Mamalode

“Play with me mommy,” she pleaded for the third time in an hour.

Am I a bad parent? I think it’s the question that haunts us all.

When I found out I was pregnant, there were certain dreams that I knew I would have to set aside

I have to keep telling myself it’s just hair, and it will continue to grow. Just like my baby.

When Skye goes to her dad’s, like she’s about to do, alone takes on a whole new meaning for me.

How was I supposed to explain death to a four-year-old, especially when the pain of that death is still so fresh in my own heart?

“Mommy, where’s your Prince Charming?”

My daughter and I will both be losing our best friends in less than 48 hours.

Just because I’m five to ten years their junior, doesn’t make me any less of a mother.

The more people who commented on my youth, and subsequently my seemingly-obvious inability to be a good mother, the more I rebelled against such asinine arguments.