If we come from dysfunction, at some point in our lives we must become our own loving parent. We must listen to the voice within—for it is in that voice that we are able to change negative cycles.
For five years I have been on a journey to discover how to balance my life, so I can feel more love, peace, and happiness with my family. Thankfully, I buried my “Supermom” cape long ago. I am enough, and so are you!
I love that this book gave me a greater sense of hope for myself and a deeper respect for my son. Often what I’m reaching for in a parenting book is a greater handle on myself and concrete principles to help me nurture my children. This book provides both.
In Daring Greatly, author Brené Brown goes to the heart of what many of us think, but never talk about—the hidden shame we feel about ourselves in various aspects of our lives and the reluctance to be vulnerable about sensitive topics.
A few years ago, my family was going through a lot of changes. I looked for books to help my two-year-old know what to expect, but it was hard to find age-appropriate story lines. So I wrote my own book! It might be a perfect approach for you, too.
What doesn’t get talked about much are the ways that single parenting is absolutely amazing. Which is a shame, because even though it’s hard, I know I have had some very special experiences that were only possible because I’m a single parent.
As my kids get older, I’m realizing that the solution to healthy eating AND sanity lies in one place: my kids need to learn to cook.
We tell ourselves stories about our lives and our children, but we can and need to tell ourselves the best part of our stories.
This article was originally posted on November 4, 2014. I was really struggling when my twins were a couple months old. I hadn’t slept well in months, at least one baby was either nursing or crying around the clock, and my two-year-old was having a hard time adjusting to her new role as […]
To celebrate the longest night of the year—the day when the solar year bottoms out and starts to climb back up again—we go outside and light a fire. We stand around it, stamp our feet a little to chase away the cold, and something magical happens.
What our children need—what they will always need—is our faith, not our fears. I suspect that worry, however hard we try to conceal it, is shared with them in some sort of tight knot they carry around.
When bedtime didn’t go as planned, I found a way to show my son that I don’t just love him, I enjoy him too.