’s hung a photo of Gust from eight years ago. She’s wanted Harriet to see her father here, if only his picture, though she knows Gust doesn’t do the same. That is one of the terrible things about joint custody. A child should see her mother every day.

She checks her phone. She’s missed a call from her boss, who wants to know why she hasn’t responded to his emails. She calls back and apologizes, claims to have

Reviews for The School for Good Mothers

[Sandra Mercado · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

haunting, suspenseful and tragic. follow a gut wrenching tail of loss, hope and persistence. a great read!

[Wendy Schoof · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book was great from beginning to end. I really enjoyed it.

[Cozette Elizabeth · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

What a freaking well written book. I kept waiting for the whole thing to be a prank or fake but damn, it is definitely something that could possible happen and is a real nightmare for many people

[elkiedee · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Harriet is a Chinese-American single mum trying to hold on to an academic job with future progression prospects. Then she makes a terrible mistake when she just can't think straight, under pressure, leaving her baby daughter alone in their flat.Social workers take her baby daughter away, and after court hearings, place her with her father and the partner he left then-pregnant Harriet for. Harriet is sentenced to a year's full time re-education programme as a condition for even considering reunification - forget that job! Harriet is living with other women under full time observation, scrutiny and criticism, all having to look after a kind of artificial reality doll baby with regular awful tests which are not designed to help women succeed. Harriet has to work out how to get along, or just deal with, her peers from a range of backgrounds, and there is much how class and race affects perceptions and judgements of women's behaviour.The story was rather harrowing and made me sad and angry many times when reading. I saw aspects of what was likely to happen in advance, but by no means everything. This may feel rather to close to home to anyone struggling with young children in difficult circumstances, but I would recommend this thought provoking near future feminist dystopia novel to any other readers who like fiction that explores social issues.Copy received for review via Netgalley.

[akblanchard_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

In this insightful novel, Frida, a Chinese-American mother, suffers from a parenting lapse and loses custody of her beloved daughter. Her only hope of regaining custody is to complete a year-long, residential reeducation program. As might be expected, the program’s arbitrary standards and emphasis on surveillance highlight modern society’s contradictory ideas regarding motherhood and privacy. The twist is that the program’s inmates are supposed to demonstrate their parenting progress by mothering AI robots designed to look and behave like children.I found this novel gripping, effective, and all too plausible. Highly recommended.

[nivramkoorb · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a debut novel that came with a lotta of hype. It is a disturbing book that takes on a lot of issues. The main story is about Frida Liu(Chinese American) and her very bad day that leads to more bad days. She is a single mother of an 18month old(Harriet). She has joint custody with her ex-husband who left her 3 months after Harriet was born for a younger rich white woman. Frida is in a job below her education level and is overwhelmed on her bad day and ends up leaving Harriet alone for 2.5 hours. Neighbors call the Police(Harriet was crying) and the child goes to CPS(Child Protective Service). At this point the dystopian story unfolds. Everything in the book is a setup for Frida not ever getting a break. Ultimately it is determined that she has to go to the newly developed school for Good Mothers for one year. This school is more like prison as the school uses robot dolls to pair up with the mothers to help them become "Good". Every aspect of Frida's life is examined, measured, and criticized. The book drags a little as we meet the other women in the school and then some men for the companion school for fathers. Chan shows how tough it is for mothers and how fathers get to slide. She also deals with race issues as we delve into her past. It is not a happy book but a worthwhile read that deals with real important subjects. She may even have too much in it. This is a good book for mothers to read. It is fiction so the plausibility of this type of school should not be questioned. Writers are allowed to create their own worlds. A solid debut.

[wiserwisegirl · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Audio book is excellent production. A fascinating dark future for mothers being treated different than fathers, is visited. Haunting ending.

[kayanelson · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I heard Jessamine Chan speak at the Printers Row Lit Fest in Chicago. The School For Good Mothers had been on several debut novel lists that one should read. This book however did not resonate with me. The ending was the best part as something different happened. I found that Frida’s (the bad mother) bad day was actually horrible and what took place at the school was extremely repetitive. Maybe if my children were still young, I could relate more.

