Elopement is a terrifying word for a parent of a child with autism, and even more so for parents of children who lack verbal skills.
My baby is growing up. She’s gone from napping to texting, walking to playing club sports, learning to eat solid foods to cooking dinner for our family.
Underscheduled? My daughter looks at hobbies like a buffet—today she is on another ballet kick, last month it was pottery. She can't pick just one.
Upydeeh Day School* is reeling this week after a mom emailed the principal with shocking news that her son’s father can also receive emails and make decisions.
I had the opportunity to spend the weekend away from my family at the Big Mother House Retreat. A weekend away is a blessing and a curse.
Our four year old gets an allowance. I read a suggestion of $1 for each year of age which seems appropriate. But we've stressed it's not for doing chores.
Right now, today: I don’t want to be Mommy. I want this season to pass. I want to wake up on the other side of their childhood.
Each year when I send my daughter off to her first day of school, it hurts. Like physically, in my gut, hurts. My breathing feels shallow. My heart seems to skip beats.