Here at LoveMom, we bring you the love. Our weekly Baby Bytes bring you everything else. Here are this week's 7 must-click mom links.
I know that as a mom, I have had a hard time accepting my mom body. There are days and times when I look in the mirror and say, "Damn girl, you are lookin' HAWT!" and there are still other days when I look in the mirror and think, "what in the world happened to my body?"
My wife has encouraged me from the very beginning to be as involved with our babies as she is—time off work, babywearing, co-sleeping and the like. But we've still had our rocky baby moments, and most of them have revolved around gatekeeping.
My husband and I, and our two sons, ages 12 and 16, eat dinner together every night. As a family. At the table. TV, computers and texting not allowed. We talk, argue, laugh, and plan trivial and important stuff. We look one another directly in the eye and speak out loud, often in full sentences. When you sit across the table from your spouse every single night, and you ask about one another's day, and sometimes even put your hand in his, locking eyes and silently smiling over something your kid just said, that's a powerful message. We eat, there's love and, when Aunt Cathy visits, we even pray.
Here at LoveMom, we bring you the love. Our weekly Baby Bytes bring you everything else. Here are this week's 4 must-click mom links.
In these days when everything is rushed and money is tight and date night is a pipe dream because we don't have the time or the money, a little note written with a broken crayon by the microwave light at midnight does me just fine.
I didn't daydream about weddings or marriage when I was growing up. Instead, I looked at my mother and thought: That's what I want to do. I want to be a mom. Now that I'm married, I wonder, will he really be a good father? And by the way, am I gonna suck, too?
Here at LoveMom, we bring you the love. Our weekly Baby Bytes bring you everything else. Here are this week's 5 must-click mom links.
We try to keep our life simple in the city. We don't have a car. We only work part-time. And we stretch out that generous Swedish parental leave. Yet still, modern life is modern life. We have jobs, a toddler to get to daycare and a baby to feed. We have laundry to do, dinner to cook and a tiny apartment that never stays clean. We do fine with this, but my wife and I have different parenting styles. The kids have their needs. The volume gets a little high. We feel too busy, too connected, too distracted.
When my preschooler was jokingly asked if he was married, he shouted, "No, I’m happy." Which got me thinking: I've been married for 22 years and, overall, I'm pretty happy. Is that the same as being "happily married"?