Love More, Judge Less
The following guest post comes all the way from the UK! Kate Thompson is a 43 year old Mum of two gorgeous girls, Emily, 14 and Lauren, 8. She’s been married to her husband, John, for 20 years and lives on the North East coast of the UK. She works part-time during school hours but
Sometimes during a stressful day, week or quarter we (moms) doubt why we work. There are a lot of easy answers (the personal fulfillment, money, human interaction, and more), yet, while home on an extended maternity leave I have discovered another reason why being a working mom is a good thing.
In order to keep myself awake I’ve been compiling list of things “to do” when no one else in the world seems awake. Simply getting up and turning on the light does not work anymore (plus who would want to wake up my darling husband).
In my very minimal downtime this week I watched the new episode of This is Us. It should probably be part of doctor’s orders to give it a few weeks before you embark on that show, but I went for it anyways.
It’s November 16th and I’ve got Christmas presents for my kids and my nieces and (soon-to-be nephew) wrapped and packed to go. I am so not that mom!
As I am in my final weeks of my pregnancy, I find myself worrying about things that are out of my control. One big worry is the age gap between my daughter and her soon to be sibling.
Tonight a neighbor walked by and casually said, “Well now what are you going to do when you have three?” Right. She said it. Stone-faced and with no follow up giggle. My reaction was natural: “Wait, did I ask you? Right, keep walking your dog.” (ok fine, originally the f-word was littered in there). But
Our first pregnancy came almost exactly a year after having a miscarriage. We were so excited when we got past the first trimester and could start sharing the news. Course that’s also when I started planning and prepping, everything from room color and decor to types of diapers (we loved those from The Honest Company–you
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
Since Trump’s election, I’ve developed a distaste for the news. Never a real news junkie, until recently I’d devour NPR while driving and check Facebook regularly to be an informed citizen. But the state of the world is bringing me down, and I need to turn it off. Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe it’s the profound disappointment
