
How to Parent When You Have Hearing Loss
I sound like a broken record, even to myself. But what is my alternative? I need to teach my children how to speak to me so I can hear them.
I sound like a broken record, even to myself. But what is my alternative? I need to teach my children how to speak to me so I can hear them.
Today I showered. That was it. That’s all I accomplished for the entire day.
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.
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.
Reconciling with my changed body is a work in progress and I have worked hard to be kind and accepting to my mid-thirty figure.
It’s been over a year. It was Friday, March 6, 2020. I booked a babysitter and told Jeff we were going to happy hour. That was our last outing for months—everything shut down the following Monday.
My inner badass is in there. I’ve missed her. I pretty much have just been bad. And on some days, I’ve just been an ass. But not today.
“Are you about to get your period?” I think the men who ask this kind of question just have not been schooled. So, I laid it out in an easy-to-read format.
I sound like a broken record, even to myself. But what is my alternative? I need to teach my children how to speak to me so I can hear them.
Today I showered. That was it. That’s all I accomplished for the entire day.
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.
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.
Reconciling with my changed body is a work in progress and I have worked hard to be kind and accepting to my mid-thirty figure.
It’s been over a year. It was Friday, March 6, 2020. I booked a babysitter and told Jeff we were going to happy hour. That was our last outing for months—everything shut down the following Monday.
My inner badass is in there. I’ve missed her. I pretty much have just been bad. And on some days, I’ve just been an ass. But not today.
“Are you about to get your period?” I think the men who ask this kind of question just have not been schooled. So, I laid it out in an easy-to-read format.