At no point in my 34 years of life had I ever been so...I want to say humbled, but the more accurate word here is humiliated.
In light of the countless high-profile assault charges recently meted I challenge us, individually, collectively, indivisibly, to say no. To scream no.
It's so many of us who have moved our own hardier selves right down to the bottom of the list of things that need to be cared for.
What does it matter that my nightly glass of wine was turning into two or three, or two light beers were becoming five? It matters quite a bit, actually.
When people ask me what motivates me in life, the answer is always him. He’s my driving force, the reason I forge on.
As a mother who sometimes screams, who is unsure of herself, I’m still practicing how to accept my own imperfections. My own failings.
What am I really sorry for? I’m sorry for the times I have apologized for things they cannot help. Like being an energetic, wiggly kid.
Of course, there are reams written about the ubiquitous syndrome of “mom guilt.” But what about dads? Are they immune?
If you’re facing a trip away from your infant that you don’t feel good about, think about whether you might be able to bring her along.