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.
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.
Struggling to find Easter gifts appropriate for your baby or toddler? Get a little creative! Instead of filing a traditional wicker basket, get an item to fill that can be part of the treat.
Every new parent goes through that phase when marriage inadvertently crawls to sulk in a dark corner of the basement, hidden by cobwebs, grieving alone.
Mom radar is real and it’s freaking me out. I swear my child has some sixth sense that tells her when I look too comfortable because she wakes up EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
When we got our new house, we painted one of the rooms yellow. I always thought of it as the baby’s room. And then I had fertility issues.
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.
Fine, I’m not EXACTLY totally finished. There are slots in my daughter’s baby book for photos that are sitting empty that need to be filled. I have to remember what she was given for her fifth birthday party, even though I could confidently guess “princess stuff” and “My Little Pony nonsense” and that would pretty much cover it.
After three babies, I’ve seen it all. And by all, I mean that there’s a continuum that new moms don’t know about as they head into the unchartered territory that is diaper changes.
The box invites you to see Puppy Surprise make weird panting noises. It is not the sound of a happy dog. It is the sound of a dog mid-panic attack.
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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?”
As our kids grow, the firsts come less frequently and the time stretched between them lengthen. We don’t celebrate the later milestones.
We made it: we survived. Fifteen years married. Three kids, countless diapers, everything couples do to build a life. And we made it.
With six kids, I got caught up in the day to day of family life. It’s easy to do. But when I forgot to love my husband, I realized my mistake.