[angiestahl-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This presents an alternate, near-future reality in which a US nanny-state-supported DHS, ostensibly acting for the good of the children, figuratively and then literally polices 'good' mothering,' complete with 're-educating' those who don't fall in line. The standard for a 'good' mother is both ever-shifting and completely unattainable, which is the point.Unfortunately, this feels not entirely out of the realm of possibility for a nanny-state government takeover of parenting which is what makes it interesting and discomforting. In recent years, a lot of authors/books have chosen to take an overt position against a particular political party or figure. IMO, that is tired (and tiresome), unnecessarily othering, and it dates the narrative. This book doesn't make that mistake and makes a blistering cultural critique rather than a party-affiliated one. For the right book club, it would make a killer discussion - there are a lot of interesting cultural views - on relationships, parenting, mothering, cultural differences in parenting, the difference between how fathers and mothers are judged, the true enemy of women, the use of science/AI to manipulate and manufacture emotion, and much more.A reviewer suggested reading in the spirit of a Tim Burton movie, but what I kept picturing was tonally closer to Squid Games. This book isn't perfect--it gets a little messy and raw which seems exactly as a new idea should be. In the world of publishing where so many new releases feel like they've been focus-grouped half to death or are derivative, this one - and the author - are worth the investment. Interested to see what Jessamine Chan does next.

[Rachel · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Horrific and haunting. Cannot recommend to other parents out there. Cringed through the whole book, hoping for the end to come and closure to be had. Highly depressing read.

[janarose1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

After leaving her daughter Harriet home alone, Frida is astonished at the response by social workers and the police. Harriet is taken from her, and Frida is put under surveillance. When the surveillance report comes back negative, Frida is given one last chance to regain custody - to attend a year long program designed to turn her into a good mother. I had a hard time getting into this book. I did not particularly like Frida and found her pretty unsympathetic. It took a long time for the book to get interesting, and even then it was slow reading. I understand the author was trying to make a point about a surveillance society, and the intrusion of government, but I wish she had just told a story. Overall, 2 out of 5 stars.

[brianinbuffalo · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Is Chan’s debut novel a bit outlandish – even bordering on absurd in some respects? Perhaps. But “The School for Good Mothers” is also incredibly entertaining and thought-provoking. I was impressed with the brisk pacing of this dystopian tale. True, there’s nothing outstanding about the overall literary execution. But Chan clearly knows how to spin a compelling story in a way that nudges readers to ponder issues such as parenting, mind control and rehabilitation.

[ccayne_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I was surprised by how much I liked this book. At first, I didn't realize the novel would take a very dark turn. Once I did, I found the satire of our judgmental culture very satisfying. Sadly, I could see the truth of institutions being overly involved in people's' lives and not for the better.

[tibobi · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The Short of It:Loved this weird, quirky story about motherhood.The Rest of It:Frida leaves her toddler alone for a few hours and is reported to the authorities. Already struggling with her husband Gust leaving her for a younger woman, not able to find a career worthy or important enough to impress her parents, losing her child is the perfect ending to a very bad day.But all is not lost because she has been sentenced to The School for Good Mothers. This school focuses on the basics of childcare, but gently builds to more complicated matters such as discipline, intent, empathy and the all important eye-contact and inflection and tone. And how is this accomplished? By assigning a life-like robot, or “doll” to each mother. One that requires the constant monitoring of the blue viscous goo that keeps them running. Failing to notice a rise in temperature, failure to change the doll’s fluid regularly, results in the loss of privileges such as phone calls home to her actual daughter, Harriet.Frida, like most of the mothers in this school struggle with the idea of taking on a doll as their child. Let me tell you, these things are life-like and feel things. They express frustration and pain and it’s all recorded by the teachers and observers assigned to each mother. Data collection rarely points to the positives, but instead focuses on the one time Frida pinches her doll, leaving a permanent mark upon her form. The pressure to do well is palpable. Frida’s only goal is to get through it so she can get Harriet back but as she continues to lose her privileges, Harriet becomes more of a stranger as contact diminishes.This was a surprise read for me. I am not sure what I expected but robotic dolls wasn’t it and yet I ate it up. Every word. It’s a strange story and very futuristic but if you compare it to today’s world, mothers are often given the short end of the stick when it comes to childcare. I really enjoyed Chan’s skill in regards to taking a reader through this experience without casting judgment on the parenting choices made.Highly recommend but it isn’t a story to leave you all warm and fuzzy. It’s a little cold and sterile but I tend to like these kinds of reads.For more reviews, visit my blog: Book Chatter.

