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Ma. Ma. Ma. Ma, uppy. Ma, you push swing high? Ma, potty? Ma, we go walk? Ma, we play tag? Ma, read book?


From the second – and I mean the second – they open their precious little blues, we spend all our time together. In fact, I am not sure we have spent but a handful of their waking moments apart since conception. We dress, shower, run errands, even crap with those little suckers attached to our hips.

All this time together helps create the inseparable bond we seek from birth – the connection that ensures they know we are their life force, so they don’t go wandering away with every other lady who has disheveled hair, coffee breath, and bags pulling on her eyelids.

This relationship also slowly changes the women we once were. Attention to self slips slowly to last place. Quiet moments of reflection are no longer. Gone are the days of endless meandering through life, as time is now set in blocks of feeding and nap schedules. Emails go unanswered, dates become cold meals at home, your nails (go ahead, look) scream for a file and some polish. You gradually start becoming a barely recognizable version of yourself.

 

 

A dear friend of mine, seeing me in the throes of this newfound Mommy-and-Me condition, suggested an open gym class for the boys. I signed up immediately, looking forward to them enjoying some time playing with someone other than Mommy.

I went to bed the night before class like a child before a holiday. Images of me relaxing and drinking my hot cup of coffee, maybe even catching up on some emails, while the children frolicked with their new friends, danced in my head.

As I entered the gym, my cheeks hurt from smiling, gleeful for the adventure ahead. My amusement abruptly halted, though, as I walked in the room. In front of me, a scene unfolded not much different than my living room: a bunch of toys tossed from one end of the room to the other and a bunch of mothers sitting on the floor playing with their toddlers.

Seriously??! Had I just rushed through our morning routine, raced over here, and walked through my own front door? I could have easily stayed in my pajamas and done all this in the comfort of my home. And, to top it off, I was now paying the woman who organized this “gym class.”

I figured it had to be a joke. No one would pay someone to do what they already have to do.

Sure enough. Another Mommy-and-Me trap. One more scenario where it’s just me managing my gremlins. I mean, sure, now I could look around the room and commiserate with the other ladies struggling to enjoy the torture they endured. Is there nowhere I can go and get a break?!

I love playing with my littles. Building a tower, swimming in the pool, making a playdoh house, even running in the backyard. But every now and again, I long for a secret little place we could go where my kids played with someone else for a few minutes. Where I could sip my coffee and watch them enjoying themselves from afar. Where they might not catch me savoring a pastry. Where, even for a minute, I could enjoy some time without someone hanging on me.

When I was young, my mother read to us, a lot. Some of my fondest memories are of her reading the “Little House on the Prairie” series during her work breaks. My sister and I eagerly awaited the next day’s installments. I remember her occasionally walking us to the park, where she sat on a bench and watched us play.

We had lots of Barbies and puzzles and one of those pretend kitchens. I still remember the Christmas I received my favorite plastic guitar, which I was allowed to play outside, by myself. I don’t have a tremendous amount of memories playing with my mother.

She didn’t sit on the floor and dress our dolls. We didn’t tumble and jump on her back in a gym class designed for toddlers. We had play dates with friends, where my mom and her friends sat and chatted and we kids played together, without video screens or constant adult interactions. We didn’t expect mom’s undivided attention from waking moment to sleep because, quite frankly, we knew that wasn’t an option.

So when did it become the only option??

We live in a different world now. We are judged for our parenting skills more than any other role we fill. The scrutiny has brought some significant changes in our parenting. I am all for increased car seat laws, not smoking around littles, hell, even forcing healthier food choices. These changes have all positively impacted the lives of our children. But how has attachment parenting and doting on them nonstop impacted them?

I love my kids more than life itself, and I enjoy most of the moments I spend with them. But I don’t enjoy being their buddy. I am their mom. I am the crucial part of our Mommy-and-Me, but I’m losing the Me.

I want to be the best mom I can without losing everything I once knew about myself. I want to push trucks down the banister. I want to finger paint and mold clay. I want to race each other to the park.

But I also want to get some wash done while they play. I want to drink my coffee in the morning without reheating it four times and then accepting it cold. I want a quiet dinner with my husband. I want to pee without someone trying to get in my underwear.

I hope we all find that secret hole in the wall where kids entertain themselves for a few minutes, where a play date doesn’t include us creating some orchestrated fantastical experience for them. I wish for us all to gain the strength to lock the door and let them scream outside while we use the bathroom. I wish for a break in the day to call our long-lost friends. I wish for a damn warm coffee each morning.

Here’s to taking a few minutes each day to look in the mirror and dig out the woman in there. Here’s to finding the balance between being the Mom in Mommy-and-Me and the Me in Mommy.

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Summer heat has a way of making the house feel smaller, more congested, with less room for the air to circulate. And there's nothing like heat to make me want to strip down, cool off and lighten my load. So, motivation in three digits, now that school is back in, it's time to do a purge.

Forget the spring clean—who has time for that? Those last few months of the school year are busier than the first. And summer's warm weather entices our family outdoors on the weekends which doesn't leave much time for re-organizing.

So, I seize the opportunity when my kids are back in school to enter my zone.

I love throwing open every closet and cupboard door, pulling out anything and everything that doesn't fit our bodies or our lives. Each joyless item purged peels off another oppressive layer of "not me" or "not us."

Stuff can obscure what really makes us feel light, capable and competent. Stuff can stem the flow of what makes our lives work.

With my kids back in school, I am energized, motivated by the thought that I have the space to be in my head with no interruptions. No refereeing. No snacks. No naps… I am tossing. I am folding. I am stacking. I am organizing. I don't worry about having to stop. The neat-freak in me is having a field day.

