As our kids grow, the firsts come less frequently and the time stretched between them lengthen. We don’t celebrate the later milestones.
When she was four her best friend was your best friend’s daughter. Now your little darling is nine and her friendships have gotten a bit more complicated.
I catch him lying, he knows he’s lying, he knows I know he’s lying…and he lies anyway.
Two of my kids are transitioning to new schools this years. They’re not anxious about academics, they’re worried about losing friends.
While we cannot control our kids’ thoughts or feelings, what we can do is find new approaches so that we are having a conversation versus a monologue.
I have to fight the urge to “fix” my daughter, fight the desire to change who she is. Because children are meant to be unfinished.
The village can be judgemental – If you are too hands-on you’re a helicopter mom; if you let your son or daughter roam you’re reckless and negligent.
I’d been preparing for YEARS when my daughter had her first period. You would have thought I would have been ready for the main event.
I hated you when you wished for your child to “just stay little,” but now I understand. You’ve said it often. “Why can’t they just stay little?”
On some days, my Facebook Memories seem to suggest that I am crappy mom. On others, I am awesome. Facebook tells me that too.
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“Come,” the face said. “Let me help you break free of this average life. Let me help you find your joy by throwing away half your stuff.”
My children take melatonin. Every. Single. Night. We refer to their nightly doses as their “meds.” As in, “Are you ready to brush your teeth, or do you still need your meds?”
“Our neighbor’s daughter died, it was a freak accident and they are out of town…their son witnessed the whole thing… Do you have any advice to share?”
We made it: we survived. Fifteen years married. Three kids, countless diapers, everything couples do to build a life. And we made it.