[sallyelizabethmurphy · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I kept hoping this novel would improve, but the story only became worse. This had to be one of the worst books I have read in a very long time. The premise is absurd, and the writing is abysmal. Do not waste your time.

[rmarcin-630843 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This novel is heartbreaking. A mom, at her wit's end, can't take another moment of her daughter being ill, crying, and in pain. Frida adores her daughter, Harriet, but in a moment of weakness she leaves her child alone for a few hours. Child Protective Services is called to evaluate Frida's fitness to be a mother. Frida is sent to a school to teach bad mothers how to be good mothers. The lengths at which these women are tested in frightening and demeaning. The standards they are held to are unreal and made me so angry. Frida tries so hard, but nothing seems to go right.This book was very difficult to read. Of course, we want children to be in safe, loving homes. But this novel depicts protective services in such a way that I wonder how much is true, and how much the system works against parents who are trying their best.Thanks to Simon and Schuster and Edelweiss for the ARC. All opinions are my own and freely given.

[eesti23 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

"Fix the home and fix society.""I am a bad mother, but I am learning to be good."I was really fascinated by the concept of The School for Good Mothers. The start is a bit slow going, but once Freda arrives at the school, it picks up a bit. There were parts of this book that I found fascinating, for example, the school itself, the lessons, and the tests. I still have mixed feelings about the robot kids. On the one hand I think this was an interesting element to add in. On the other hand I had trouble being able to really visualise them. I would love to see them in a film. There were elements of the story that were lacking. In particular, I was really disappointed by the ending. A far better ending that would have better fit with the premise of the story would have been if Harriet had died while in the care of Susanna and Gust or if Susanna and Gust had also been sent to the school after the low carb incident. Especially as there were people in the school for lesser transgressions. I do think this story could be turned into a really interesting film.Note: This book actually only took me a couple of days to read once I properly got started. The long date range is because I had an appendectomy in the middle.

[livelylady · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

When a mother loses custody of her daughter due to a lack of judgment that did not cause harm, she is sent to the school for a year's sentence. Without giving a spoiler, I will say what follows is the sci-fi part in her "rehab." While it began good, with time into her year of rehabilitation, to me it became less interesting and more ridiculous. Unless you like a sci-fi genre, I wouldn't recommend it. I don't and didn't know it was like this.

[citizenjoyce · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

With the coming end of legal abortion in the US some conservative politicians are finally admitting that maybe mothers will need some kind of aid with all the babies that are going to be produced. This book tells about the kind of aid the GOP think unworthy mothers deserve - a forced education that leads to the internalization of guilt, despair and a feeling of inadequacy.

[theloislevel · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A different twist on "The Handmaid's Tale" and just as terrifying. How many ways will they find to shackle women? Both chilling and thought provoking.

