I love motherhood, it is my greatest achievement, but it is a terrifying thought to raise my own teenage girls.
I remember feeling nervous as a 9th grade girl—wanting to feel pretty, fretting over whether my outfit and hair were just right, putting on a face of confidence when I was terrified on the inside.
by Matilda Beltz, age 13 Should I put that picture of my PSL on my snapchat story? Does this selfie look bad? Do they all secretly hate me? Are my …
I will admit that from the moment the two of you met, way back in kindergarten, I warned my son about you. I told him that you were bad news. But he didn't listen, and you and he bonded over illicit illegal activities and your broken homes.
Even with all of her maturity, sophistication and intolerance for everything you do, this same girl still needs her mom.
My little boy who once so openly adored me is masked by pre-teen, eye-rolling, heavy-sighing adolescence.
By Tara at YKIHAYHT. For reasons not yet known, you were chosen to be my oldest.
By Katrina Willis. Today, seventeen is also the age of my firstborn.
So what’s my job now? To laugh with them I guess, about life and things we shouldn’t take too seriously. To care about something enough that it drives you. To teach them not to depend on me, but still need me. And how to be independent, but value community and family. Teach them how to be big brothers to their sister and how to figure out what they believe, stand up for it, but not be intolerant of others.