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It’s the end of the day and I’m sitting in the yard, swishing my wine around in a stemless glass. The mosquitoes have arrived for the summer and they’re relentlessly nipping at my ankles.

We’ve only been home for the evening – from school and my daughter’s ballet class – for a few minutes and she’s somehow managed to become entrenched in a monster of a tantrum. Something about not being able to find a book.

“Come back outside when you’ve calmed down, please.” I tell her, pointing to the door. She trudges inside, red-faced and screaming and slamming her rage-filled fists into everything in her path.

I hear her wailing from inside and out of the corner of my eye, can see her pressing her face up against the screened-in window. I’m pretending not to notice, pretending I’ve gone deaf. I’m checking my phone for the time and hoping my husband will walk in any minute.

The baby stumbles up to me with his arms outstretched and bangs his head on the table. I pull him up into my lap, rubbing his back and wiping the not-so-unusual combination of tears, snot, and dog hair from his upper lip.

I check the time again. Where is the pizza I ordered on the way home? Where is my husband? I’m tired of waiting for everything and everyone today.

Finally, my daughter comes back outside. She’s still whimpering, but lets me hold her hands and look into her eyes. We talk about how hard it is to calm down sometimes, and I believe every word she says. I love how honest she is in these moments – when she tells me about how she can’t stop crying, or how she doesn’t really know what’s wrong – because you don’t often hear people say exactly how they feel. We’re all a little afraid of not making sense.

“Anger did it again. Sadness did it, too” she tells me. “It’s not my fault, mommy. It’s all their fault!”

I nod. “I know,” I say, and I really do know. “Sometimes anger and sadness get the best of us, but we have to learn to control them. They don’t control us, okay?”

It’s not always true, but she trusts me enough that she sniffles and nods and makes her way into my lap. Now everyone is on me and the dog is trying to get on me, too, and I know it’s going to be one of those nights when that’s where everyone wants to be. There’s no sense in fighting it, or asking for space, or even moving a muscle.

I glance at the time. I glance over my shoulder. I swish my wine.

A few hours later, everyone is sleeping. It’s nearly nine and since it’s still a nice evening, I ask my husband, who has just gotten home, if he wants to sit out on the porch tonight. “Sure,” he says, enthusiastically. Finally! It’s time to relax. It’s my chance for a decent conversation with an adult today. It’s time to catch up. It’s time to enjoy one another. It’s time to just be, without trying so, so hard.

I nestle myself into a rocking chair and look up. But my husband isn’t looking at me, instead he’s tapping on his laptop. He’s working again, so instead of finding the connection I was looking to our marriage for, I practice my patience a little more.

We sit in our rockers that are maybe the only interesting pieces of furniture we own. They were my grandfather’s and they’re made of old, swirling wood. I rock and I rock and I swish my wine.

All day, all afternoon, I’ve been waiting, I realize. Waiting for the kids to tie their shoes or clean up their mess or calm down or eat their dinner. Waiting over an hour for the pizza while everyone melted down and way longer than I thought for my husband to get home from work. And now it’s 9 o’clock and here I am, waiting again and wondering where the day went.

Finally, I’ve grown bored, and vaguely angry. I huff and puff a little, then go inside and flip on the TV. I don’t have the energy to find something decent to watch so I just leave it on a game show I’ve never seen before and didn’t know existed. An hour ago, I was tired, nearly ready for bed. Now I’m irritated and lonely and wide awake, still, swishing my wine.

I’m trying not to be mad because I know there isn’t always time in a day for everything that you need in marriage, or anything that you need, no matter how badly you need it. I’m well-versed in this truth. I’m a product of divorce. I had my first baby before I even got married, so I know the drill.

I know that marriage is not perfect – I never thought that it was. But sometimes I think I’m too hopeful that all the pieces will fall just as they should, and we’ll have time to talk or laugh, that the kids will go to sleep early and easily, that all the work will be done for the day, and that we’ll both be in a good mood at the same time. 

I’m hopeful for connection because, in this season of my life, I sorely need it. I so rarely have time to visit with friends without children hanging from my limbs as I try to focus just enough to make conversation. I have hobbies and work that I love, too. But sometimes, like on these dull nights, it’s not enough.

For a half an hour or so, I sit there stewing, having no real reason to feel unsatisfied, but letting it wash over me anyway. Feeling the emptiness of all my efforts and needing something for myself, but not knowing where it is, at least not right now.