[labfs39 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Frida Liu is having a bad day. She wasn't slept for more than a few hours a night in days, her eighteen-month-old daughter has an ear infection, and she has a project due at work that could result in her losing her work from home privileges if she turns it in late. She puts her daughter in her exersaucer and runs out for a cup of coffee. Before she knows it, she is getting a call from the cops, child protective services are involved, and her ex and his perfect girlfriend take over while Frida is enrolled in a new state program, "The School for Good Mothers."In a dystopian world not far remote from our own, bad parents are taught the right way to care for, soothe, and instruct children using the most scientific and modern ways. Those who make it through the program can regain parental rights. Otherwise, they will never see their children again.Although Frida is not an entirely likable character, her rehabilitation is chilling. What constitutes good parenting? Or bad? Can maternal love and selfless devotion be taught? Should it be? Instead of carrying sacks of flour in baby bjorns and cooing to raw eggs cushioned in mini faux cribs, as some teen parenting classes required in the past, what modern technology could be used? Who decides what's best for our children?Although it's an interesting concept, I didn't completely connect with the story. It's a strong debut novel, but doesn't reach the level of Ishiguro's novels, for instance. I would have enjoyed exploring some of the issues more and seeing more character development, but it was a compelling plot that kept me turning the pages.

[reader1009-863136 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Dystopian fiction. After leaving her toddler unattended, a Chinese-American mother faces charges and cruel punishment at a school that uses artificially intelligent children. "Bad mothers" are expected to learn to live and exist solely for their children, while fathers are not held accountable for causing any of the problems that contribute to their difficulties (and rich parents who can afford childcare or to stay home don't have to concern themselves with any of it).Very strange story, but plenty of fodder for book clubs to talk about.

[bookmuse56 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Disturbing but RivetingIn a near future America, there is an exactness of who is a good mother and anyone not meeting this characterization will be cloistered for retraining.Frida Liu, a divorced co-parenting Chinese America mother, has had an awfully bad day, when she leaves her 18-month daughter, Harriet, alone at home for two hours while she runs out for a coffee and stops at her office to answer a couple of emails. Meanwhile, Harriet strapped in an ExerSaucer wakes up from her nap screaming, neighbors call the police, and Harriet is removed from the home. Frida finds she is now required to attend the newly implemented Government-run rehabilitation boarding school for “bad mother” for a year. At the school, the “bad mothers” will be retrained on how to be a “good mother” on robot children. Frida will need to pass all the training modules to be considered for having her parental rights restated at the end of the year. While I certainly agreed Frida committed an act that required intervention and correction, I would say kudos to Chan writing skills in how the story reveals the complexities of her story exploring the expectations of mothers and the systems, or rather the lack of systems for supporting mothers.This book also served to illustrate what looks like an equitable solution in reality works is often strife with colorism, sexism, and classism with goals often unattainable except for the economically privileged.I often myself thinking of what Voltaire once said, “Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities.”This compelling and heart-wrenching tale with Hand Maiden vibes and horror aspects makes for a quick read and deserves to be a screen series.I received a copy of this book from NetGalley and the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

