Editor's note: "To Be a Mom" is an occasional column that examines the challenges of mothering children of all ages. It hopes to grow up to be a regular weekly column very soon. I write this column with a box of tissues and a hot cup of tea with honey on my desk. As fate would have it, I’ve succumbed to the illness that has run rampant in my home this past week. But moms don’t get sick, at least that’s what I tell myself. I couldn’t possibly have a cold. It just can’t be. Other moms will agree that with the responsibilities we take on each week, there’s just no time for sickness. It’s not an …
We’ve always had a love of the outdoors. Prior to having children, we enjoyed weekends backpacking in the mountains, rock climbing, and traveling cross-country with just a tent and a couple of sleeping bags. Adventure always has been in our blood. In the early stages of our marriage we had concerns about how having children would impact our love of adventure until we met a couple at a wedding reception. They were in their early 40s. As we sat with them at the dinner table, we told them about our hopes of having children and our fears of how that might change us. Their advice was some of the …
Having a child completely changes your life. That’s what everyone says. My husband and I knew things would be different … lots of crying, burping, endless diapers, sleepless nights, and of course a beautiful new love like we’d never known before. But no one ever told us it would ultimately change our relationships as well. The topic is more taboo to discuss than politics or religion. These are unchartered waters; another chapter that’s lacking from the baby books. It should be titled "Friends: Get ready for new ones." We were among the first of our friends to have children, which made things …
The Christmas presents are already soggy with newborn drool. The wrapping paper, snagged by curious little fingers, now looks more like Santa's version of Peek-A-Boo. And the sugar-fortified squeals of this mischievous, diapered elf (a.k.a. my four-month-old son) gently reminds this Mommy that her post-pregnancy diet of holiday cookies is most certainly passing through her breast milk. Ahh…the joys of a baby's first Christmas. Between my tone-deaf caroling that can shatter icicles and my baby's toothless grins of encouragement, it dawns on me one evening: does this kid even care? I mean, …
As Christmas rapidly approaches, once again I face the guilt of lying to my children. Is it me or does it seem morally wrong to continue to tell our kids that a man in a fuzzy red suit with a big white beard and flying deer will arrive at our homes on Christmas Eve and slide down our chimneys? Oh, I know the story and why the tradition was begun. At one time the story of 'Jolly Old St. Nicholas' was true ... to some degree. But still, it bothers me. And yet, I continue to tell the lie year after year. The guilt first struck me around this time last year when my oldest son was seven, the …