It is not in the bottom of this glass, or bottle. It’s not outside on the porch, staring into a screen. It’s too late to pour myself into work. I’m bored by the TV and too irritated to sleep. So I stew and stew some more and think about the day I had, how long it was, and how tomorrow will probably look the same, or close to it.

But my husband doesn’t know anything about my day – that I was a good mom even though it was hard. He doesn’t know about the tantrum, or the 28 times the baby bumped his head. He doesn’t know about the 15 times I opened and closed my computer, failing to work for even a few minutes, or the 20-minute workout I attempted to do in the yard, before the baby smashed a glass on the sidewalk and I had to sprint over and scoop him up before he stepped on the shards.

He doesn’t know that I ate bites of salad and pizza in between getting everyone water, and new water when it spilled, and napkins, and reprimanding the baby for throwing food at the dog. He doesn’t know how hard I had to try to breathe deeply, and not tell my daughter – who’d been talking incessantly for hours – to please, please, stop talking.

He doesn’t know how I helped everyone practice forward rolls. He doesn’t know that I clapped while they danced and dressed in costumes for an hour before bed. He doesn’t know that I sprayed whipped cream in their mouths as a reward. And he doesn’t know that I needed him to need me differently than they did, just for a little while, before the day’s end.

Today, our interactions consisted of: passing each other in the hallway, yelling out instructions to each other as he shoveled a piece of pizza in his mouth and tucked in one of the kids. And it wasn’t horrible – in fact, it was regular.

But these hurried conversations, these days gone by without connection, sometimes make it feel like our marriage has stalled. Like it needs to be nudged, or maybe even slammed into, by one of the front-loaders in my son’s dozens of truck books.

But it’s a marriage, with young children, and it’s mostly fine. So maybe eye contact, a back rub, or someone to watch “Bloodline” with me, all have to wait. And even though I wonder how much waiting is too much, or if we’re doing it wrong, or if it just is what it is, I do know that our babies won’t always need us so much, and that work won’t always be so demanding and that one day – one day, one day – there’ll be time.

I crawl into bed alone and type a text, “are you coming up?” But my phone dies before I hit send. Instead of going back downstairs to argue, or to ask him to come to bed, or tell him how I feel, I turn out the light.

My husband doesn’t come to bed. He sleeps on the couch, but it’s not out of spite. It’s because he knows that sometimes when he wakes me, I don’t fall back to sleep. It’s an act of consideration. And it’s one I appreciate, if not at night, then in the morning when I’ve slept the whole night through until my daughter comes in – wrapping her small, strong arms around me – and the baby cries. And I feel thankful, even if it’s wrong to feel thankful for sleeping alone.

Sometimes, I worry about what this all means – the distance that comes and goes. But I know that we can’t be in sync every day. Marriage is the sum of all the days, and the days are many. Some days, I swish my wine, and I practice my patience, and I remember that it’s okay to feel.

And sometimes, it’s okay to go to bed alone.

Who said motherhood doesn't come with a manual?

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The bottle warmer has long been a point of contention for new mamas. Hotly debated as a must-have or superfluous baby registry choice, standard models generally leave new moms underwhelmed at best.

It was time for something better.

Meet the Algoflame Milk Warmer, a digital warming wand that heats beverages to the perfect temperature―at home and on the go. And like any modern mama's best friend, the Algoflame solves a number of problems you might not have even known you needed solved.

As with so many genius gadgets, this one is designed by two parents who saw a serious need. It's currently a Kickstarter raising money for production next year, but here are 10 unexpected ways this brilliant device lends a hand―and reasons why you should consider supporting its launch.

1. It's portable.

Every seasoned mama knows that mealtime can happen anywhere. And since you're unlikely to carry a clunky traditional milk warmer in your diaper bag, the Algoflame is your answer. The super-light design goes anywhere without weighing down your diaper bag.

2. It's battery operated.

No outlets necessary. Simply charge the built-in battery before heading out, and you're ready for whatever (and wherever) your schedule takes you. (Plus, when you contribute to the Kickstarter you can request an additional backup battery for those days when your errands take all.day.long.)

3. It's compact.

Even at home, traditional bottle warmers can be an eyesore on the countertop. Skip the bulky model for Algoflame's streamlined design. The warmer is about nine inches long and one inch wide, which means you can tuck it in a drawer out of sight when not in use.