[thewanderingjew_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The School For Good Mothers, Jessamine Chan, author; Catherine Ho, narratorIn an imaginary time, in America, there is a grotesque school for wayward parents who have been convicted of some kind of child abuse, often just the result of a normal kind of accident that children are heir to, but sometimes due to actual neglect or abuse; it is a place for the retraining of these recalcitrant parents judged unfit to remain with their children. Our main character, Frida, has been sent there because after three months of supervised visits, with her daughter, she was deemed still unfit to parent her 18 month old daughter, Harriet. She must go away for a year, having no physical contact with her at all, and at the end of the year, after being reeducated, if she passes, she will be returned to society and allowed to care for her child, followed up, of course, by supervision. If she does not pass, and is deemed unfit, she will be forever banned from her child until she reaches the legal age of 18. At that time, hopefully her child will decide to search for her mother. Even the grandparents are forbidden from seeing the child since it is conceivable that they would remind the child of her mother and make it harder for her to adjust to her loss. There is no appeal after final judgment is handed down. The reason for Frida’s incarceration is egregious, Faced with work deadlines she could not meet and a lack of sleep, coupled with the emotional deprivation and desolation surrounding her marriage break-up, she became overwhelmed and could not bear staying in her apartment any longer. She simply walked out, leaving her daughter Harriet alone in her ExerSaucer, and she lost track of time. She did not return as quickly as she had planned, but leaving for even a short time would have been a horrendous lapse of good judgment. The child, Harriet, began to cry, and she cried for a very long time, finally capturing the attention of a neighbor who called the police. They then called Child Protective Services. Frida had joint custody with her ex-husband Gust, so he was given full custody temporarily, while appropriate action was decided. When, Frida was deemed unfit after the supervised visits, she was given a choice by the judge to give up her child or to go to a school to be retrained as a good mother. She opted for that, and she prepared to leave for one year. The care of Harriet was remanded to Gust and his paramour, Susanna.Frida’s parents were originally from China, where her father’s mama, her ahma, had suffered during the Cultural Revolution. Her parents met in America, while both were studying at graduate school. They married and brought many relatives to America. Frida was born in America. She met her husband, a white man, at a party in Brooklyn, New York. They married and she agreed to move with him to Philadelphia. There, she felt like a fish out of water and had few friends. In her late 30’s, she conceived a child. She believed that her life with her husband would be forever, so she was quite overwhelmed when she discovered that while she was pregnant, he began having an affair. Soon, thereafter, her husband left her for his lover, Susanna. Oddly, they were both deemed to be fit parents in this novel, although, unbeknownst to the authorities, Susanna actually sent pornographic texts and pictures to Gust, while Frida was pregnant, and Susanna was a willing participant in the break-up of Frida and Gust’s marriage. In this prison, quasi school, although the aims seemed to be rehabilitation and reform, the methods seemed more apt to encourage recidivism than redemption. When they arrived at the campus, without any luggage as instructed, they were stripped of all personal belongings and given nondescript, unflattering pink uniforms so that they would concentrate only on being the parent deserving of a child. Each woman was given a lifelike “robot” doll, that she had to care for and bond with as if it was her real child. They attended classes with a curriculum geared to teaching them to be good mothers, always putting the child first, as they learned to ignore distractions and their own personal needs. They were forced to repeat a mantra about their bad mothering and narcissism which was agreed, was the reason for their poor judgment and choices. They were sometimes forced to inflict harm upon the robot child, that felt pain and cried, in order to teach the child, and themselves, the proper emotional responses to stress and the real world. The instruction seemed barbaric and cold. The lab coated counselors gave the place the air of an experimental laboratory. The counselors were totally unemotional in their approach to every situation, and they seemed calculating and cold. They were rarely supportive. Further, the judgment of the women’s performances, by the counselors, as in the courtroom by the judges, was largely subjective, leaving no room for error or redress. The campus of this “school”, was surrounded by an electrified fence. If they tried to leave, it would be suicide. If they were expelled, they would lose parental rights forever.Frida always felt as if she was the one blamed, unfairly, but she quickly learned to submerge her feelings and to show gratitude for whatever she received. She learned to speak appropriately to a child, making every moment a teaching, loving moment, as she also learned how much love was acceptable and how much was perceived as coddling and harmful. The demands seemed a bit unrealistic for actual life. She learned about her own past and how it influenced her own reactions, and was encouraged to do better.There is a lot of emphasis on sexual behavior in the novel, and a good deal of filthy language. It neither enhanced nor detracted from the book, and seemed unnecessary to me. Although some of the training seemed meaningful, most of the approach to motherhood seemed absurd and almost misogynous. The men in the program, lived on a different campus there. Their training did not seem as extreme. They did not lose privileges or experience frequent changes in their schedules and/or rules. Unlike our society today, where the men are considered toxic, it seemed the women were considered more harmful, and were not to be trusted or believed by either men or women. Did the program work? Would she learn to care about how her poor judgment not only hurt her child but other? Would she feel real remorse? Does she truly understand what love is, and if not, why not? What makes a good parent? Is parenting different for men and women, and therefore, do they have to be trained differently? Is one parent more important than the other? If both mother and father make the same mistake, are they judged in the same way, punished in the same way? Should they be? Should all punishments be the same or should they fit the crime? Is rehabilitation or redemption even possible? Will a troubled parent always be a troubled parent, repeating the same mistakes even after reeducation? One can’t help recall that Frida’s ahma was abused during the Cultural Revolution, when the elite and educated had to be reeducated. Was Frida the abuser or was she abused?The narrator was superb. She could easily have over emoted or made herself a character, but instead, she chose just the right amount of tone and stress in each situation as she read, emphasizing the moment appropriately each time. The book is an interesting read.

