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I paged through Sheryl Sandberg's women-in-leadership missive, Lean In, while stuffed into a tin-can airplane winging south to Toronto, delivering me to my first, and only business trip. I'd left my husband and 2-year-old daughter behind in our small northwestern Ontario town, confident that they could survive without me.


The trip did absolutely nothing to bolster my career, nor did the book, but it was nice to get away for a weekend on my own.

I am—or rather, was—a reporter for a small community newspaper serving a town of roughly 6000 people. I started the job fresh out of a college photojournalism program, driving myself 2000 kilometres north in a station wagon, iMac lovingly buckled into the passenger seat, celebratory champagne buried beneath the suitcases and boxes.

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The plan I reminded myself of when I questioned why, exactly, I was subjecting myself to this drive and the utter remoteness of my home to be, was simple. I’d move north and work for a year, then head off to something exciting and adventurous, maybe a reporting job in the real north of Yellowknife or foray into perfecting my high-school Spanish skills in Nicaragua.

On my very first day at the paper, I nosed my station wagon into the rutted dirt parking lot and looked up at the red brick building to see a floppy-haired fellow bounding up the slumping stairs with a cardboard tray of coffee.

Reader, I married him.

Really, I did. I dated him; the world's worst-kept office secret. I had a panic attack when the delivery truck carrying two sofas arrived in the driveway of our rented home, understanding that I could no longer easily pack my possessions into a vehicle and flee. But I dug into the relationship, and into my job.

Ink and newsprint, as much a part of our relationship as love and fidelity.

Northwestern Ontario winters as bitterly drudging as they are, our daughter, Marigold, entered the world 14 months later. I spent 11 months home with her and despaired at leaving her in the care of a stranger when my parental leave ran out, but the day I walked back into my office and reclaimed my desk, my former job and former life as an independent adult wrapped itself around me like a well-worn blanket, comforting me with its familiarity.

Marigold thrived on a level of socialization I could not give her on my own, and I thrived on talking to adults, using the bathroom without an audience, existing somewhere with my own thoughts and my own life for a handful of hours every weekday.

Yet balancing motherhood and journalism challenged me. Matt was working 12-hour shifts; I had no choice but to work evenings and weekends, and our childcare was not always reliable. I toted Marigold along with me to the office and in the field, hiking her up on my hip with one hand while maneuvering a camera with the other, handing over stacks of Post-its she stuck all over the office walls, listening to interviews I'd taped and episodes of Curious George simultaneously.

Sometimes congratulatory images and articles spread across social media, lauding women who bring their children into work, in politics especially, and all I can think when I see them is, Wow I know how challenging that is, how is she possibly making government-level decisions while her kid is chewing on her blouse?

It wasn't all work with no joy, though. Our son came along three years and nine days after our daughter. I had every intention of circling back to my job a year after his birth. Then, a few months before my workplace due date beckoned, I changed my mind.

After eight years at the same job, eight years at the only job I have held as an adult, the only job I have held in my industry, the entirety of my fledgling career, really... I decided to lean out.

Eight years of my life I have remained in this place where I landed, and my job has been one of the biggest constants. It is the reason I settled here in the first place. Newspaper work is cyclical and I could easily mark eight years of seasons by the stories written in my notebook each week.

Quitting feels like cutting my safety net loose, but the plunge is exhilarating.

These days that go by, days when I'm not entirely sure I actually accomplished anything at all, days of pressing nut-free sandwiches into dinosaur shapes, of sweeping the same spot on the floor three times in six hours, of purchasing dry shampoo in bulk amounts and pondering when I showered last, of color-coding activities on a calendar that takes up at least half of our refrigerator door real estate—these days will not last forever. I know this.

I know this because these days are already a shifting sea, as baby becomes toddler and kindergartener becomes self-declared big kid.

Oh, sometimes I feel like I'm on running on a wheel, a hamster scampering relentlessly inside the cheapest cage sold at the store. Like if I stop moving, all the lights will turn off and everything will cease to exist. But if I'm going to run on that hamster wheel, I want to win Most Valuable Hamster.

Right now, I can't fathom stretching my attention and my resources even further by being an employee, by showing up day after day on someone else's schedule to meet someone else's needs. I have my own hamster wheel and I do not need another one.

Anything new I add to this life subtracts from something else, and that arithmetic cuts my family short and leaves me depleted. I'm not willing to do it.

I know that I like to work. I know that I want to work again when it isn't detrimental to my carefully fought for, seldom realized household balance. I know that I might have this choice taken away from me if something in this precarious balance shifts and we need to shore things up with added income.

So maybe I'm not leaning out. Maybe I'm leaning back, sheltering, instead of squaring my body against the wind and planting my feet. I'm not sure yet. But I don't need to know yet, either.

What I do know is this: I am not going to apologize for leaning out of my career, much as those who lean in should not apologize, either. The thing about leaning is that it isn't permanent. In, out, back, forward; the scales tip as we place and replace what matters and what does not. And we are the individual administrators of those values.

Leaning into the wind—into the bluster of a busy career, or into the tempest of parenting—is in fact the same action, no matter what is powering the gale.