4. It's waterproof.

No one likes taking apart bottle warmers to clean all the pieces. Algoflame's waterproof casing can be easily and quickly cleaned with dish soap and water―and then dried just as quickly so you're ready to use it again.

5. It has precise temperature control.

Your wrist is not a thermometer―why are you still using it to test your baby's milk temperature? Algoflame lets you control heating to the optimal temperature for breastmilk or formula to ensure your baby's food is safe.

6. It's fool-proof.

The LED display helps you know when the milk is ready, even in those bleary-eyed early morning hours. When the right temperature is reached, the wand's display glows green. Too hot, and it turns red (with a range of colors in between to help you determine how hot the liquid is). Now that's something even sleep-deprived parents can handle.

7. It's adaptable.

Sized to fit most bottles and cups on the market, you never have to worry about whether or not your bottles will fit into your warmer again.

8. It's multipurpose.

If you're a mom, chances are your cup of coffee is cold somewhere right now. The Algoflame has you covered, mama! Simply pop the wand into your mug to reheat your own beverage no matter where you are.

9. You can operate it with one hand.

From getting the milk warmer out to heating your baby's beverage, the entire wand is easy to activate with one hand―because you know you're holding a fussing baby in the other!

10. It's safe.

Besides being made from materials that comply with the FDA food contact safety standard, Algoflame boasts a double safety system thanks to its specially designed storage case. When put away in the case, the built-in magnetic safe lock turns the milk warmer to power-off protection mode so it won't activate accidentally. Additionally, the warmer's "idle-free design" prevents the heater from being accidentally activated out of the case.

To get involved and help bring the Algoflame Milk Warmer to new mamas everywhere, support the brand's Kickstarter campaign here.

This article is sponsored by Algoflame Milk Warmer. Thank you for supporting the brands that support Motherly and mamas.

Rachel McAdams didn't talk publicly about her pregnancy or her birth story. There are some things this working mama wants to keep to herself, but the fact that she needs to pump at work isn't one of them.

McAdams was recently doing a photo shoot with photographer Claire Rothstein of Girls Girls Girls magazine when she needed to take a pump break. Wearing Versace and a neck full of diamonds McAdmans did what mamas all over the world do every day, and Rothstein snapped a pic that is now going viral.

In an Instagram post, Rothstein explains that she and McAdams had a "mutual appreciation disagreement about who's idea it was to take this picture," but the photographer says she remembers it being McAdams' idea, "which makes me love her even more."

In her caption of the amazing photograph, Rothstein writes: "Breastfeeding is the most normal thing in the world and I can't for the life of me imagine why or how it is ever frowned upon or scared of."

The photographer added that she wanted to put the image out there to change perceptions about breastfeeding, pumping, and working motherhood.

McAdams decision to normalize pumping through this glamorous image is especially cool when you consider that she's not really a social media person, and spends a lot of days in much less glam attire.

She recently arrived for her first interview since welcoming her son in the spring wearing a grey shirt, baggy pants and sneakers, reportedly telling the interviewer (Helena de Bertodano for The Sunday Times U.K.), "I don't even know what I'm wearing today. The shoes are held together with glue. Isn't that sad? I need to get a life."

"I have clothes on and that's a good thing," McAdams told Bertodano during that chat. Her attire for that newspaper interview was a world away from the clothes she wore for the Girls Girls Girls shoot.

During her Sunday Times interview McAdams declined to discuss her son's name or birthdate.

"I want to keep his life private, even if mine isn't," she explained. "But I'm having more fun being a mum than I've ever had. Everything about it is interesting and exciting and inspiring to me. Even the tough days — there's something delightful about them."

Most of us will never look the way McAdams does in this photo while we're pumping, but we can totally understand that sometimes, motherhood means you're wearing sweats and sometimes it means you're pumping in your work clothes (even if for most of us, that doesn't mean Versace).

McAdams may be keeping some parts of her motherhood experience private, but by showing the world this part of her day, she's normalizing something that desperately needs normalizing.

Some mamas pump, and the world needs to know (and accommodate) that.

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To my children,

It's the New Year, and I have been doing a lot of thinking. I want to say, with all of my heart and all of my soul, that I am sorry. I want apologize for anything (and everything) I have said or done that made you feel less-than or sad or small.

