“So is motherhood worth it?” asks my colleague somewhat skeptically from across the cafeteria table.
I know why I’m second best. I know that since I’m the one involved in the daily parenting grind, telling her – make your bed, go brush your teeth, get dressed, STOP jiggling my butt! – I’m the prime target for her frustration and anger. I WANT TO BE THE FAVORITE PARENT!
I was advised not to have more children after a high-risk pregnancy resulting in a preemie son. I’m still judged for my decision to have an only child.
To me, mom hair means hair that is way too long and far too neglected. I have not had a haircut since before my second child was born.
Loving like a mother is simply defined by the object of that love. When you love someone unconditionally, you love like a mother.
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.
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?”
Five more minutes has forever been the lament of my son. It started with bedtimes when he was young, and continued through to high school.
I consider walking him right back to our house where he belongs because he is not ready for school. Still, I know the truth: He is plenty ready—I am not.
An innocent dinner exchange helped my kids learn about issues much more complex than chicken wings. Equality and equity.
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