Never Wish Happiness for Your Children
By Adrienne Jones
“The trouble with that kind of thinking is, a child is a person, not a soufflé, and ultimately we come to the place where we can’t control everything. Or anything. Our children are themselves.”
By Jennifer Palmer
She was mine, this sweet baby girl, but she belonged to others, too.
By Robin Schoenthaler
Then along came adolescence, and my side-by-side parenting began to wane. I noticed it first at the mall, trailing behind the kids like a geisha. And every day it happens more: I find myself hanging back or stepping backwards, turning to move behind them, letting them go forward, out in front. I’m becoming a parent who pivots, scrambling to get out of the way.
The Richest Person in the World
By Adrienne Jones
Well, maybe he’s the second richest person in the world and I’m the richest, because I get to be his mom.
Open and Closed
By Catherine Newman
When they’re little, and you’re scraping them off of your leg at a party so you can refill your wine glass and metabolically transform four or five pounds of cheese into the milk that’s soaking through the front of your dress, you can’t wait for the kids to become separate from you. Thanks to your mind, as open as a flower-dotted meadow, you know that you will rise to any occasion of individuality.
Because I Will Always Do It Again
By Jon Sponaas
“Though I can’t, in a general way, believe much of anything, I especially couldn’t believe that you were IN your mom’s tummy, floating around in that complicated liquid…”
The Days Are Long/The Years Are Short
By Lauren Apfel and Lisa Heffernan
With my nest soon completely empty, I face the day that has loomed before me from the moment I became a mother. I am facing three distinct losses, that of their childhood selves, of my identity as their mother and, most painfully, of the daily intimacy that was our life together.
By Cheryl Strayed
There aren’t words to adequately describe the love I felt for my son. It was, by far, the most shocking thing that has ever happened to me. To love this way. To become, in an instant, a baby person.
This is Adolescence: 16
By Marcelle Soviero
Sixteen is full of paper thin promise, delicate due to the decisions I can’t make for her anymore, decisions that will determine what happens next.
How to Smoke Salmon
By Ann Hood
The sadness that comes from your first child leaving home is, of course, not the saddest thing of all. But the ache, the sense that something is missing, the way you keep looking up, expecting him to burst through the door in his size 13 shoes, it is real.
On Shame and Parenting
By Adrienne Jones
I did for them everything I believed a good mother would do for her children and clenched my teeth and prayed it was enough, or right, or that at the very least they would be OK in spite of the depth of my brokenness.
I’m Not Sorry for Yelling
By Jennifer Berney
Now that I’m a parent, I want my kids to know anger as a normal part of daily life.
Family Motto: More Love is More Love
By Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser
While it’s really hard to explain adoption to a five-year-old—and at times, I fear what the conversations will be with a ten- or fifteen-year-old—the notion that guides me is this: more love is more love.
She loves Me She Loves Me Not
By Karen Dempsey
Liddy would cup my cheeks and pull my face to hers as if she were breathing me in. “Oh, my mommy,” she’d whisper. “I love that you be my mommy.”
By Jamie Johnson
It’s because Kip isn’t a face, or a name, or a gender. Kip is a person. And it’s Kip, not the “he” or “she” that I love to death. His soul is still the same.
I Love you The Same But Different
By Rachel Pieh Jones
I love all my children the same. But I don’t love all my children the same. I love them all the same amount. Endlessly, to the moon and back, from Djibouti to Minnesota and back, forever and no matter what. But I don’t love them all in the same way. I don’t know why this realization surprised me. I mean, of course I don’t love them all in the same way. They are unique individuals and I have a unique, individual relationship with each one.
Bury My Son Before I Die
By Joanne De Simone
It goes against everything we believe about motherhood, but I’d rather bury my child than leave him behind.
By Tracy Mayor
Beyond that, in the spirit of planning for the worst while hoping for the best, I guess the most moral thing I can do right now as a parent is to raise my kids to be in some way part of a solution. Not just recyclers or composters or occasional car-campers, but innovators, problem-solvers, team players, good citizens of the world. Non-assholes.
MAMA: Mothers Against More Activities
By Francie Arenson Dickman
I’m not sure when doing nothing after school fell out of favor. As a kid, I was a pro at nothing. We all were.
Till Death Did They Part
By Molly Krause
When my dad came back after two decades of divorce, I wondered if my mom had somehow been waiting for him.