When we got home from the party, bugs were visibly crawling in her hair. I raced to the supermarket and picked up pesticide-grade lice removal kits and wine. With Catholic guilt about probably infesting the movie theater, I stayed up all night cleaning the house, scrubbing, washing sheets, towels, bedding, coats, scarves, hats, and stuffed animals.
My parents' bed was always warm. A cushion of comfort, wrapped around my body, encouraging me to snuggle in deeper, pull the blankets up tighter.
He is only five and I didn't lose him at a familiar school with adults he trusted. I left him hiding in a bush at a small, local water park during an intense game of hide and seek.
I've seen a lot of writing from moms who are sad to see the end of summer. They want more precious sun-soaked days with their children. More ice cream and …
By Stacey Conner. My memories from summer camp are all about freedom.
By Kathy Glow. Have you done any of my bucket list items? What’s on your list?
By Angela Jamison. It's a funny thing—going from longing for those breaks from your babies to wishing you never had a break from them.
By Kathy Glow. I can’t make him do something he doesn’t want to do, and I’ve struggled with that a lot lately.
By Stacey Conner. My children are so lucky to live in such a kind world.