And Why Your Self-Image Matters in Motherhood Almost all women have experienced some level of struggle with their self-image. In fact, 69-84% of women in the US exhibit body dissatisfaction. And it’s easy to understand why women may struggle with self-esteem when we live in a world of photo-shopped bodies and air-brushed faces. The line between a slight filter
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It started when my daughter was three. She’s always been strong-willed and had a very distinct sense of style. Quickly we realized we could give her choices in what she wore to preschool each day. At first, we’d let her choose between two different outfits. Now, she has free reign over her entire closet in the mornings before kindergarten. Does
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1- Running teaches me perseverance You know the phrase, “Never quit on a bad day”? In running, I always tell myself to never stop on an uphill. Running has taught me to work through the tough moments, to not quit when things get hard. That lesson translates into parenthood pretty easily. In the moments when I want to snap, when
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Almost five years ago, I was standing in your shoes. I remember the morning so clearly–despite five years worth of full-time teaching, momming, a pandemic, and having another baby– that drop-off moment is crystal clear amidst the postpartum haze that seems to make most of my memories fuzzy. The sun hadn’t even fully risen yet. My husband and I drove
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Last Thursday I boarded a plane headed for Atlanta where two of my college friends picked me up so we could make the drive to Nashville. There we met up with two more college friends and spent five days eating, drinking, talking, eating some more, and not tending to the needs of small people.1 It was great. It really was.
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We’ve had kind of a rough summer so far. I’ve always said three-and-a-half is the hardest age. Magda Pecsenye of the blog Ask Moxie put it best, in my opinion: I say often that age 3.5 is the nadir of humanity, and I’m not actually joking. This age is demoralizing and confusing to the parent, because the child just can’t
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Day 1 So this little nugget arrived in the wee hours of the morning. I try not to call things “the best” because I feel like it minimizes old memories and sets you up to never surpass new ones. But I’m totally fine calling last night the best Saturday night of my life. Honestly. It was perfect and simple. I
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I remember the moment a few years ago, as one of my daughters was going through a health crisis, when I felt like I was falling apart. Harsh words coursed repetitively through my head… I am not cut out to be a mother! I am not cut out for this job! As I heard myself screaming this, I had a
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When I was very young, I heard that when workers finished painting the Golden Gate Bridge it was time to begin painting it again–that it was a never-ending task. That fact boggled my mind. I remember having a hard time wrapping my brain around the idea that there was no actual completion of the job; it went on forever. And
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“Why is that flag only halfway up?” I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw my seven-year-old son tapping on the glass and pointing at a flag pole outside the retirement community near our house. “That’s called ‘half-staff,’” I said. “They do that when something sad has happened.” He stayed quiet for a few beats, leaving me thinking that maybe
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