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So far 2020 has been a year of big changes for Meghan Markle and her husband, Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex. Earlier this month the royal couple announced plans step back and senior members of the royal family. Initially, the plan was for the couples to retain their royal tiles and raise their "son with an appreciation for the royal tradition into which he was born" while also give themselves the space to work and live in North America.

But sometimes, young parents have to make tough choices to do what's best for their new family and that can mean making changes that impact your family of origin.

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This weekend the Queen announced that her family has found a way for Harry and Meghan to move forward, and it means they're not only not senior royals anymore, they do not have HRH titles (His Royal Highness or Her Royal Highness) anymore and "are no longer working members of the Royal Family."

The statement from the Queen reads, in part: "Following many months of conversations and more recent discussions, I am pleased that together we have found a constructive and supportive way forward for my grandson and his family.

"Harry, Meghan and Archie will always be much loved members of my family.

"I recognise the challenges they have experienced as a result of intense scrutiny over the last two years and support their wish for a more independent life.

"I want to thank them for all their dedicated work across this country, the Commonwealth and beyond, and am particularly proud of how Meghan has so quickly become one of the family.

"It is my whole family's hope that today's agreement allows them to start building a happy and peaceful new life."

The Queen's statement explains that Harry and Meghan have "shared their wish to repay Sovereign Grant expenditure for the refurbishment of Frogmore Cottage, which will remain their UK family home."

Basically, they're serious about being financially independent and they're going to pay rent on the cottage.

Untangling family issues can be hard, and it is hard for anyone to imagine what it must be like to live this out on the world's stage. In her statement, the Queen said she understands the role the intense press scrutiny has played in the couple's decision to forge a new path, and that they will always be her family.

Whether you're leaving the royal family to move to Canada, or just trying to explain to your parents that your own family needs to move to another state, this stuff is hard.

Here's to a new chapter in 2020, for Harry and Meghan and all the other new parents who are writing their own stories.

News

Motherhood is a juggling act. Whether you have one child or many, work outside the home or don't, have a partner or are doing this whole thing solo, you are always juggling something. So how on earth do we keep up the act? How do we ensure no ball gets dropped?

We don't.

All of us, every single one, lets something slip through our fingers on some occasion or another. And that's totally okay.

A friend from college recently commented on Instagram how peaceful and sweet my children seemed. I laughed out loud, and not an endearing chuckle, a wholehearted cackle. What a glorious and erroneous idea that my children are peaceful and sweet. I have three of these beautiful monsters, ages 12, 5 and 4 months. Our house sounds more like a child run circus than a zen meditation retreat.

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It is true that my children are sweet at times. And I will admit I try very hard to create a peaceful life and home, but those are not the two words I would ever use to describe our family. I might choose words like rambunctious, spirited, passionate and intense.

What I realized as I simultaneously smiled and snorted in laughter, was that I put a lot of work into creating a life on social media that looks just like that. Peaceful and sweet. I choose my words carefully, I edit my photos and of course choose only the best ones, the ones where everyone is smiling and we appear to love each other. The pictures of my children pulling each other's hair, stealing snacks and shouting that they hate each other don't get quite as many likes.

Don't get me wrong—my children often smile and we do love each other very much. But by carefully curating the life I post on social media I have unintentionally created something laughable. What a jolt to realize the very thing I'm striving for makes me laugh out loud when someone names it. Is there anything more inauthentic than that?

I am working to strive for authenticity and perfect imperfection.

I make mistakes, hurt those I love, burn dinner and that is what makes me human.

I drop the ball every single day in some large or small way—and that's okay. It is to be expected really.

It's what can give us the gift of connection. We can connect with one another via our faults and our vulnerabilities. We starve ourselves of this by pretending to be perfect.

As I write this I'm sitting in the front seat of my car in the parking lot of our local skate park, my youngest is napping in his car seat, my oldest is wearing a helmet and pads and is driving his new BMX bike as fast as he can up and down hills and ramps set at odd angles with weird curves among them.

This moment feels ideal t. The breeze blows through my open windows as my oldest is getting a great workout and my youngest slowly wakes up cooing.

We can only enjoy the moment if we are present within it. When I live my life constantly in a state of distraction, constantly keeping my eyes on all the balls I'm juggling, I'm not enjoying any of it.

I am not a master juggler at this moment in life. I don't think what I'm doing even looks like juggling. I do not have my eyes on all the balls, I am not even attempting to catch or toss them all in that perfect arc that looks so magical.

I prefer to relish these kinds of moments, soak up their joy, their peace, their sweetness and to do that I have to let go of the charade, I have to accept imperfection in the form of letting some balls drop.

I want to live a life full of authenticity and joy in the simple moments.

I want to live without the pressure of doing it all.

I want to give myself the gift of not doing everything the way it should be done by the imagined deadlines that cannot be met.

I want to enjoy my rambunctious, passionate children.

So I let the ball drop—and I'm okay with that.

Life

Feeding your new baby can be a beautiful experience, but it can also be really hard. We at Motherly have talked about it. Amy Schumer has talked about it. And now Kate Upton is talking about it, too.

