no little & not looking, but open to babysitting 🦢
chinese malaysian 🌱 gmt/utc+8 🍀
dni ‼️ zionists, maga, homophobes, transphobes, racist, <16 or >25
- i'm a full-time student & artist so please be patient with messages, inbox, or replies 💕 i'm more active on twitter @mamaposting so feel free to reach me there instead
mamaposting.straw.page
inbox and dms always open 💌
hi sweethearts!
feel free to send anything you want to tell me here. i'm here to listen, so don't worry about rambling. tell me about your
baby who's notices little things and gets easily anxious, which leads to spiraling and scary thoughts
x
mama who grounds her baby and reminds them that while their thoughts are real, they might not always be true. she calms them down and baby's heart settles softly . . 💭
Age regression is always portrayed as this pure super cute, electable comforting thing in social media and I’m sorry but, I’m tired, there’s sometimes it’s not. Sometimes age regressing is extreme feelings, it’s hitting your head and screaming in pain and laying on the floor and kicking and wanting it to stop. Sometimes it’s shaking in anxiety, biting your hands and stimming uncomfortably. Sometimes theres no comfort, sometimes the triggers are not good, and that’s fine too. Age regressing does not mean pure state, it means a much younger one. Just that. It can be violent and ugly too
baby who never had enough love growing up, feeling like they're beyond saving, so asking for it now feels impossible and wrong like spreading a disease
x
mama who might have loved baby very gently, but will never know that because baby never went looking for her . . 💭
baby who finds daily tasks overwhelming, feeling stuck before the day begins
x
mama who walks them through their day - breaking down complex chores into fun little games to complete together, and setting simple timetables for baby to follow when the days are just too much . . 💭
Well, without being annoying by saying too much, I’m on my monthly and it’s making me really dysphoric (not transitioned ftm) and it really hurts and I haven’t been able to regress in a while and I feel like I’m lying or faking by calling myself a regressor :c
hi sweetheart, thank you for sharing something so personal with me. it isn't annoying or too much at all, love. i'm really sorry to hear you're feeling dysphoric :( i know it's such a heavy thing to carry. if it's any consolation, having your monthly doesn't make you any less of the boy you want to be. i hope you're able to find some form of peace in that regard, as hard as it can be ♥️ people go through many biological processes that don't define their identities, both things can be true at the same time!
i also hope you know that you're never "pretending" to be a regressor. if you feel small or want to but aren't able to fully regress, you're still allowed to exist in that in-between space! you don't need to be one thing or the other, you can just be as you are in the moment :) you're not a liar or faking anything, you're still you and you're still safe.
i'm very proud of you for talking about this. you've been nothing but brave! i'm always here <3 take care lovely chris!
hi babies :^) it's been a while since i've been active here, how's everyone? i hope you're all doing well <3 i'd love to talk to you guys again, feel free to reach out ♥️♥️
as a butch kiddo, i really loved your monthly work :) i feel a lot of dysphoria for that stuff, so that’s awesome you wrote about it!! have a good day :):):):)):):):):):)
aw thank you so much for your sweet words! im so glad i could help <33
i hav da best news ever in da history of forever… i got a chest binder! :D ive been wantin one for AGES n i finally got one iss so nice n pretty comfy, i cant wait to wear it tmrw to uni n show all my frens!
nyways thankies for listening to da smol rant, m just so happy i had to say smth, have a whimsical day mama, take care!! :3
hihi lovey!!
omgosh thats such awesome news! im so glad you got it after waiting for so long yayay!! be sure to let your body breathe and not use it for too long at a time 🙂↕️🙂↕️ im so so happy for you <3 yippie!
i hope you had an awesome time showing it off to your friends and you feel more like yourself when wearing mhm mhm 🩷🩷 take care too sweetheart!
💐 sweetpea it’s almost dinner time! why don’t you come in and help ma finish up? hi my love, oo what’ve you got in your hand there? a gift for me? aw thank you so much baby! let’s go put this in our pretty vase so that way i can see this precious treasure every day <3
you don’t even notice the way mama’s eyes lock on you at the dinner table. you keep at pushing your food around the plate like you’re at war with it, the fork barely scraping against porcelain. your tummy feels like it’s tied in knots—the emptiness making the pain grip your heart. the rules in your head get louder the longer the meal sits untouched: don’t eat, don’t give in, you don’t deserve it.
mama noticed every change of heart, every time your hand tenses around the fork. she pulls her chair closer to you. “baby,” her voice low and soft, “can mama sit with you while it feels heavy?”
with your gaze still fixed on the fork, you give the tiniest nod. mama then gently lays her hand over yours. her grounding and steady touch finally gives your body the safety it needs to glance upwards with wide eyes. mama greets your face with a warm smile as her thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand, forming a space where the fear stops and you begin.
“you don’t have to finish anything today, sweet one,” she says. “not for me, not for anyone. it’s okay if it’s hard. you’re not bad for struggling”
the guilt burns hot in your chest anyway. “i can’t, mama,” you whisper, so quiet it barely reaches mama’s ears.
mama nods, like she was expecting that. “that’s okay, my love. we don’t have to do all of it tonight. maybe we can just try one soft thing together. how about some soup, hm? mama knows you love soup.”
she reaches for the bowl she made earlier, gentle steam curling into the air. she offers it without pressure, just giving you something you both know is safe for your tummy and heart. you slowly sit up, not taking the bowl yourself, like you’re waiting for something else.
mama sees the way you look at her and immediately knows. she grabs the spoon, scooping up the perfect amount of broth and guiding it to your lips.