[brangwinn · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

While I don’t love this book as much as Jenna Bush Hager who selected it for the January Today Show Book Club, I thought this was a thought-provoking book on what makes a “good” mother. This debut by Jessamine Chan is set in a dystopian society. Frida, a Chinese American, has a really bad day and she leaves her baby alone for a few hours. She’s a single mom, struggling to survive in Philadelphia with no friends and a husband, who while supportive of her has moved into the apartment of a wealthy girlfriend. Society has deemed Frida, a “bad mother” and this is the constant mantra she and other bad mothers are forced to repeat. She must pass a challenging and rote based year of learning. Each bad mother is given a robot IA doll to work with. The program is intrusive with not only her actions being recorded, but her brain is scanned for attributes that contribute to good mothering skills. Motherhood is a cultural experience, so Frida, raised by her Chinese grandmother and her immigrant college professor parents, struggle with the “American” child centered motherhood model and that of the Chinese which is a more adult centered childhood. It’s a very emotional look at parenthood from the viewpoint of a “bad” mother. While not my favorite book, this would be an excellent book for book club discussions.

[pdebolt_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

This book got more and more ridiculous. When Frida left her child alone for two hours, it was justifiable for CPS to step in and give the child to a fit and willing family member until Frida completed a case plan. It didn't make sense that cameras were put in Frida's apartment and monitored. How is this financed? The "school" stretched limits of credibility. I finally gave up when the robotic children demonstrated emotions that required the attentions of their "mothers." I don't know how it ended because I simply couldn't continue reading. To compare it to The Handmaid's Tale is a disservice to Margaret Atwood.

[micareads · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Frida has "a very bad day" where she left her infant child home alone in order to get a break. The problem is, the neighbors heard her cry and reported it to child services. In an age where child services have been seen as too lenient, Frida is in for reprogramming when it is decided she is a danger to her child. She is sent away to a camp where she will learn to be a better mother strictly devoted to her daughter's care.

The premise of this book caught my eye and I had high hopes for it. In the beginning, the storyline held great promise, but the further I read, the more unbelievable the story became. While I understand the concept of Big Brother, this went overboard. Constant surveillance, brain scans to determine maternal instinct, robot children to practice "motherese" on. It was all a lot to swallow.

[sbenne3 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I really did not like this book. It was a very upsetting viewpoint of motherhood that wasn't thought provoking at all -- it was more just upsetting. I also thought it went on way too long (there weren't any twists and turns, it just documents a year in the life of a dystopian society). I gave it two stars because the writing wasn't bad.

[susan.h.schofield · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was an excellent debut from Jessamine Chan. It was well written and thought provoking. It was also heart wrenching and difficult to read at times. This will make an excellent selection and will incite a lot of debate and discussion. I look forward to reading more from Jessamine Chan in the future. Thanks to NetGalley for the digital ARC.

[geauxgetlit · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

As I finish this book, I honestly feel like I’m about to hurl. The beginning of the book I enjoyed and at first the dystopian school for what CPS considers bad mothers was one of amusement.
However, it became so repetitive and the continuous negativity took its toll on me. The government puts women who aren’t even actual mothers to determine how a perfect mother acts and behaves. They are given no exceptions and your motherhood will be taken away from anyone who isn’t “perfect”.

As a mother of two very unique children, parenting them as a single mom is hard and I’m sure most people would agree to this. Having two children, I can’t have a one size fits all parenting style, in fact my parenting for each child is completely different.

We have so much judgment in this society and don’t tell me you haven’t ever been annoyed by a screaming child in a restaurant or while shopping and think why is that Mom not doing anything?? Nobody is perfect and all Moms make mistakes and should be able to parent their own way when they have the best intentions for their child.

There was real opportunity for this to be so much more, if only it brought more emotions and a build on relationships. I was secretly wishing the stepmom would have been sent to the school also lol.