In a few short months, my daughter will be starting kindergarten.

I don’t know if I’m ready for this. Aside from the fact that she will be coming home with disgusting kid-germs every day and will most likely be sick ALL THE TIME, I’m just a tad worried about the social aspect.

I know she basically has the rest of her life to figure out the social game…I mean, that’s what I told myself when I didn’t send her to preschool. But when I see her at the park and some little girl is being a brat to her, it kind of breaks my heart.

So, this little girl was really shy. She was at the park with her mother, who was trying to get her to talk to my daughter since they appeared to be the same age, but this little girl just couldn’t muster up the nerve to do it (I’m going to call her “LG” for short). However, it was clear she wanted to play with my girl. So I went over there and tried to get my daughter to play with her, but being an only child and not having too many friends, she tends to want to talk to adults more. But eventually she started playing with LG. They had a really nice time until a friend of LG’s showed up.

LG proceeded to tell my daughter that she didn’t want to play with her anymore because her friend was there. Okay, I get it- LG’s friend showed up and she’d rather play with her. Fine. They’re the same age, too. Fine. But my heart still broke for my daughter. She’s usually the type of girl who, when rejected, just keeps on playing with that kid until the kid FINALLY breaks down and plays with her. My kid is, well…persistent.

This time, however, she just crumbled. She came over to me and said, “LG and I were having so much fun. But then her friend came and she doesn’t want to play with me anymore.”

What I really wanted to do was storm over there and yell at LG, “OH! I SEE. (And yes, “all caps” is necessary here.) WHEN YOU WANTED A FRIEND TO PLAY WITH BECAUSE YOU HAD NO ONE, MY DAUGHTER PLAYED WITH YOU. BUT NOW THAT YOUR DUMB FRIEND IS HERE, MY DAUGHTER’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH?!” And then I would turn to the mom and shriek, “I WENT OUT OF MY WAY TO GET MY DAUGHTER TO PLAY WITH YOURS AND YOU WON’T EVEN ASK YOUR DAUGHTER TO INCLUDE MINE NOW THAT THE SOCIAL SITUATION IS SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT?! OR AT LEAST TELL HER THAT SHE’S BEING EXTREMELY RUDE?!”

But I didn’t.

Instead, I told my daughter to go back over and simply ask the girls if she could join their game. Apparently, they said no, because she returned with the Saddest Face Ever.

It took a lot of restraint not to lose it, but I was very proud of myself. We had a conversation about respecting other people’s decisions, even if the outcome is not something we want to hear, and that when LG did that to her, it made her feel bad, so now she knows how bad it makes people feel to not be included. I used the opportunity to teach her to be cognizant of that and to be sensitive while dealing with others.

I hated having this conversation with her because I really wanted to tell her, “Go over there and tell LG that you don’t want to play with her stupid, ugly face anyway.” I am a very petty adult.

The worst part about this was that I didn’t really succeed in making her feel better at all. I was just talking at her and she was still feeling bad. Of course, within an hour or so, she got over it.

But I did not.

And I know there’s nothing I can do about these things. I can’t always be there and she needs to know how to handle these situations. Unfortunately, I don’t really know what to say or how to make things better. Maybe I can’t make things better for her…but at least I hope I can teach her to be a decent human being, one who is kind to others, considerate and thoughtful.

I just wish there were more moms out there who cared whether their kids were jerks.

My youngest son is a space enthusiast. His bedroom is decorated with posters of the planets and the space shuttle. There are those glow-in-the-dark stars plastered all over his ceiling, and mounted directly above his bed is a working replica of the solar system.

In February 2008, when he was twelve-years-old, he found out there was going to be a lunar eclipse visible in our area. He was so excited about it that he posted a note on the main entrance to our house so we wouldn’t forget. He eagerly waited for the day to come, and was extremely upset when that day finally arrived and it was cloudy and rainy. Thankfully, it cleared up that evening just in time to watch the eclipse. He laid out in the yard for over an hour with his cousin, and documented the progress of the eclipse with our video camera. He was so excited that it was all he could talk about when I put him to bed that night. We watched the video the next day, and he continued to talk about it for two weeks. I can’t even count how many times he thanked me for letting him stay up past his bed time on a school night to watch it.