I regret, so deeply, the hurt I delivered through harsh words or sideways glances, for steely eyes you didn't deserve and sarcastic replies you didn't understand. I'm sorry for being upset when I should have been more understanding, for resorting to frustration when I should have found more patience, for pulling away when I should have drawn near.

There were the times when you needed more from me, when you asked for more, and I simply couldn't provide. There were the moments when you wanted less of me, needed less from me, and I couldn't—or perhaps I just wouldn't—back away.

I start every day with a hope, a hope that I will be better than the day before.

Sometimes I succeed, but many times, I fail. Every so often, I fail in spectacular fashion. I think about all the times when I wasn't gentle enough or kind enough or attentive enough to you, about all the moments when I was too quick to anger and not quick enough to forgive.

You don't need me to tell you that I'm not perfect. Lord knows, you know far too well.

But I will say it to you, because I think it helps to hear me say it: I am not perfect. I make mistakes. I am human. I have flaws and cracks and blemishes; they are a part of me, just as they are a part of you.

Sometimes, my dear ones, my mistakes are small—like forgetting to pack your lunch or mixing up the dates for Tot Shabbat, or picking you up an hour late from a play date or accidentally switching your piano primer with your brother's, or sending a snack I know you dislike because I didn't have time to go grocery shopping and have no other food in the refrigerator. But sometimes, they aren't so minor.

Sometimes, my mistakes have to do with the way I've behaved, and the words I have said, and the way I have said them. For those times, and for all the times I failed to support you the way I should, or help you in the way you deserve, and love you in the best way I can, I am sorry.

I wish I didn't make so many mistakes. I'm a perfectionist at heart, but when it comes to parenting, there's still so much I haven't mastered. Even after almost a decade of doing this day in and day out, I still feel like a novice in so many regards and as green as I did on day one.

Precious ones, I've come to realize, no matter how hard I try, that I just can't get it right all of the time. I hope you can forgive my failings.

The older I get, the more I realize that life is a jumble of hits and misses. As many times as we try and succeed, we also try and fail. As much as we hope to do right, we often end up doing wrong. It is the story of the human condition—this mix of losses and gains, triumphs and defeats. It's all very messy (think sloppy joes and pancakes dripping with syrup kind of messy), and yet, it's all we know.

My darling ones, I want nothing more than to do right by you and be the best mother I can be for you. I want to love you unconditionally, support you unreservedly, and be present unambiguously.

In the New Year, I resolve to do better for you, to be better with you, and to act as if God is watching. You mean the world to me. You are everything to me. I love you, always and forever.

All my love,

Mommy


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People often say that having a second child doesn't much add to the workload of parenting. There's no steep learning curve: You already know how to make a bottle, install a car seat and when to call the pediatrician. And you're already doing laundry, making lunches and supervising bath time—so throwing a second kid in the tub isn't a big deal.

Except that it is. Having a second child doesn't just mean attaching a second seat to your stroller. Adding a whole new person to your family is more complicated than that, and it's okay to say that it is hard.

A new study out of Australia disputes the popular idea that after making the transition from people to parents, making the jump from one child to two is easy. The researchers found that having a second child puts a lot of pressure on parents' time and their mental health, and mothers bear the brunt of the burden.

When looking at heterosexual couples, the researchers found that before a first child is born both partners feel equal amounts of "time pressure," but once the child is born, that pressure grows, more so for mothers than fathers.

Basically, parents feel psychological stress when they feel they don't have enough time to do all they need to. One baby makes both parents feel more stress, but mom's increase is more than dad's. When a second baby comes, that time pressure doubles for both parents, and since mom already had more than dad, there's now a gulf between them.

The researchers behind this study—Leah Ruppanner, Francisco Perales and Janeen Baxter—say that after a first child is born, a mother's mental health improves, but after a second child, it declines.

Writing for The Conversation, the trio explains:

"Second children intensify mothers' feelings of time pressure. We showed that if mothers did not have such intense time pressures following second children, their mental health would actually improve with motherhood. Fathers get a mental health boost with their first child, but also see their mental health decline with the second child. But, unlike mothers, fathers' mental health plateaus over time. Clearly, fathers aren't facing the same chronic time pressure as mothers over the long-term."

The researchers say that even when mothers reduce their work time, the time pressure is still there and that "mothers cannot shoulder the time demands of children alone."

