I feel a little bit robbed.
I apparently have an abnormality, which I was not made aware of until recently. I possess something so large, I was told to hide my monstrosity, before anyone of importance could see it. Why wasn’t I alerted to this previously? I have lived day in and day out for years without even thinking about it, but apparently it is so severe, it has interfered with my work. And now that it has been pointed out to me, my obsession over it is repeatedly hitting me head on.
Maybe I should consider it the opposite of an obstacle, maybe an endowment … it’s said that bigger is better. Right? What I feel like is the better part of a fool, one who so unknowingly and prominently has been displaying this freak of nature, like it was a natural occurrence.
My ignorance of this anomaly I have, has been taken from me and I want it back.
So, if you catch me staring at your forehead, forgive me, I’m not judging you, I’m judging me.
As moms, there’s a certain time when it just doesn’t matter where our beliefs lie on the political spectrum. That time is when our children’s lives are at stake. If our kids are threatened or endangered, we go full Mama Bear, because our job—a job that we take very, very seriously and are very, very good at, by the way—is to keep our babies safe.
The American Health Care Act was recently passed by the House and is now headed to the Senate. If passed, it would mean huge changes to how our families’ health is cared for. No one would be exempt from those changes, and those of us with preexisting conditions are feeling especially adrift. A friend of ours is so horrified by what the changes would mean to her 3-year-old daughter’s future, she was moved to write this letter—and, through our tears, we are privileged to share it.
I was extremely disappointed to hear the news that U.S. House of Representatives has passed…
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When you become a parent, you learn very quickly, every moment becomes a teaching moment.
Today, when I picked my second grader up from school (really, I’m hoping most teaching moments are happening there), I received a hug and kiss, and we walked hand in hand together.
Then he asked, “You know who my favorite Greek god is?” Intrigued, I looked at his little face looking up at me.
“Dionysus, the god of wine, pleasure and theater.” Now impressed, I nodded and waited for him to continue.
“I can ask him for help on Mother’s Day.”
And that’s how you put all your teaching moments together!