In stark contrast, my oldest son, who was fifteen at the time, walked in the back door just after I put my youngest son to bed. He had been talking to his girlfriend on the phone while he watched the eclipse from the back yard.

When he walked in he asked me, “Was that it?”

I asked, “What do you mean?”

He said, “The eclipse. Is that all there is to it?”

I said, “Yeah… that’s all there is.”

He responded with, “That was lame,” and headed to his bedroom.

Funny, isn’t it, how children from the same parents can be so different?

Last 5 posts by Tom Hames

• A Parent's View of Cutting - March 15th, 2011
• The Battle of Olustee: A Tale of the United States Civil War, Part IV - March 5th, 2010
• The Battle of Olustee: A Tale of the United States Civil War, Part III - September 12th, 2009
• A Lesson From the Garden - August 17th, 2009
• The Battle of Olustee: A Tale of the United States Civil War, Part II - April 23rd, 2009

Did you know that there are about 14 million single parents here in the U.S. today? They are responsible for raising 21.6 million of our nation’s children. (Based on 2005 census statistics, released in 2007)

And within the last few years, I became part of that growing single parent population.

After my divorce was final, though I didn’t set out to surround myself by other single parents, somehow it just happened. Two of my best friends are single moms, and I even know my share of single dads that are being added to the mix. When we grab coffee or the occasional cocktail, invariably, our conversation turns to our children and the challenges of raising them alone, with only the first, third and fifth weekends to reclaim our own individual identities.

Of course, not everyone has the typical divorce or the standard visitation schedule. Unlike me, some of my friends actually get along with their exes. They take vacations together with their children, and split parenting up in such an agreeable manner, that you wonder why they even divorced. (Obviously the culture of “single parenting” is a varied and complicated one).  I, on the other hand, can’t even have a five-minute conversation with my ex-husband without needing mood-enhancing medication. (Kidding… kinda).

But, the challenges of single parenting go beyond just splitting visitation and obtaining effective communication with a former spouses. They encompass balancing full-time employment while still managing to get the laundry done, (mine usually gets clean, but doesn’t always make it into drawers or closets), cooking healthy meals (chicken nuggets have protein ─ that’s healthy right?), and finding time to actually interact with our children in between all the household chores and outside work. (In my little single-parent family, we like to play the Wii together, even if I get motion sickness half the time). But, at the end of the day, when you tuck them into their beds (which reminds me that I really need to wash their sheets this weekend while they are at their dad’s)… most of us in the situation take a deep breath, and remember that our children are worth all the balancing acts.

But let’s talk about those “free” weekends. If you are a single parent like me, you are emotionally torn between anxiety and sadness over those weekends apart, and guilt over the relief you feel, because you really need that time away from your children. When else can you grocery shop without grubby little hands throwing random junk into the cart? Those weekends are the only time I have to get the rare manicure or haircut, go out for lunch with adults and not have to remind someone about their table manners. (Although, when my kids are not around, I sometimes find myself actually reminding my adult friends to use their table manners. Yep – turning that “mom brain” off is harder than one might think. It usually takes me at least 2 glasses of wine.) And I will confess the hard fact is that I sometimes only make it through the week with the kids because I know my “free” weekend is coming up.

And as one gets used to one’s single parent state, eventually you feel the urge to begin dating again.  Maybe the stress of the divorce has allowed you to lose that 30 lbs of pregnancy fat you’ve still been carrying for the past five years. You begin to feel better about yourself, not only because you’ve lost that extra weight, but also because you’re losing the emotional baggage that you carried around with you during your marriage, a load you unknowingly starting dumping once that divorce decree was signed. You begin to have hope again, that you can reinvent yourself and your life, and that maybe the perfect person is out there somewhere, waiting for you.

Dating can be a confusing and exciting time in anyone’s life, but for the single parent, it is rife with second-guessing, self-depreciation, guilt, unrequited desire and personal agony. Sounds fun huh? Well, it can be, seriously. But it can also be complete misery.

