“Ryan,” I say. “If you ever want to play with the girl dolls, we have them. In this house, you can play with whatever you want.” By Ann Wainwright
How exactly could I break this news to a kid who already went to bed every night scared of death to the point of tears? By Tanya Mozias Slavin
“No skinny pants” was a rule we could not and did not obey. Instead, we pulled our children out of the school. By Jennie Burke
Take a minute to shine the spotlight on your child and praise them for reporting the behavior. By Lori Orlinsky
I’d raise my family differently, not because of the mistakes I made—though I certainly made my share—but because time means so much more to me now. By Melissa T. Shultz
They arrived. One after the other. In snowstorms. On holidays. From foreign countries. In succession—as inevitable it seemed as midterms and finals. By David Joseph
I’d been craving more one-on-one time with my kids for so long and now, thanks to those pesky parasites, I had it. By Kate Lemery
Is there any better teacher of life for a kid on the spectrum than a brother or sister? By Marya Markovich
“You’re a different person,” my husband said. This was years ago now. Thank god he was right. By Samantha Shanley
There’s Cooper, she’s at least a full head shorter than every other child on stage. This causes both attention and confusion. By Carina McLaughlin
I wonder now why it came as such a shock to me that friends would get married, that wild nights out would become sleepless ones at home with a baby. By Claire Lynch
We had a ritual that I honored until she outgrew the need for it. It occurs to me now that I needed it just as much as she did. By Tracy Tambosso
My parents grew up in the shadow of the Holocaust. Neither one of them knew how to tell me what had happened, so instead they said nothing. By Elissa Jacobs
I worry with the other moms about whether we’re good at it. Raising another person. By Marni Berger
So much of who we are has to do with how we think about our own parents and our own childhood.
I hesitated because I am a product of my society, just like everyone else. By Fiona Leary Boucher
We asked, you answered. In three words.
Kisses really mean love. When we kiss you goodnight, we told her, it leaves your cheek and travels straight into your heart. By Rosanne Ullman
As parents sometimes it’s a struggle to carve out even a few minutes to breathe. By Steph Auteri
So many parents speak of this transition period with promise and enthusiasm. But I loved nothing more than my kids walking through the door every day at 2:35pm. By Randi Olin
Every day she’d come home and say, “today my friends called me peanut, and it makes me sad.” By Lori Orlinksy
Our daughter asked good questions—what about the other baby? Were we sad? Why did it happen? By Cynthia Nuara
We can try to compare miseries, heartaches, injustices but, in the end, it becomes impossible. By Diana Kupershmit
Stephanie Land’s daughter learned to walk in a homeless shelter. In her debut memoir, she tells the story of how they survived.
KJ Dell’Antonia, Jill Smokler, Jordan Shapiro, Janelle Hanchett, and Jessica Lahey weigh in on how much is too much when it comes to writing about our children.