My once tight, tiny body now has stretch marks and loose skin that covers my stomach and hangs where the umbilical hernia once poked through. And, since I am not only a mother— I am also a wife and a woman—naturally, I want to look attractive and sexy on this vacation.
Author: Stacy DeMarco
… I come in, listen a bit about what the problem is, and solve it quickly by giving the toy back to the original handler or helping to rebuild the knocked down project, which solves the problem quickly so we can move on. At best, maybe I am modeling how to solve each problem, but mostly I am just problem solving and they are just watching, waiting to see if whatever injustice their sibling bestowed upon them will be righted.
And then it came. “Mommy, I have to go poop.” The dreaded words of any newly potty trained child. Because “I have to go poop” does not simply mean “I have to go poop.” It really means, “I had to go poop twenty minutes ago, so THIS.IS.AN.EMERGENCY.”
But loving my husband in that way does not mean that we do not have bad days, or weeks, or months. It does not mean that I see everything he does through rose-colored glasses. It doesn’t even mean that I always like him or what he does. In fact, after ten plus years together, there are days when that man drives me downright crazy. And we argue. Boy, do we argue.
“Mommy, will you play with me?” I pretend I don’t hear it. But it grows louder, “Mommy, MOMMY, MOOOOOOOM!!!” Oh, no! We made eye contact. There is no denying now that I heard it. And my three year old knows too. “In a minute, buddy. As soon as I finish what I am doing,” I
My son’s birthday just passed. He turned six. And although it may sound silly, this was the hardest birthday for me yet. I have seen how much he has learned, grown, and changed over the last year, especially since starting Kindergarten that I cannot help but realize that he is not a little boy anymore.
I had not felt awesome in weeks. I was exhausted beyond exhaustion. I was moodier than normal. My boobs were a little sore every time my kids bumped into me. And, man, was I bloated. Every rational part of me knew that it was the new generic birth control that the pharmacy had given me
I remember how worried I was when my oldest son turned two years old and had not yet said a single word. He was showing signs of significant developmental delays, and we were working with a speech pathologist and a behaviorist from Birth 2-3. We often had multiple sessions per week. I remember how desperately
I used to wonder how two siblings who grew up in the same household with the same parents could experience their childhood so differently … until I gave birth to my youngest son, Dominic. Although he joined our family only two and half years after my oldest was born, I was quickly struck by what