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Where the Hell is My Village?

I often remind myself of the wise African proverb, “It takes a village to raise a child.” I repeat this when I am late in the mornings getting my boys to school, when we are arguing in the checkout line at the store (because they just HAVE to have the gum-candy-shitty-toy hanging in their faces) and when we are trying to do the bedtime routine, which usually ends with mommy yelling something along the lines of, “Brush your teeth and don’t you dare brush one tooth at a time like…

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When Reality Moms Meet In Real Life

#RealityMoms is a place where writers like myself can share about being a mom: the good, the bad, the ugly, the funny, the practical…you name it, RealityMoms has covered it, or will in the future. I’ve had the privilege of writing for the site since it launched, and through that experience have “met” some great women. Want to know a RealityMoms secret? We have an awesome Facebook Group especially for the writers and through that space, we get to “know” each other a bit. (Sorry, you won’t be able to…

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9 Things You Need To Know To Coparent After Divorce

I was chatting with a friend recently about the differences in the way we coparent with our exes. “You and your ex have such a good coparenting style. Your kids are well adjusted and it seems to work. I wish I could have that.” I started to respond with, “You can!” because deep down, I really want to believe that. I sat down to write and started thinking about all the people I know who are coparenting and it struck me: they’re all doing different things. This is because each…

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What It Really Means to Love “Like a Mother”

She stands in the kitchen looking at me. Her hair is stringy and needs to be brushed. She’s shifting from side to side uncomfortably, unsure of what I’m doing there or what to say. Her brother overdosed last night. Her mother is my good friend, and the swirling vortex of grief and community sucked me into her kitchen, stocking the refrigerator and tidying the counters because that feels like something when there’s nothing. “I don’t know how to make lasagna,” she says, glancing at the pan I’m sliding into the…

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Why Mother’s Day Stinks

I just don’t even know why I try anymore. All I hope for is a day that I’m the important one.  A day that my children want to actually BE with me.  A day where they get along—and so do my husband and I.  A day that makes my heart beat and my butterflies flutter.  Just one day out of an entire year to feel like I’m the most important person in the world. Some moms prefer to have the day alone.  Other moms prefer to go to the bathroom…

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