While each "Allison" brings a unique background—ranging from MFA-trained fiction writers to professional photographers—their work at MUTHA shares several key themes:
It has been fourteen months since the cereal aisle. Allison is not “cured.” She still loves her children with a ferocity that frightens her. She still packs lunches sometimes, but now it’s because she wants to, not because she believes the universe will collapse if she doesn’t. She still cries in the car. She still has days where she wants to walk into the ocean. mutha magazine article allison
The turning point came not in a therapist’s office, but in a bathroom stall at a trampoline park. Allison’s second grader had refused to wear socks, and the park required socks, and the resulting meltdown had drawn a crowd of other parents—some sympathetic, some smirking. Allison had sobbed in the stall, and a text came in from a friend: “You’re doing great.” She still cries in the car
“I swore I wouldn’t be her,” Allison says. “But I just got a more educated version. I traded ironing for organic cold-pressed juice. I traded church potlucks for anti-vaxxer playdates. The performance was different, but the script was the same: A good mother disappears into her children. ” Allison’s second grader had refused to wear socks,
