My daughter is one. We’re at a grocery store. She’s strapped to me in a Bjorn baby carrier, kicking her feet, babbling away, smiling at strangers. A woman walks by. “Enjoy the moment,” she says. “They grow up fast.”
I’m thinking about my shopping list, the dinner I have to make, and whether we’ll be home before my daughter gets hungry or needs changing. I smile and keep walking.
Then she’s two. We’re at a music class. A dozen moms sit in a circle on the floor. The kids are orbiting one another in the center, scooping up bells and…
My daughter used to be an artist. She would spend hours in the TV room, not watching TV, but on the floor surrounded by scraps of paper, beads and string, making collages and jewelry, or copying cartoon characters into notebooks.
She loved to sew. With a needle and thread, she would make dresses and hats and shoes for her dolls. Before I got around to buying her fabric, she used construction paper. My brother gave her a small wooden artist manikin one Christmas. She made clothes for that too.
She wasn’t allowed TV on school days, but we were lax…
I’m listening to music and bagging up the past: my daughter’s old clothes and toys and other stuff. I get stuck on a unicorn pencil case. I know at 12 she’s no longer into unicorns, but it’s in good condition and you never know. Then “Our House” by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young comes on and I burst into tears.
Is there anything sadder than the passing of time?
I’ve been crazy nostalgic lately. Actually it’s worse than that. …
A lot of people wonder how Western parents raise such stereotypically soft, entitled kids. Well I can tell you because I’m doing it.
It seems like the middle of the night but it’s actually morning when we hear a small voice saying: “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,” etc. My husband and I pretend to sleep, each breathing deeper than usual until one of us gives in.
My husband drags himself out of bed. I stir slightly, but then roll over and close my eyes for as long as I can get away with it. …
I’m walking the dog with a friend. She says she and her husband are depressed. They haven’t been anywhere in months. They just cancelled a summer holiday abroad. It’s too complicated as restrictions tighten again in Europe following a spike in the coronavirus India variant.
Given they’re both self-employed, with little work, the trip was hard to justify. But she says they would have gone anyway. They need a break that badly.
“We just want to get out of the house. We’ve been cooped up so long,” she says. “I’m not myself anymore. I’ve stopped wearing makeup or even caring…
For months I’ve been putting off posting content on News Break. The pages of this content platform are plastered with celebrities, sex, violence, sex and violence involving celebrities, political scandal stories. My bittersweet parenting pieces aren’t exactly News Break’s bread and butter.
But ever since my first/only viral story, I’ve made less and less money each month on Medium. And so I decided to give it a go. I had been approved months earlier, probably because of that first viral story. And thank you Christina M. Ward for your News Break advice!
I picked a handful of my Medium stories…
Who knew it was a thing? Puppy playdates with your dog’s litter.
I’m at the park with our dog Leo. He races off to join four other puppies, all about the same size, with similar curly coats but in different colors. They’re running around under two park benches upon which sit five adults.
I joke that my dog loves a good puppy party. I say how similar the dogs look.
“They’re from the same litter,” says the owner of the cute black cavachon.
“Is this a thing?” I ask. “People getting their dogs together with their brothers and sisters?”
The older my daughter gets, the more I realize it’s what I don’t say that’s most effective.
It’s noon on Saturday. My daughter wants me to drive her 40 minutes to go shopping with friends, and then return a few hours later to pick her up. I’ve already spent two hours this morning carting her back and forth to her cricket match at school. This seemingly small request would add another two hours and forty minutes of driving to my Saturday.
“Just hear me out,” she says, sensing a negative reply. “My friends are meeting at 2pm in Guildford. You…
“Empty Lunchbox Syndrome” is like “Empty Nest Syndrome” only the kids are still home and want nothing to do with you. For me it started when my daughter turned 12.
Suddenly we were in a pathetic limbo, clinging to what was, while knowing it could never be that way again. Everywhere are painful reminders of the life we led until recently. Board games, the badminton set, skipping ropes, an old princess lunchbox, sitting empty and unloved on a shelf, i.e., the lunchbox metaphor.
I know I should give these things away, but that’s like admitting that part of our life…
If you’re not Dwayne Johnson or Kylie Jenner, can you really earn a living on Instagram? Can you afford to quit your day job and work from home?
Becky Wilson, a British interior designer and new mom, thinks the answer is “maybe”.
At 38, and heavily pregnant, she was commuting each day from Maidenhead to Notting Hill in London to do residential and commercial design. But after her daughter, River, was born, she’d had enough.
She loved her job — a dream job really, as she was designing the interior of a hotel in Devon — but the stress and…
Writer, editor, parent. Former staffer at Quartz, WSJ and Inc. magazine.