I’ve had single parent friends who have traversed the myriad of mediums for modern dating, everything from Match.com and eHarmony, health club trysts, even stalking the health food aisle at the “Whole Earth” grocery store, to the more wholesome attending church functions aimed at matching up single adults.

For me, before I had my kids, back when I was single and in my twenties, I’d just grab a girlfriend, and we’d head to a local watering hole to check out all the eligible bachelors. It was fun. But, by the time I was in my thirties and divorced, I had no single girlfriends… and even if I had, I discovered that going to a bar and talking it up with strangers over drinks just made me feel depressed and old. So, one of the first challenges I faced after I divorce and was ready to start dating again, was actually meeting men worthy of dating. My entire social network was comprised of other married couples who use to attend dinner parties with my ex and me. Now I was the stereotypical “third wheel.” Ugh. Not fun.

One good friend did the whole on-line dating thing. It was great for her, because when her child wasn’t around, she really didn’t feel like cooking. So, she’d just arrange for a date, usually with a successful businessman, dress up, and head to a fancy restaurant for a free meal and some fun conversation. She rarely went out with anyone on a second date, because that’s when the pressure was put on for more, and that’s not what she wanted. She wanted no more than good food and good company. This worked for her. Occasionally her fabulousness would draw someone in, but once she made it clear that her daughter came first and always would, it seemed that the male ego repeatedly went screaming out of that restaurant, as though she announced she had a communicable disease, not just an adorable child at home. But she had the self-confidence to persevere, going into each potential relationship making clear what her priorities and expectations were. She weeded out the guys that weren’t in it for the same things she was, and it worked for her.

But this was a woman who knew from the get-go what she wanted, and where her priorities were. Not all of us are that certain or steadfast in our goals.

Another woman I know with two teenage sons, has basically been single since the youngest was a baby. Now that her children are nearly out of the house, she finds herself with an identity again, outside of “business woman” and “working mom.” She’d chosen a long ago to focus her time and energy on her career and her boys, and not let dating be a priority. Now that she is entering a new phase in her life, one that allows her to enjoy the possibility of finding love a second time, she feels as though she’s in training wheels again. How does one recognize Mr. Right, amidst of the overabundance of Mr. Right-Nows, especially when you’ve been out of the practice of dating for so long?

After being at this awhile, I’ve come up with some ground rules for single parents who are dating again that have worked for me:

1. Realize that there is much at stake when you date as a single parent. Think how a broken ego or heart is going to affect your parenting. Kids are very intuitive. So be smart about dating to protect the emotional security of not only yourself, but your children too.

2. Know what you want and what you are willing to give. Always make your children your number one priority. There are going to be those guys out there who will say, “Just get a sitter, come out with me for drinks on Wednesday.” Before you do, weight what you’re giving up. Time with your children. Money for the sitter. Is he worth it? If you think not, don’t compromise yourself or your ideals, just to have a man in your life, any man.

3. If you do meet someone with potential, decide what your plan will be in a way that considers your children’s needs responsibly. For example, how long will you have to date before he can (a) sleep over, (b) meet your children, (c) meet your family, (d) move in?  Think about these things now before you start dating anyone, so you aren’t caught off guard when the questions comes up.  And once you make those decisions, stick to your convictions about them. You know what is best for your family and when someone should be allowed into that inner sanctum. Don’t compromise that for anyone.

4. In the newness of your romantic relationship, don’t let your children get lost. It’s easy to take their love and presence for granted, and want to be a little selfish for once. Lord knows you’ve given up a lot for them throughout their lives. There should be time for you to focus on yourself and your happiness, but don’t forget that this can be a confusing and scary time for them too. Make sure they know that THEY are your first priority. Don’t break plans with them to go on a date. Try and limit your conversations with that significant other until after they are in bed, or while they’re doing something else, so they don’t feel like they have to compete for your attention. When it’s time for them to meet the special guy, sit them down and prepare them for it. Explain how special this person is, but remind them that you love them more than anything, and they will always come first.

