It isn't during romantic second anniversary weekend getaways. It's iPhoto, it's the hundreds upon hundreds of Kodak moments in folders with names like "Jimmy's 1st Birthday Party" and "Olivia At Disneyworld -- 2008." This is where babies come from.
Here in the U.S. where we have minimal family support, providing easy access to guns, including assault weapons to millions of angry, depressed, desensitized young boys and men is a bit like throwing lit matches into a gasoline tank.
I have been so blessed to be able to stay home with my kids over the past year and a half. A few months ago, our circumstances changed and we decided I should start to look for something part-time. I have to admit I felt a sense of panic.
What can you do for the women who don't have university educations, or the women who aren't qualified to work for governors or have those golden-handshake connections? Can you promise them that if you scrap the Lily Ledbetter Act, that their employers won't screw them over?
Our haphazard childcare system, with its inconsistent monitoring and paucity of reliable information on the quality of individual programs, makes striking a work-life balance all the more difficult for parents with young children.
Although I knew no one could do a better job at being my daughter's mother than myself, it took a few weeks of talking to friends and family, blogging, and over-analyzing to finally realize that our daycare's webcam wasn't to blame for my feelings of insecurity.
We pride ourselves on admitting only the most tooth-filled infants into our extremely-early education programs. With a program as competitive as ours, we occasionally see parents trying to inflate the number of teeth their children have managed to grow.