“that’s it, baby. good job,” she murmurs. you swallow and a single tear drops from your cheek. there’s almost a small smile creaking on your face as mama keeps feeding you. both the soup and her love warming up your body in a tight hug.
you proudly finish your bowl of soup and mama gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, setting the bowl down. “see, love? your body knows how to hold kindness. you gave it a little today, and that’s enough.”
“i’m sorry, mama.. i know it’s not enough…” you whisper between stinging eyes, blinking more tears away.
her hand moves to your cheek, rubbing with a gentle hand. “oh, but it is, sweetheart. enough isn’t about how much. enough is about you being here, letting mama take care of you. one sip at a time. that’s all we need.”
your chest loosens just slightly. mama doesn’t push further. she doesn’t measure bites or count sips. she only sits with you, her presence louder than the rules in your head.
“thank you for letting me care for you,” she says softly, kissing the top of your head. “your body will forgive the rest. i already do.”
mama cleans the kitchen up, then joins you for cuddles on the couch with a movie playing on the tv. the evening plays out with the help of the warmth from before.
[binge ED themes below]
the night comes, and everything starts feeling different. the hunger and panic crash in together, and suddenly you’re on the floor—wrappers scattered, chest tight with guilt. you curl up small, wishing you could disappear.
mama finds you there. she doesn’t gasp, doesn’t scold. she kneels, smoothing the hair from your damp forehead. “oh, baby,” she whispers, “that must feel so heavy.”
you shake your head as the shame boils over. “i ruined it,” you choke out. “i couldn’t stop. i’m disgusting-”
mama hushes you with a kiss to your temple. “no, love. you’re not ruined. your body just got scared and wanted comfort. it doesn’t make you bad. it just means you’re hurting.”
she pulls you in, rubbing your trembling frame. she waits until your breathing slows enough, then offers her hand. when you take it, she helps you up carefully, as if every part of you is fragile. “come sit with mama,” she says.
on the couch, she presses a glass of water into your palms. “here, baby bun. small sips, okay? your body’s been through a lot, my love. water will help it settle.” she doesn’t leave until you drink, her hand stroking your back in steady circles.
“i feel so sick,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your tummy. mama gives your hand a soft squeeze.
“i know, sweetheart..” she tucks a pillow into your middle, giving you something soft to hold. “hug this. let your body calm down. mama’s got you right here.” she hugs you tight.
you cling to the pillow, leaning into her side, face pressing against her shoulder. she rubs slow circles over your hand that rests on the fabric, grounding your body as it processes the intensity of today.
“you’re safe, my darling,” she murmurs. “no one’s angry and you’re not in trouble. not for having too little, not for having too much. mama loves you in all of it.”
when you whimper again, she guides you to lie down, your head on her lap. “close your eyes, sweet one. mama will help you rest. your body can heal better when it feels safe.”
she places a cool cloth on your forehead, humming while her fingers thread through your hair. the nausea begins to fade into a softer ache, less punishing under her care.
“your body deserves kindness no matter what,” she whispers, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. “whether you eat too little or too much, mama will still hold you, still help you through. you don’t need to be perfect to be loved.”
your tears finally slow. your breathing evens with hers. and in mama’s arms, for the first time that day, you believe you might be safe inside yourself again.
mama puts an end to the intense night, reminding you that you can start fresh tomorrow even if that means another stressful day. you know in your heart that you’ll be safe by bedtime because mama’s here with you.
🍼 all of a sudden you up in the middle of the night to the sound of soft cries. worriedly you roll over and find your baby standing in the doorway hugging their plushed bear. “sweetheart what happened? you’re safe baby, i’m here with you”. quickly realizing they’re too tiny for words you open your arms to them, “are hugs okay sweetie?”. the tiny one doesn’t give a nod but burrows themself in your embrace making you chuckle softly.
you brush their hair from their eyes and move to hold their face, wiping away the last of the tears with care. “how about we go make you a bottle hm? i think that might be a good idea baby”, you feel them nod against your chest. after some light whining from having to be moved so that you can stand, gentle apologies and kisses to your baby’s hair to make up for it, you carry the tired tot out to the kitchen.
bouncing them softly as you heat up one of their premade bottles, “your yummy treat will be ready soon bub, i just need to check the temperature okay? i don’t want to spook you with it”. you get some quiet grumbles in return but the precious little one waits patiently as you test a drop of the sweetened milk on the back of your hand. “perfect, here we go baby”.
once they latch onto the bottle you start the walk back to your room, moving slow to avoid rushing your little one. as you open the door they’re reaching the last drops of milk, their sleepy eyes fighting to stay open longer. gently you say, “i’m gonna get us tucked back in now bub, here’s miss bear for you”. they grab ahold of the soft toy and bring her to their chest.
as you start to lay down yourself, you place one last kiss on their forehead. “you were so brave sweetie, and i’m proud of you coming to find me. i’ve got you, i’m going to be right here protecting you with miss bear, no more scares”. you’re answered with one last nod before they snuggle in closer under your arm with a tiny smile, mirroring the one on your own face.