5. Don’t confide in them about your relationship. Remember that they are your children, not your friends, and their job is to have fun, not to worry about mommy.

6. Despite all of the above to first consider, do have fun. Don’t rush into something deep and serious straight away. Pick someone to hang out with who shares your interests and basic values. Enjoy the conversation, do new things, be open to this new experience, but don’t jump into anything too quickly.

7. Be Careful and Trust your Instincts. Do your research. It may seem ultra paranoid to run a background check on someone you are dating, but do it anyway. That’s what Google is for. Look up your date’s address, and see who else lives there. Look them up on their social networking sites, like MySpace or Facebook. He could be married, he could be a registered sex offender, he could just be some unemployed loser looking for a meal ticket. I am not saying to be distrustful, just be aware. Be aware of the way they present themselves online and consider if it’s in line with what you want. The worst thing is to fall in love with someone only to discover they are not who they presented themselves to be. Remember ─ statistically, married men do not leave their wives for their mistresses. And even if they do─ again, statistically ─ it means they will probably cheat on you as well. It’s best that you don’t even find yourself on that path. Before you invest your heart into it, protect it and as a result, your children.

8. Establish your intimacy rules. Will you let your new paramour spend the night? Hold hands or kiss in front of your kids? These are the questions you need to ask yourself when you find someone that you want to get serious with. It should be clear to most of us that inviting someone to stay over is not something you’d want your children to be party to with someone you’re only casually dating. Nothing makes children feel more insecure than having a single parent with a revolving bedroom door. So think about those things first and make your rules firm before you find yourself compromising your own convictions in a moment of passion.

Believe me, handled well, if you find the right person to move forward with in a relationship, it can be fulfilling and exciting, for you and for your kids. Just know what you expect up front, communicate that to your potential partner, and reassure your children of your love for them at every possible moment.

Happy Dating!

Last 5 posts by Miranda Krebbs

• A Moment for Mom: A Valentine’s Story - February 1st, 2009
• A Fortunate Mistake - January 1st, 2009
• Blackberries, Big Wheels, and “Bleachy Mama” - September 1st, 2008
• Tighter ~ Coping with Depression, Part II - June 1st, 2008
• Beautiful Stolen Goods - June 1st, 2008

We are supposed to be a nation of tolerance. If you criticise someone for being gay, for being fat, for being black or being female you will (quite rightly) cop a severe tongue lashing for your lack of empathy. However, apparently it’s quite okay to criticise people for being thin.

The phrase ‘real women have curves’ springs to mind. A lot of people have been saying it in response to Jennifer Love Hewitt’s bikini photos. Initially it sounds great, after all – real women are allowed to have curves and still be real women.  Huzzah! What a noble idea! But the problem is it doesn’t say real women can have curves. It decrees that real women and curves are inextricably linked. Real women have curves. If you have no curves, sorry – no amount of menstruation, ovulation, lactation or possession of a vagina is going to make up for it and bring you back to Real Woman Status. Too bad.

I have a friend who is model thin and drop dead gorgeous. She is also just as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. She never judges anyone by their appearance, but sadly, rarely gets the same consideration in response.  Often other women will complain to her about feeling fat and then add a snarky “Not that you’d ever have that problem”.  Wow. Imagine if someone thin complained about being unable to gain weight (a condition that is more common than you might think) and turned to a fat woman and said the same thing. I doubt anyone would see that as acceptable, so why is it acceptable to be a bitch to someone just because they’re thin?

And if you have a skinny friend who is desperately trying to gain weight, please do not say “I wish I had that problem!”

There are millions of weight-loss plans, support groups and advice columns for people trying to lose weight. People are more than happy to support you in your quest for weight loss and offer their own advice and support. There is however a woeful lack of support or advice for people trying to gain weight in a healthy manner. It’s not a nice problem to have and there are many medical conditions linked to being underweight, so it would be more appropriate to show a little compassion.