Passing bedroom doors, ajar and flashing their naughty bits of chaos at me, is more than I can handle in terms of temptation. I have to be careful, though, because I can get on a roll. Taking to my kids' rooms I tread carefully, always aware that what I think is junk can actually be their treasure.

But I usually have a good sense for what has been abandoned or invisible in plain sight for the lack of movement or the accumulation of dust. Anything that fits the description gets relegated to a box in the garage where it is on standby in case its absence is noticed and a meltdown has ensued so the crisis can be averted. Either way, it's a victory.

Oh, it's quiet. So, so quiet. And I can think it through…

Do we really need all this stuff?

Will my son really notice if I toss all this stuff?

Will my daughter be heartbroken if I donate all this stuff?

Will I really miss this dress I wore three years ago that barely fit my waist then and had me holding in my tummy all night, and that I for sure cannot zip today?

Can we live without it all? All. This. Stuff?

For me, the fall purge always gets me wondering, where in the world does all this stuff come from? So with the beginning of the school year upon us, I vow to create a new mindset to evaluate everything that enters my home from now on, so there will be so much less stuff.

I vow to really think about objects before they enter my home…

…to evaluate what is really useful,

...to consider when it would be useful,

...to imagine where it would be useful,

...to remember why it may be useful,

…to decide how to use it in more than one way,

... so that all this stuff won't get in the way of what really matters—time and attention for my kids and our lives as a new year reveals more layers of the real stuff—what my kids are made of.

Bring it on.

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In the moments after we give birth, we desperately want to hear our baby cry. In the middle of the night a few months later it's no longer exactly music to our ears, but those cries aren't just telling us that baby needs a night feeding: They're also giving us a hint at what our children may sound like as kindergarteners, and adults.

New research published in the journal Biology Letters suggests the pitch of a 4-month-old's cry predicts the pitch they'll use to ask for more cookies at age five and maybe even later on as adults.

The study saw 2 to 5-month olds recorded while crying. Five years later, the researchers hit record again and chatted with the now speaking children. Their findings, combined with previous work on the subject, suggest it's possible to figure out what a baby's voice will sound like later in life, and that the pitch of our adult voices may be traceable back to the time we spend in utero. Further studies are needed, but scientists are very interested in how factors before birth can impact decades later.

"In utero, you have a lot of different things that can alter and impact your life — not only as a baby, but also at an adult stage," one of the authors of the study, Nicolas Mathevon, told the New York Times.

The New York Times also spoke with Carolyn Hodges, an assistant professor of anthropology at Boston University who was not involved in the study. According to Hodges, while voice pitch may not seem like a big deal, it impacts how we perceive people in very real ways.

Voice pitch is a factor in how attractive we think people are, how trustworthy. But why we find certain pitches more or less appealing isn't known. "There aren't many studies that address these questions, so that makes this research especially intriguing," Hodges said, adding that it "suggests that individual differences in voice pitch may have their origins very, very early in development."

So the pitch of that midnight cry may have been determined months ago, and it may determine part of your child's future, too. There are still so many things we don't know, but as parents we do know one thing: Our babies cries (as much as we don't want to hear them all the time) really are something special.

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For many years, Serena Williams seemed as perfect as a person could be. But now, Serena is a mom. She's imperfect and she's being honest about that and we're so grateful.

On the cover of TIME, Williams owns her imperfection, and in doing so, she gives mothers around the world permission to be as real as she is being.

"Nothing about me right now is perfect," she told TIME. "But I'm perfectly Serena."

The interview sheds light on Williams' recovery from her traumatic birth experience, and how her mental health has been impacted by the challenges she's faced in going from a medical emergency to new motherhood and back to the tennis court all within one year.

"Some days, I cry. I'm really sad. I've had meltdowns. It's been a really tough 11 months," she said.

It would have been easy for Williams to keep her struggles to herself over the last year. She didn't have to tell the world about her life-threatening birth experience, her decision to stop breastfeeding, her maternal mental health, how she missed her daughter's first steps, or any of it. But she did share these experiences, and in doing so she started incredibly powerful conversations on a national stage.

After Serena lost at Wimbledon this summer, she told the mothers watching around the world that she was playing for them. "And I tried," she said through tears. "I look forward to continuing to be back out here and doing what I do best."

In the TIME cover story, what happened before that match, where Williams lost to Angelique Kerber was revealed. TIME reports that Williams checked her phone about 10 minutes before the match, and learned, via Instagram, that the man convicted of fatally shooting her sister Yetunde Price, in 2003 is out on parole.

"I couldn't shake it out of my mind," Serena says. "It was hard because all I think about is her kids," she says. She was playing for all the mothers out there, but she had a specific mother on her mind during that historic match.

Williams' performance at Wimbledon wasn't perfect, and neither is she, as she clearly states on the cover of time. But motherhood isn't perfect either. It's okay to admit that. Thanks, Serena, for showing us how.

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There are some mornings where I wake up and I'm ready for the day. My alarm goes off and I pop out of bed and hum along as I make breakfast before my son wakes up. But then there are days where I just want 10 more minutes to sleep in. Or breakfast feels impossible to make because all our time has run out. Or I just feel overwhelmed and unprepared.

Those are the mornings I stare at the fridge and think, Can someone else just make breakfast, please?

Enter: make-ahead breakfasts. We spoke to the geniuses at Pinterest and they shared their top 10 pins all around this beautiful, planned-ahead treat. Here they are.

(You're welcome, future self.)

1. Make-ahead breakfast enchiladas

www.pinterest.com

Created by Bellyful

I'd make these for dinner, too.

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