While it's undoubtedly true that one of the best gifts we can give our children is a happy and loving marriage, it's difficult to wrap one's head around the notion of placing children second. Especially young ones. One would hope that parents could be mature enough to realize that once they have a child, that child should be the first priority.
I've adopted a lot of the attachment parenting principles, but co-sleeping isn't one of them. Unless they're sick or scared -- which of course happens from time to time and they're welcome in our bed -- I just can't do it. And I'm OK with that. So, attack me all you want but here are the top five reasons I don't co-sleep.
Getting an epidural is a very individual decision and probably one of the first ones that we, as mothers, feel conflicted about. I wonder if this is due to our actual expectations around our child's birth or if it is how we think we will be perceived if we opt in (or out) of using drugs to manage labour.
That moment when you look at your hands, at your feet; and they look...old. When you look at your body and it seems flabby. When you look at your eyes, and they seem tired. That, my dear Mama, is the moment you realize. That being a mother is the hardest gig you've ever had to do. Harder than anything. Keep on keeping on, soldiers.
I take full accountability for the fact that my kids are hardly ever...nay...are NEVER able to take accountability for their failures. When my son came out of the dressing room, his first words were, "We lost because the refs weren't calling any penalties on the other team." My husband stopped in his tracks, turned to face our little forlorn, sore loser, and said, "No. You lost because you guys stopped skating in the second period."
Oh, Kathie Lee Gifford, how I feel so bad for the way I treated you and for all the things I said. I really do wish I could take it all back and rewind time and cherish every picture you showed and every mundane and not mundane story you ever told about your Cody and Cassidy on Live! with Regis and Kathie Lee. Because I am now you. I am that mom.
This time last year, I read an article about a bucket list for kids. Are we, as parents, really so buttoned up, paranoid and regimented that our kids are really no longer just "going outside to play?" Not the case for my kids. My mom has a saying, "a dirty child is a happy child." I love this rule of thumb and it is so true.
Sometimes a body just needs to know. To feel a mother's love. To know that she is there. That she's within arm's length, when story lines grow dark. Becoming ominous, sinister. That she is only a whisper away. When the plot thickens to a portentous climax. When the theatrics prove a bit too much to take.
I began putting together the pieces of the puzzle: new toys broken -- no, decimated -- in under 60 seconds; clothing cut up with scissors; unfinished food smashed with a toy "hammer"-- my children had been displaying destructive behaviour. Here are some steps I put in place to get my house back, which I call SCABS for short: Supervision, Consequences, Activities, Boredom and Segregation.
Watching The View this morning the controversy whirred around reproductive parts, and what we, as parents, should be teaching our children to call them. The consensus: It just doesn't seem right to hear a little girl referring to her breasts. Boobies is much cuter. Because we're concerned about the cuteness of these body parts on a seven-year-old?
Doesn't every woman love to receive a box wrapped with a pretty ribbon from time to time? Imagine that box was delivered to your door, filled with something new to surprise and delight you once a month? Just sign up for a monthly subscription service that delivers boxes full of goodies to suit your needs.
B.C. Premier Christy Clark's sentiment is that the burden of daycare is a "temporary" one for families. I disagree. Many families cannot afford to purchase a home because of it. Many women (and men) take themselves out of the workforce because of it. Many families go into debt because of it. Many couples decide not to have children (or more than one child) because of it.
American Idol is a great example of what can happen if you aren't honest with your children, and you send them out onto the stage, to fail. My kids are terrible singers. I am a terrible singer. They won't be one of those show contestants who are so painfully awful but are convinced they are the next Kelly Clarkson because their mom said so.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I had a list of all the "dos and don'ts" required for effectively achieving the status of perfect parent. As I swapped my hopes for a career in nursing, and instead chose countless hours of time bonding with my children, in those early days of motherhood when I was stumbling over the educational toys strewn about my home, nobody could have convinced me then that I would become what I am today.