I decided to stop asking Austin about his plan. I decided to stop suggesting pathways and careers to him, as if I were a marketing director of adulthood. By Ann marie Houghtailing
motherhood
Perhaps by allowing my daughter to experiment with her appearance and create her own reality, I can put the power back in her hands. By Erin Ott
In a quiet, distant voice I tell my husband that I want to die. Not exactly dead, I clarify, but not this. By Laura G. Owens
We are forever snarled in each other’s hair, my daughter and I, invested in the consistency of the people we know best and need most. By Leslie Kendall Dye
Here I am at the sink again. Here I am signing the kids up for soccer again. Here I am preparing for the holidays again. Wash, rinse, repeat. By Ilyse Dobrow DiMarco
Perhaps the fish were feeble replacements for all that we had lost, but they were also hopeful things. By Samantha Shanley
I’ve never used expressions like potty, criss-cross applesauce, boo-boo and its sad cousin owie. They make me feel like an imposter. By Rosemary Harp
It’ll only occur to me months later, in the flurry of taking you to college, that this was the quiet part before the big crescendo. By Jennifer Niesslein
My plate is full, blessedly so. So why can’t I stop thinking about having another baby? By Daisy Alpert Florin
Looking for the perfect parenting gift, book club recommendation or holiday read? Look no further. By Lauren Apfel