I know that you try your best to be a good mother, partner, daughter, and friend, but all too often feel like you are failing at all of them.

Somewhere, at some point, a woman sat connected to a pump and had gotten more than her baby could eat. Her lactation donation helped my preemie.

He was already in his sophomore year, the tears surprised me. He’s been busy growing up at college. Without me. And he’s doing a damn good job of it.

Last minute playdate with a sancti-mommy? Surprise visit from your mother-in-law? Never fear. SLACKERMOM knows just what to do.

I’ve dropped the weight. My belly looks lumpy and is the antithesis of flat. But I’ve dropped the weight that matters.

Parenting a child with hemophilia means learning how to separate fear from love; they are so intimately bound together in a parent’s heart.

It’s my turn…but somehow I can’t get over my body. Does he notice?

The first day of school would inevitably include the correction of my name in the vast majority of rolls called. It’s not “Rhianna” or “Rhiawwna.” I don’t know why people seem to assume the “n” is silent.

I take issue with the ‘modesty’ pads in sports bras. You know—those pads that sometimes are removable and keep the world at large from knowing when you’re cold.

You know that feeling when you wake up like a shot, mind alert, heart pounding? It’s anxiety.

I graduated high school with a ton of bad advice on establishing a credit rating and almost no concept of financial planning beyond “How to Operate a Savings Account.” I don’t want my kids to do that.

Eighteen gets to be a gut-wrenchingly small number when you realize that’s the number of times you have to make significant memories with your kids.

If your daughter is heading to college next fall, you’re probably in the same place I was last year. It was my daughter’s last summer before college.

rather than dwell on the growing pains of change in our relationship, I prefer to celebrate the positive side of being a parent to my adult kids. And there are so many reasons why…

Before the kids have moved out completely, I’ve decided to try to start preparing for an empty nest – when it’s just my husband and me at home.

The great big book of parenting (which none of us actually receives) never warned me of the absolute fear I would have of an empty nest.

Jonathan, my middle child, graduated from high school this month. Like millions of moms this graduation season, I wiped the