Over the course of my tenure here, I have spoken (sometimes in person, more often virtually) to all kinds of moms. I often find myself saying something like, "Oh my god, how do you do it?"
Let's stop quibbling about what competent mothers are choosing for their kids, and step it up for the kids that don't have one
If every child with asthma had a 66% chance of having kidney disease, we'd likely screen them for kidney disease. Yet, once ADHD is identified, further educational testing is often put to the side.
Without two opposing sides, there is no war. By passively conceding, and then refusing to take up arms, we will effectively suck every bit of possible dramatic tension right out of their planned, profit-driven story arc.
In the race to be bigger, faster, stronger, we've lost sight of what makes us better: Time with each other.
We may practice attachment parenting (or not), we may chose the bottle over the breast, but we are all bound by the fact that we never, ever feel like we can do enough for our special needs child(ren).
Does it bother you when kids call you Mr. or Mrs.? If so, why? On the flip side, if you're teaching your children to say Mr. and Mrs., how do you handle it when adults tell your children otherwise?
For my son, Eden, food allergies are about how food makes him feel singled out.
While many feel good about helping their kids through tough times, couples do not always see eye to eye on how much support is appropriate and under what circumstances. So what can you do if you and your spouse disagree on if -- or how -- to help your struggling adult child with their finances?
How about we talk about kids for a change? How about we toss out some encouragement for what we are all doing? How about we remind each other why parenting matters? The other stuff can wait.
Society had graciously given us the "tomboy" label to justify our child's behavior, which we gladly used as a wishful excuse. But all too soon it became hard to ignore the earnest pleas for the McDonald's Happy Meal that included the boy's toy, or the innocent requests to wear male clothes.
Most of us are doing the best we can, whether or not we are breastfeeding for three months or three years or carrying our little ones on our hips or pushing them in strollers.
Four and a half months after his sudden deployment, Jeff was sent home. The girls and I made T-shirts with catchy slogans: Welcome Home Baghdaddy; Glad You're Back from Iraq.
My son is now 8 and we had a great Mother's Day this Sunday. How could this have happened? I didn't sleep with my kid or wear him in a sling. I left him with a sitter and gave him formula.
The great post-feminist irony is that in an age of hard-won female opportunity, media is channeling that opportunity to a place of hyper-sexualized stupidity. It's not who you are -- it's how hot you are.
Never, I mean never, underestimate the good feeling you get from your child doing something you want them to do. This Mother's Day, my husband...
Like a lot of parents, I've been struck by how active -- though not savvy -- my kids and their friends are with social media.
When my daughter asks whether there's another baby in my not-perfectly-flat tummy, or even why I wear makeup, I find myself bending like a limbo champ to get my answer right.
Is there a natural shift that occurs when we realize we're responsible for more than just ourselves?
Nina Badzin, 2012.15.05