Adding a second child to the family isn't just a matter of throwing a few more socks in the laundry: It means a schedule that is already stretched is now filling up with twice as many appointments, twice as many school functions. Mothers only have 24 hours in the day, and as much as we wish we could add a couple extra hours per child, we can't.

Time simply can't change to help us, but society can. As the researchers noted, when time pressure is removed, motherhood actually improves mental health.

We love our lives, we love our kids, we love parenting, but there is only so much of our day to go around.

Ruppanner, Perales and Baxter suggest that if society were to help mothers out more, our mental health (and therefore our children's wellbeing as well) would improve even after two or three kids. "Collectivising childcare – for example, through school buses, lunch programs and flexible work policies that allow fathers' involvement – may help improve maternal mental health," the researchers explain, adding that "it is in the national interest to reduce stressors so that mothers, children and families can thrive."

Whether you're talking about Australia or America, that last bit is so true, but this research proves that the myth about second-time parenthood isn't. Even if you already have the skills and the hand-me-downs, having a second child isn't as easy as it is sometimes made out to be.

We can love our children and our lives and still admit when things aren't easy.

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We know life gets a little (okay, a lot) busy around this time of year so if you haven't crossed off everyone on your Christmas list just yet, here's your reminder that you've still got time. Fortunately, that Amazon Prime membership of yours comes in handy... especially for the holidays.

Here are some of the best last-minute gifts to get on Amazon. Also, that extra couple of dollars for gift wrapping is *so* worth it if it's available. 😉

1. Tape Activity Book

So your little can create just about anywhere—on the go, in the car or hanging out at home.

Melissa & Doug Tape Activity Book, $6.47

BUY

2. Instant Pot

Mama, meet your new best friend. 4.5 stars with nearly 30K reviews.

Instant Pot 8-qt, $89.95

BUY

3. Silicone Teething Mitt

Offer relief to your teething one with a mitt that stays in place.

Itzy Ritzy Silicone Teething Mitt, $8.99

BUY

4. Roomba

Give the gift of never having to manually vacuum again.

iRobot Roomba 690, $279.00

BUY

5. Magnetic Tiles

These are always a favorite for kids of all ages. Build endless possibilities and work on fine motor skills—win-win!

Magnetic Tiles Building Blocks Set, $31.99

BUY

6. DryBar Triple Sec

Perfect addition to mama's stocking, or paired with a salon or blowout gift card. Adds *so* much texture and volume.

DryBar Triple Sec 3-in-1, $35.99

BUY

7. Plush Animated Bunny

Plays peek-a-boo and sings for baby.

Animated Plush Stuffed Animal, $32.97

BUY

8. 23andMe

Learn everything you want to know about your family history, where you came from, and even information about your genetics.

23andMe DNA Test, $67.99

BUY

9. Boon Bath Pipes

Make bath time more fun. They suction to the wall and can be played with individually or altogether in a chain.

Boon Building Bath Pipes, $14.99

BUY

10. HP Sprocket Portable Photo Printer

For printing all of those adorable Instagram moments—and for getting *all* of the photos off your phone.

HP Sprocket Portable Photo Printer, $99.95

BUY

11. Board Blocks

Kids can sort, learn colors and shapes, and work on their hand-eye coordination.

Wooden Educational Geometric Board Block, $6.39

BUY

12. Ring Doorbell + Echo Dot

A great bundle for the techie in your life.

Ring Doorbell 2 and Echo Dot, $169.00

BUY

13. Pai Technology Circuit Conductor

For the little who wants to learn to code, this offers endless learning fun.

Pai Technology Circuit Conductor Learning Kit, $69.99

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14. Kindle Paperwhite, Audible + Headphones Bundle

Bookworms will love this bundle. Enjoy a new Kindle Paperwhite, wireless bluetooth stereo headphones, and 3 month free trial for Audible for new users.

Kindle Paperwhite Bundle, $139.00

BUY

15. Wooden Grocery Store

We love this imaginative play grocery store, complete with a beeping scanner and hand-cranked conveyor belt.

Melissa & Doug Freestanding Wooden Fresh Mart Grocery Store, $179.99

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Motherly is your daily #momlife manual; we are here to help you easily find the best, most beautiful products for your life that actually work.We share what we love—and we may receive a commission if you choose to buy. You've got this.

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