And lastly, I want to have a whinge about the topic of guys who prefer skinny girls. More specifically the condemnation of guys who prefer skinny girls. Honestly, it’s like society sees it as a huge insult to curvy women everywhere if a guy has a preference for thin women. If a man admits he likes a petite lady, he is accused of being brainwashed by the media, of being shallow and of only seeing a woman as an arm ornament. For heaven’s sake, people – it’s just a personal preference! No one accuses guys of insulting white women if they prefer Latina girls. Or of insulting blondes if they have a preference for redheads. No one says that liking girls with pretty faces is only because of media manipulation. No one divides boob-men and leg-men along some kind of imaginary moral divide. And of course no one suggests that voicing a preference for curvy girls may hurt the feelings of their thinner companions. Which it may well do, but, let’s face it, society doesn’t care if skinny girls get their feelings hurt.

You know what, world? It’s okay to have personal preferences! If a woman likes skinny guys no-one bats an eyelid. If someone likes brunettes, good on ‘em. If you’re a bloke (or a chick) and you like women with a bit of meat on their bones, go for it. And if you like thin women, yay you! Thankfully, the world needs all types. Some people are attracted to curvy girls, which is great for us curvy girls, because they’re the ones we usually end up with. And some people like thin girls, which is great for them, because they’re just as deserving of love as anyone else.

So next time you look at a skinny girl and think “bitch,” or tell a guy who likes petite chicks that he is shallow, remember that no one should be judged just because of their weight. Skinny girls are real women too. They have real feelings. And those feelings get hurt when they’re treated badly, when their problems are dismissed, or when guys are told they shouldn’t find them attractive.

Last 5 posts by Charlotte Steggs

• Vegan French Toast, or How I Managed to Stay Hungry Three Saturday Mornings in A Row - June 1st, 2008

Photo "7 Months" by Miranda Krebbs

My mom was 7 months pregnant before she told anyone. At that point, even she had only known for two months, but everyone close to her found out when she turned on all the gas in her trailer, shut all the windows, and tried to slip easily into the next world.

After her roommate discovered her unconscious in the kitchen and had her rushed to the hospital, my mom spent the next three months under house arrest at her older sister, Pearl’s house. But it only it only took three months for her to fall in love….

…with me.

So, I guess I am lucky to be here, all things considered.

Don’t judge her too harshly. She was 25 and had been rejected by the man she loved. Her parents had died when she was 15, and she felt terribly alone in the world. She told me that very night she prayed for God to send someone who’d love her. She thought that person would a man. Instead, it was a seven-pound baby girl ─ her daughter, whom she thought would end her life, instead enhanced it.

From the day I was born, we were best friends, and that hasn’t changed much in all these years. Every time she felt pain, I knew it and was there to be her rock. And when I felt pain, it was more painful for her than for me. No matter what we went through- her, her heart attack, my pregnancies, her failing health, my divorce and much more, we’ve ‘had each other’s back’. Unconditionally supportive and loving, every single step of the way.

Oh, we’ve had our moments. There has been screaming and names called, there was even a time when I thought she’d lost her mind, and she thought I’d lost mine, but through it all we have a connection and love.

She’s my mommy. And I am so blessed to have her.

_________________________________________________

Last 5 posts by Miranda Krebbs

• Single Parent Dating - August 17th, 2009
• A Fortunate Mistake - January 1st, 2009
• Blackberries, Big Wheels, and “Bleachy Mama” - September 1st, 2008
• Tighter ~ Coping with Depression, Part II - June 1st, 2008
• Beautiful Stolen Goods - June 1st, 2008

Yesterday I did the shopping at the market and noticed a woman there trailing two kids round with her. Dressed in head-to-toe Nike, they whined their way around, putting whatever they felt like in the trolley, and screeching like banshees every time the mother dared to question anything they’d added. I think I spotted some apples in the trolley, but the rest was all pizza, crisps, chocolate, fizzy drinks and other crap. They’d have got more nutrition chewing on their own shoes than eating that weekly shop.

