I’ve had a heavy heart the last few days. I’m really, really missing my baby. You see, somehow my baby has turned into a kid. I’m sure it was a gradual change, but it’s hit me very suddenly. It feels like I put him to bed one night as a chubby, babbling toddler, and he woke up the next morning
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Parenting a young child is very much about “firsts.” First smiles, first laughs, first steps, first words, first day of school—all wonderful and important moments in your little one’s life. I love those big milestones as much as anyone. Hey, take one glance at my Instagram and you’ll see that I document the hell out of them. But watching our
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Last month was kind of weird for our family. Work schedules, after school activities, evening commitments, and multiple bouts of a stomach “situation” left my husband, our son, and me like three ships passing in the night—always two here and one there, just with varying iterations. Within that window of time, I wasn’t home or available as often as I
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It felt so strange to hold him—to see this person who’d been inside of my body for almost 10 months wrapped up all burrito-like in the crook of my arm. “How is it possible for someone to look tiny and enormous at the same time?” I thought. “I love this person, but I don’t know anything about him.” As I’ve
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If motherhood has taught me anything it’s to not assume. Ever. That old adage of what happens when you assume became an old adage for a reason: it’s true. For whatever reason, when mothers (myself very much included) spot other mothers out “in the wild”, we tend to give each other a once over. Whether that assessing gaze comes from
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I’m currently working through what (I hope) are the final days of a nasty case of bronchitis. I spent five of the last seven days with a seal-like cough, a dull headache, and a fever hovering right around 102, Tylenol be damned. Save a case of the flu and a brief but memorable visit from the Norovirus last year, this
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I became a mostly stay-at-home mother* a few months after our son’s second birthday. Around that same time, my husband’s work hours went a little kooky, often requiring me to solo-parent** our toddler from breakfast to bedtime several days in a row. I went from spending my days in a quiet office with considerate companions who let me go to
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I will never forget my son’s first Thanksgiving—not because it was his first holiday, and not because it was the first time most of my extended family met him. It was because I closed out that particular Turkey Day with a 103-degree fever that almost landed me in the emergency room. I spent the next two days in bed with
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When my husband and I first began talking about starting a family—both during the abstract musings of our first years of marriage and later on as the ifs morphed into whens—we always said we’d have two kids. He’s an only child, and I’m the youngest of three, and we each were leaning towards replicating the situation in which we grew up,
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Life is tricky sometimes, and I feel like its even trickier when you’re a mom. Most days it’s like I’m running at a million miles an hour, thinking about everything and everyone other than myself. But sometimes things stop us in our tracks and remind us that we need to be a priority, too. Last February, I received my first
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