Maybe one day I’ll master the firm and long-lasting “no”, but until then…
I contemplated the busyness and the hours I’ve lost worrying about whether or not I’m “doing it right” or “doing it well enough”.
But I just didn’t want to be a hockey mom. Days spent in cold, slightly smelly rinks isn’t my idea of a great weekend.
I stood staring at him. What would I change? Would I go back in time and finish that degree? Would I get rid of the extra skin and the stretch marks on my stomach, the ones I often hide?
So much of parenting is spent intently watching our children as they scream “Watch this, Mom!” before they do whatever thing it is they needed us to watch.