Then they arrived at the electronics department and found the computer games. The eldest, who might have been about 8, decided he wanted a computer game, but it was an ‘18.’ Mum objected on both price and age limit and this didn’t go down well. The resulting tantrum drew shoppers from around the building to witness the splendid and awe-inspiring wobbly that this child was chucking. He was on the floor, arms and legs going like pistons, screaming and throwing anything he could get his hands on. Eventually the mother gave in, the game was in the trolley and in an instant the child was back next to the trolley adding a bag of mini Kit-Kats like nothing had ever happened.

This made me think back to my childhood in the early 80s. When we were young, my mum supported us on one wage. My little brother and I used to go shopping with mum; she’d have a list of things in her head that she needed for the week, and that is what we’d be going home with, no more and no less. My brother and I would run round the aisles collecting what she wanted and putting it in the trolley. We didn’t have sugary things, in fact, we didn’t have anything with E numbers in it either, because my brother was allergic to one of the common ones; it sent him up the wall. If we’d have thrown a strop in a supermarket, not only would we not be getting what we wanted, we’d not be getting anything at all, probably not for the next ten years. I remember having a throw-myself-on- the-floor tantrum once at home, and my mum stepped over me and carried on doing what she was doing, ignoring me entirely. I never bothered doing it again. It seemed pointless.

We also didn’t have expensive toys when I was small. I remember playing with a farm set that my parents had bought for me a little at a time, and I loved it to bits. We also had hours of fun making plasticine out of flour, water and food colouring, and then creating things from it and baking them solid. My mum made me a toy cooker out of a biscuit tin and some coloured circles of card and got me a little set of pans so I could then make ‘dinner parties’.

And of course there was always mud to play with. My best friend in all the world at that time, (In fact, we’re still good friends) was Louise, who lived on my street. Her mum and mine became friends when they were both pregnant, and we all kind of lived in interchangable houses. Louise and I were always together at one house or another, and we loved playing with mud. There are some lovely photos of the pair of us coated in it. I used to have a t-shirt with a lion on it that squeaked when you pressed the logo, and Lou used to try and make the lion squeak by throwing mudballs at it. We had mud in pans, mud in bowls, mud in buckets, mud in hair, eyes and fingernails.

The thing that all our inexpensive toys and games had in common was that, although you could play with them on your own, they were miles better when played with someone else. So, that’s what we did. We were always out and about in the street, playing with friends, making a mess, our own fun. I’ve watched my friends’ children, and things have changed since I was small. They do play out, but not nearly so much as I did, and they really seem to want to do is play on the X Box or the Playstation. These games aren’t often designed for more than one person. So they sit in their bedrooms for hours on end, absorbing brightly-coloured moving images and loud, dramatic noises. Soon they become so saturated in action that nothing else seems interesting to them, because nothing else is fast-paced enough to equal that excitement. The games that we used to play together as children would bore these children rigid in about ten minutes.  And like the brats in the supermarket, some of today’s children have such appalling social skills, that you can’t help wondering if it isn’t because they aren’t going out and socialising. They can’t write a story in school, because they aren’t reading at home, they’re playing on computers. They have no idea how to utilise their imaginations, because scenes are set out clearly for them on a screen. I’m not saying all children are like this, because they aren’t, and I’m not saying computer games should be banned , because I’m sure they have a place.   But brats like those supermarket kids seem to be cropping up more and more. And I know that if I had kids, I’d be trying to steer them towards the more sociable pastimes. I also know that if I’d done what those children had done in a supermarket when I was a child, I’d have got the hiding of my life when I got home!

And what’s more, I’d have earned it.

Photo of Nat posing as a monster by Miranda Krebbs

Last 5 posts by Vicola England

• Wills and Kate Tat for Sale - December 17th, 2010
• Harmony or Hatred – What's Really Going on in Multicultural Britain? - July 1st, 2010
• The Stoning of Sister Mc Bride - June 30th, 2010
• A Letter to the (British) Department of Health - March 5th, 2010
• What Were They Thinking? - July 29th, 2009

When you become pregnant people have all sorts of advice and nice things to tell you, like, “Oh, your hair is going to look amazing!” And, “You’ll have such a beautiful glow!” And, “Don’t worry! Breastfeeding makes those pounds just melt off!”

