My parenting philosophy is quality over quantity, but sometimes the missed dinners, couch cuddles, and bed time stories add up and I get home sick for my kids. So, when my 6 year old daughter tip toed into my bedroom the morning after a late night out for work it was exactly the thing I needed.
When Sandy Hook happened my children were still “babies,” ages 3 years and 10 months. I wept for the parents whose children were killed and witnesses such violence. Now, five years later, I am angry.
It was absolutely beautiful this weekend, and as such, I ventured to the playground with the kids, our first trip of 2017. We went to a playground that we hadn’t been to in a while, one we used to go to all the time. When the kids were young, the playground was our weekend go-to,
So, the last time I did an “A Day in the Life” blog for CTWorkingMoms, my son was 2 and I was 8 months pregnant. That was 2012. Now, my daughter is about to turn 5 and my son is 7 going on 8. Time sure does fly! At that point, I entitled my post,
A couple of months ago, I decided to have a conversation with my son about “the internet.” I didn’t want to make it too intense, but he’s seven–almost eight, and he has his own tablet. He also goes to play dates at friend’s houses. So, as much as I want to have complete parental control over all
This fall, my son came home saying things–political things, that he had heard at school. The things he was saying were complicated and required conversation. A canned response that ‘people have the freedom to vote for whomever they choose’ just wouldn’t suffice. On one occasion, my son asked if a candidate was a liar, and on
Most mornings, I walk my son next door and stand with the other parents, awaiting the bell to ring and for our children to head into their elementary school. And, most mornings, the conversations I have with the other parents as we wait are apolitical, focused on what we did over the weekend, where we’re heading
It happened, and it keeps happening, even when I’m not with the kids. A seemingly harmless, three letter word, “mam.” But when spoken, and to me, “mam” feels like nails on a chalk board. Really, “mam,” how old do you think I am?! “Mam” immediately acknowledges that I am older than the person addressing me, old
God dammit. I was really hoping that my daughter, now 4, and son, now 7, would grow up in a culture free from sexual violence, or at least significantly different than the culture I came of age in. I’m an optimist by nature, so I recognize that this hope was fairly lofty, but “live the
Over the years, whenever I’ve had an extra mom or two around, I’ve mentioned in jest how I sort of understand where the “sister wives” are coming from, minus the sharing a husband thing. Well, this year, I’m participating in a carpool with two other families, and I am just so grateful to be sharing