Upton and her husband Justin Verlander became parents when their daughter Genevieve was born in November 2018, and in a new interview with Editorialist, Upton explains that while she loves motherhood she didn't always love breastfeeding.

"Having VeVe has changed my life in such a wonderful way," she explains, adding that in the early days of motherhood she felt "so much pressure"..."to be doing all these things, like breastfeeding on the go—when the reality, for me, was that breastfeeding was sucking the energy away from me. I realized I needed to calm down, to allow my body to recover."

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Breastfeeding can take up a lot of a mama's time and energy in those early weeks and months, and while Upton doesn't explicitly say whether she switched to formula, combo fed, pumped or what, it's clear that she did give herself some grace when it came to breastfeeding and found the right parenting pace by taking the pressure off of herself.

Upton took the pressure off herself when it came to her demanding breastfeeding schedule, and she's also resisting the pressure to keep up with a social media posting schedule.

"I want to be enjoying my life, enjoying my family, not constantly trying to take the perfect picture," she says. "I think my husband wants me to throw my phone away. We talk about it in the house all the time: 'Let's have a phone-free dinner.' We don't want [our daughter] thinking being on the phone is all that life is."

Whether the pressure to be perfect is coming from your phone or from society's conflicting exceptions of mothers it's a force worth rejecting. Upton is loving life at her own pace, imperfect as reallife can be.

News

After the treat-filled sugar rush of holidays and birthdays, it can be hard to get back on track with eating healthy as a family. (What can I say, I love cake—and my kids do, too.) It's totally okay to hold your boundary for sugar in your kid's diet, no matter what that boundary is. And you can do it without being the bad guy.

Putting a positive spin on "the sugar issue" (letting kids know that they can have treats sometimes, but not all. the. time.) will help prevent sugar becoming an ongoing power struggle, which nobody wants.

Here are a few phrases that can help your kids eat less sugar, without creating a power struggle over treats:

1. "Holiday and birthday treats are so fun, but they're not for every day."

Acknowledge that all of the extra treats were fun (they were!). You can talk about how some foods are for special occasions and others are the ones we eat every day to have strong bodies and feel good.

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2. "I feel so much better when I eat lots of fruits and vegetables."

Instead of putting the emphasis on why sugar is bad, try focusing on all the good reasons to eat healthy foods. You can talk about how eating carrots gives us strong eyes, eating oranges keeps us from getting sniffles, or eating kale helps us feel good and have lots of energy for playing.

3. "Which fruit would you like to have with your lunch?"

Keep it fun by letting your child choose which healthy foods to eat. Two or three choices are fine. You can let them help pick at the grocery store or let them pick from the options you've selected—the important thing is to offer choice.

4. "Let's see if we can make a rainbow on your plate!"

Who doesn't love rainbows, especially among the under-six crowd? Use their universal appeal to your advantage and encourage kiddos to make their own edible rainbows.

Make it extra fun by writing a checklist with colored pencils, one checkbox for every rainbow color, and bringing it with you to the grocery store. Let your child choose one item from the produce section for every color.

5. "You can choose one treat with dinner, but candy isn't a choice for snack today."

Make sure kids know that they will still be able to enjoy treats sometimes. Instead of saying "candy makes you crazy," or "sugar rots your teeth," just let them know when you're okay with them having a treat. It may be every night after dinner, only on Friday nights, or it may not be until Valentine's Day, but having a clear boundary will help reduce the constant pleas for sweet treats.

6. "I think treats feel more special when we don't have them every day."

Talk to your child about how part of the fun of holiday treats is that they're out of the ordinary. They are special traditions we get to enjoy each year and they help make the holidays feel magical. Just as it wouldn't be as fun if we had a Christmas tree up all year or wore a Halloween costume every day, treats aren't as fun if we eat them nonstop.

7. "I hear that you really want candy. I can't let you have it right now, but it's okay to be disappointed."

Let your child know that you empathize with their feelings about not being able to eat what they want all of the time.

Sometimes children just need to be heard. It might be more important to them to know that you understand their feelings about treats than to actually get a treat.

8. "Let's think of a healthy treat we could get at the grocery store next week."

Brainstorm with your child and come up with a list of healthy treats you could bring home from your next grocery shopping trip. This might be a kind of fruit they haven't had in a while, a granola bar you don't usually buy, or the makings of a fun trail mix.

Part of the fun of treats is the ritual—you can still enjoy the sweetness without the extra sugar.

9. "Would you like to bake with me?"

Carry those fond memories of making Christmas cookies together into the new year to help wean kids off the holiday high of constant treats. Just find something you're okay with your child eating regularly, like a healthy muffin recipe, baked oatmeal, or energy bites—whatever meets your own nutritional guidelines for your family!

10. "I noticed you didn't sleep well when you ate those treats before nap time. Let's think of a better time for treats together."

You can explain the effects of sugar on the body without vilifying it. Sometimes just saying sugar is bad makes it all the more desirable or pits you against your child. But that doesn't mean you can't give them the facts. Just tell them plainly that sugar makes it harder for them to sleep well, makes it harder for them to concentrate, or whatever other effects you've seen.

Here's to a healthy 2020—you've got this, mama!

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