Well…here’s a list of things that people don’t tell you about labor and birth:

1. That baby is gonna come out when that baby is good and ready and not a minute before. Don’t listen to all that ‘BS’ people tell you… (“Go for a nice, long walk!” “Have sex every day!”) It’s not going to work, trust me. And sex every day when you’ve gained 40 pounds all in your belly region is not fun. So don’t kill yourself walking and having sex, hoping to speed things up. Not unless you’re some kind of masochist who enjoys waddling for miles and then coming home to ‘do it doggy style’ with what feels like a giant iron weight strapped to your middle.

2. If breastfeeding is something you really want to try, then by all means, try it.  It is supposed to be better for you and your baby. But, if it’s not something you want to do, do not let the ‘Breastfeeding Nazis’ get to you. Also, if you are medically unable to breastfeed for whatever reason, don’t let them make you feel guilty or inadequate. While I did breastfeed, I would never judge a woman a poor mother for not wanting to breastfeed. It’s a lot harder than you’d think.  Cracked nipples are not for the faint of heart.

3. And related to the above, your boobs will never go back to the way they were before you got pregnant, no matter what those damn mothering message boards tell you. They’re all lies. This is the God’s honest truth: They will never be the same again. Ever.

4. I never had hemorrhoids until I gave birth. If I’d known about the hemorrhoids, I would’ve asked for a damn c-section. (And, since they were in there anyway, a tummy tuck and my tubes tied!) I think hemorrhoids are God’s way of punishing me for some sin I committed somewhere along the line, because they’re the worst. And even though it’s been more than two years since I had my daughter, every once in a while, I still get hemorrhoids. They’re probably here to stay until she heads off to college.

5. Also, when you push that baby out, your ‘ladyparts’ will swell. A lot. They will droop down on either side, too, like Fu Manchu’s moustache. And if my friend hadn’t warned me about this, I probably would’ve wanted to die when I saw myself down there. But unlike your boobs, that goes back to normal, thank God.

But I promise you that all this horror is worth it. All of it.

Unless you actually have a child, you probably won’t believe me, but all of these superficial changes that happen to your body mean nothing compared to when your child calls you “Mama” for the first time. Or when you see that first smile and hear that first laugh. And those disgusting, slobbery, delicious kisses are the highlight of my day. I’m a strong woman, but I was reduced to tears the first time my little girl said, “I love you, Mama, oh, so much.”

When my daughter laughs, I laugh out loud with her. I sing along with her when she sings in that little tone deaf voice of hers, and when she dances, I dance too. And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. Having my girl is the most wonderful, uplifting, experience of my life.

And pregnancy isn’t all bad, either. Your hair actually does look amazing! And everyone treats you like a queen. Seriously. If you’re lucky enough to be carrying the baby of a man who loves you, he’ll be so fiercely protective of you, it’s actually kind of cute. Also, there is something so beautiful and intimate about knowing that the child growing inside you belongs to the man you love.  Oh, and then people give you gifts and throw you parties. See? Pregnancy can be fun!

But most of all, having a child will expand your world. You will see things differently. You will become a better person because of your child. And you’ll want to be a better person simply because you’re a mother.

I know that Having a child brings out the best in me. And everything is a little brighter because of it. Seeing life through the eyes of my child is an amazing experience. I always believed that I could be completely happy by myself. Then I met my husband and I believed that everything was as perfect as it could get, with just the two of us. But when I had my daughter, I learned what true love really is.

I hope I can teach that lesson of love to my daughter, when she gets pregnant.

…That and about getting a good support bra and some Preparation-H.

When my children first walked into the house quickly and stealth-like, and then emerged from the craft room with two pairs of safety scissors, I should have paused to find out what was up. Alas, I was immersed in my baked ravioli recipe and only mildly considered investigating.

Ten minutes and one butchered rosebush later, I had a beautiful centerpiece for my table. (The neighbor who lost her roses still had a full bush left, thank goodness. I checked to be sure.)

