After our hike, we ate a great meal and took a pint at a rustic hiking lodge with a clear view of our mountain. I could not help but think to myself: This is the kind of person that I want to be for my daughter. This powerful, determined, caring, supportive woman. We were changed and it was good.
Dating as a single mom is way more difficult than I anticipated it would be. First, you need to find someone that you find attractive (physically, emotionally, intellectually). If the feeling is mutual, you have the added trial of figuring out if they are a good match for your kid. This is significantly harder. And there is no easy way to do it.
In this polished social media society, where parents seem so put together, it is easy to think that we are failing when we are kicked in the nose by our amazing daughter. But we are not. I am teaching my daughter the value of admitting fault. And she is teaching me so much about firsts, wonder, and patience.
I’ve been working on teaching my daughter about consent for a long time, pretty much ever since I thought she could grasp the idea of her being in charge of her own body.
When my daughter was about 4 years old, I started to notice Facebook posts of friends with kids around her age and the activities they were signed up for. Ballet, soccer, swimming – you name it. I started wondering if we should be signing her up for an activity too.
Back in the fall I wrote about my youngest daughter’s entrance into the world of dance. You can read it here. A soccer mom through and through, I was reluctant to add the “Dance Mom” hat to my collection of ever growing roles and I resisted as long as I could. My tiny dancer, however,
It can be exhausting to try and be the perfect mom and feel like it’s not ever really good enough. Feeling like your child deserves more of you. ❤️
Before I had kids I used to dream of being the perfect mom. You know. The mom who patiently tucks her kids into bed with prayers and songs. The mom who never yells. The kind of mom who makes healthy lunches the night before, whose kids are in bed before 10pm on a school night
As a child I was extremely awkward and clumsy from the moment I started walking. My mother claims she was concerned I would seriously hurt myself since I was constantly falling, tripping, walking into things, and dropping things. I had no interest in any sports so, desperate to give me some “grace” (as she called
Sunday mornings are, unfortunately, not as relaxing as I would like around my home. Because I chose to raise my children Catholic, most Sundays I’m faced with dragging myself and my children out of bed and heading off to church for mass before leaving them all in their religious education classes for the rest of