The GlamMa Struggle No One Talks About: When GlamKids Become Leverage

From the Editor’s Desk

Some posts I write with a smile. Some I write with a wink and a side of sass. But this one? This one comes from the pit of my stomach — the place where the joy of being a GlamMa collides with the heartbreak of being cut off.

If you’ve ever had your access to your GlamKid dangled like a prize at a carnival booth game, you know exactly where I’m coming from.

This isn’t the glossy fairytale GlamMa story. This is real talk about love, access, boundaries — and the games adults play with kids who deserve better.

The Rollercoaster of My GlamDaughter

Let me tell you about my oldest GlamKid, Vaya. We didn’t even know about her until she was 9 months old. But the minute we did? She became ours. By age 4, we were finally let in, and from that day forward, I was hooked. Every “Can you babysit?” call was a yes, no matter what was on my calendar. I bought every bow, every sparkly shoe, every princess dress. My friends, my family, my employees — everybody adored her. She would cry when I had to take her home.

That bond? Solid. Beautiful. Unshakable.

And then — silence. Calls unanswered. Texts ignored. Doors closed. For two whole years, she vanished. People would ask, “Where’s Vaya? What happened?” I had no answer — just shame and heartbreak.

She came back at 6, then gone again. Back again. Then gone. Most recently? Gone again. It’s been a sick, twisted yo-yo — one that doesn’t just tug at your heart, but shreds it a little more every time.

Don’t Confuse My Role With Yours

Let me be clear — because sometimes spouses, partners, babymommas, or babydaddies forget this part.

If you have issues with the other parent, that’s between the two of you. That’s your story, not mine. Personally? I wasn’t in that relationship. I didn’t live those ups and downs. I wasn’t asked for my opinion when it was happening or when it ended. I was just informed, lol.

But here I am, living with the fallout and being a human yo-yo.

See, my role as GlamMa is different. I’m not your ex, your opponent, or your rival. I’m the GlamMa. The soft place to land for the GlamKids. The “yes” when the world says “no.”

When you use a child as leverage, it doesn’t just cut me. It bruises me. But worse? It cuts them. I’m grown — I can see past the foolishness. They can’t. They only see what they’re told to see. And it turns something that should be pure, unconditional love into something heavy and complicated. That’s not fair to them. And it’s not fair to me.

The Closet Full of Outgrown Dresses

And here’s where the humor sneaks in — because if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.

Do you know how many clothes, books, puzzles, hairbows, and glittery sneakers I’ve bought for this child? Do you know how many bins I have stacked in my closet — one for now, one for two years from now?

Literally stuck in time

Here’s the kicker: half of it is too small now. Out of style. Out of grade level. But I can’t bring myself to throw it away. Because what if she shows up tomorrow? What if she walks through that door, and I don’t have her size?

So I keep it all — the princess dresses, the gymnastics leotards, the books. And now I don’t just have heartbreak. I’ve got a damn storage problem.

Protecting Everyone, Including Me

Here’s the balancing act:

• I have to protect my heart.

• I have to protect my son, who’s hurting as a father.

• I have to advise him on how to navigate something that feels impossible.

• And I have to stay open to loving a GlamKid who may one day return to me full of lies she didn’t ask to believe.

That’s three roles in one: mother, GlamMa, and advisor. None of them come with a manual. All of them come with tears.

The Questions Never Stop

Every time Vaya disappears, the questions start from friends, family, and neighbors:

• “Where’s Vaya?”

• “Why don’t we see her anymore?”

• “Did something happen?”

And what am I supposed to say? That she’s being used like a pawn? That our love is conditional on someone else’s mood swings? So I stand there smiling, making excuses, while inside I’m screaming.

The Hard Truth

If I’m honest, based on how this cycle has gone, I may not see her again until she has GlamKids of her own. And even then? Who knows what story she’ll have been told about me or my family? Because if her mother was mature and reasonable, we wouldn’t even be here. And that’s the part that cuts the deepest.

To My Fellow GlamMas

To every GlamMa, Nana, or Grandma out there riding this same emotional rollercoaster: I see you. I feel you. I am you.

💛 You are not crazy.

💛 You are not alone.

💛 And you are not to blame.

We’re out here loving kids who vanish like magic tricks, buying wardrobes they may never wear, protecting our hearts while still leaving the door open. So here’s my TGL support note to you: set boundaries early. Protect your heart from day one. And know that love — your GlamMa love — is never wasted, even if it’s unrecognized in the moment.

The Challenge

Sis, I want you to write your truth. Don’t sugarcoat it. Don’t pretty it up. Name it for what it is.

• What’s your rollercoaster?

• What’s sitting in your closet?

• How are you protecting your heart and still leaving it open?

Because until we start talking, nobody knows this struggle even exists. And silence is what keeps this cycle spinning.

Final Words

This isn’t just about me. This is about all of us. About children caught in the middle. About GlamMas left in the dark. About love stretched thin by manipulation.

The GlamMa struggle no one talks about? I’m talking about it. And now I want you to, too.

Because together, we can say it louder: our love is real, our role is valid, and our boundaries matter.