After the initial lecture about taking other peoples flowers from their gardens, and then another lesson about trimming roses properly and leaving them some stem to drink water from… I floated my beautiful stolen blooms in some crystal bowls and got a bit teary-eyed at the fact that this was the first time since my divorce that anyone had brought me roses.

Photo of Mia by Grace Bon

We went to the zoo this morning. Mia, who’s not quite two, was much more interested in the animals this time around and when it came time to leave, she wasn’t so willing. But I told her we could stop by the park near the entrance of the zoo, where they have a few slides and some sand. When we got there, Mia was standing on the sand and a little boy tried to push her away. I didn’t say anything because his mom said, in a really sweet, high-pitched voice, the same tone of voice you’d ask a baby if they wanted a bottle, “No, no, Matty.”

That’s all she said. Didn’t apologize or anything… So, anyway, fine, I’m used to rude moms. I just let it go, since she said something, at least, and it’s not like Mia got hurt. But, then he tried to push her again. He puts his hand flat on her chest and pushed. It wasn’t hard.  But it was mean.

So I said, quite nicely actually, “No, we don’t hit people. It’s not nice.”

I felt like I should say something, because his mom didn’t say a damn word this time when he did it. I wasn’t really mad because Mia wasn’t hurt and he’s a toddler. Yes, he was rude, but I was more annoyed with his mom.And what do you think happened after I told little ‘Matty’ that we don’t hit people because it’s not nice? His grandma pipes up behind me, “It’s not nice to step on other people’s hands, either!”

Apparently, Mia had stepped on his hand while she was trying to climb up the slide. Well, if she did, it wasn’t very hard, because the kid wasn’t crying.

So, I turned around and looked at Stupid Grandma and said, “Well, I didn’t see her do it, but if she did do it, it was an accident.”

Look- if my daughter stepped on some kid’s hand accidentally, I’m sorry. I didn’t see it, but if I had, I would’ve apologized on her behalf, since she doesn’t quite understand the concept of ‘sorry’ yet.. But for that grandmother to pipe up behind me, after her demon grandchild pushed my daughter twice – I mean, come on! How dare she? What – I can’t say anything to her little angel? What – he’s so perfect he does nothing wrong?

TAKE ACCOUNTABILITY FOR YOUR CHILDREN, for the LOVE OF GOD. Your kid is JUST AS BRATTY AS MINE. Your kid is NOT any better than mine. I am fully aware that Mia does naughty things. Yes, I think she’s cute, and yes, I adore her more than anything!  But, if she does something wrong, I will not turn a blind eye to it and I wouldn’t make excuses for her.

(Okay…I will, but only when she’s hungry and tired and I know that a nap or a snack will fix her bad behavior.)

I can’t believe that the mom didn’t say anything and that the grandma said something so stupid. I honestly believe that part of our society’s problem is that we are all so self-centered. We believe the world revolves around us and our progeny, as well. As though  somehow, they’re more special because they’re our children. We don’t take the time to teach our children manners anymore. We don’t discipline them. We don’t teach them to apologize. We spoil the crap out of them.

My husband thinks that I’m too hard on Mia sometimes. But I think I could probably be a whole lot harder on her. And this grandmother, by defending her little devil-grandchild and his mom by not saying anything, they’re just encouraging him to be more aggressive and to hit other kids.

And NO – I did not apologize for Mia stepping on that brat’s hand. Why? Because I’m petty, too, that’s why. Am I just perpetuating rudeness? Maybe. But I’m a little person (in stature, anyway,) and as a little person, I have to be mean. Otherwise, people try to take
advantage of me.

What? That’s totally true.

Anyway, the point of this is – your child’s no angel, so stop treating him/her like one. Your job as a parent is not to be their friend. It’s to be their parent. It’s to teach them what’s right and what’s wrong. Yes, part of showing them love is disciplining them.I don’t know why people just don’t understand that.

Oh – one more thing? Can we get away from using that icky, sticky sweet baby voice on kids older than, say, 6 months? It’s grating.