A Love Letter to My Last Child
Dear last child of mine, You are the last baby I will hold, the last baby whose soft body I will smell, the last one I will feed and comfort at night.
Dear last child of mine, You are the last baby I will hold, the last baby whose soft body I will smell, the last one I will feed and comfort at night.
I must have been ten years old when I overheard an older cousin of mine
One day, I came home with my kids, and for the first time ever, did nothing. They were shocked, but no one died. Doing less has changed my life.
Mainly (and this is the key to parenting), I am learning to laugh at MYSELF. You see, I used to take myself SO seriously.
We’re constantly told what we’re doing wrong in raising our children, and I for one am really sick of it. I’m doing my absolute best.
I recently heard a story about a photographer refusing to document a C-section birth, because
I know this is radical thinking (I’m being sarcastic), but honestly – if people actually
I used to be married to someone else. It’s not something many people know about
“We all work so damn hard trying to make our kids lives magical. They’re already
I woke up this morning and heard the devastating news about the events that took