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The truth is, no one prepared me for any of this. Yes, I read about postpartum depression and I read about the sleepless nights, but no one told me that these fears and worries are common and can happen to anyone. I thought I'd be in the clear, and thought I was a bad mother because I was scared. But so many mothers feel the way I did; they just don't talk about it.
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Sometimes we forget, we fail to remember: that even those of us who appear all pulled together and perfect (there is no such human thing) and flawless and complete to the outside viewing world: sometimes we all forget, that as individuals, we still have "moments." Moments when life isn't easy.
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Who doesn't want to be close to their mother, especially on Mother's Day? But for thousands it's just not possible. Being with Mom hurts too much. Her "love" is toxic. It causes too much emotional pain. No time is this more controversial and guilt-inducing than on Mother's Day.
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The moment you announce your pregnancy the entire world suddenly feels the urge to share all their tried and tested tips and advice. It doesn't matter that you're an adult and have, presumably, gotten through life so far relying on your own common sense and life skills.
Forget the mommy wars. Companies pit us against each other and sell more products. Once we realize that mommy wars don't exist and that we are all actually just trying to do whatever works best for us we can focus on talking about our differences and opening ourselves up to what others are doing and have to say.
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"Mom, will you snuggle with me?" my 10-year-old will ask, her arms outstretched from her bed, as I turn to leave her dark room. "Not tonight, sweetie." That's the answer I've been giving her all too often these days, even though I feel a stab of guilt every time I say it.
I could have been there. My son could have giggled for/at David. I don't know. I was yet another harried/perfect professional mum, holding it all together. Prioritizing naps over adult conversation, breastfeeding over tantrums, parenting over intellectual rigour. It would have been fine -- my kids would have been fine -- had I stayed that day.
I just had a moment. Until I turn 40, I will not refer to such as a senior's moment. No, this was merely a parenting moment. A realization. As in one of those moments when you as a parent get to exper...
I desperately searched the surroundings but she had vanished. 'Someone took my child' was all I said when I dialled 911. Rescue crews were already curbside, when my neighbour saw a bright pink jacket floating in the water, he found my daughter, pulled her out of a pond in the nearby golf course our house backs onto.
My life is pretty manic most of the time. I operate mainly on stress-mode. Push the fast-forward button. Live like there's no tomorrow. And there are days when I wonder if I will even make it to the e...
So...let's talk about one of the best kept secrets that the parenting advice books will never touch: the art of pulling "the casserole card." That's when I compile all the gross leftovers. If I was to serve this delectable delight on a night other than which we were about to have the TIME OF OUR LIVES, it certainly would not fly. However, all this changes when we are about to embark on an EXCITING adventure.
My son is celebrating his 13th birthday this month. Here are 13 things I now know, that I didn't know then...and all because of becoming Sam's Mama.
A recent tweet caused me to reflectively ponder my parenting skills (or lack thereof), and to ask myself: What evidence is there to prove my adequacy for this profound responsibility we call parenting? So here they are. Ten evidences that I have actually "parented" in the last 24 hours...in descending order.
Confession time. Along with many other like-minded mothers out there, I concur: Greatness should not be the standard when it comes to mothering. On the contrary, I think it is okay -- dare I say desirable -- to instead be a good enough mother.