The post Marriage Isn’t Over After Kids. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

My kids—gloriously, wondrously, delightfully—think I’m cool.

I dyed my hair blue nearly a year ago, and recently I transitioned it to purple. My 6-year-old wasn’t annoyed or embarrassed, like maybe she could have been in another decade. Instead, she picked out purple glasses to match my hair, and told me that now all she needs is purple hair to match.

Then, when I, too, chose new glasses for myself—purple and like hers—she was beyond ecstatic to be Matchy-Matchy with Mommy. Because I’m still cool.

I’m aware it won’t always be like this. There will be, minimally, a stretch of years in high school where Mom will be anti-cool. I’m not prepared for it, so much as expecting it.

In the meanwhile, I want to do these 75 things—while I still easily can.

1. Let them in. Let them know and understand who I am, so they hopefully reciprocate as they grow.

2. Cover their soft skin in kisses.

3. Hold them when they cry.

4. Teach them to breathe through emotions that feel too big to handle.

5. Play dolls.

6. Color instead of doing the housework, at least from time to time.

7. Really listen to them when they talk to me, because even the most seemingly small stories they share often have pieces of who they are growing up to be buried inside.

8. Let them practice yoga with me when they want to, even if it means I physically get less out of it.

9. Slow down and let them walk.

10. Teach them to ask for help.

11. Teach them they can do so much on their own.

12. Let them wear the tutu over the sweatpants, even if I think it looks ridiculous.

13. Let them buy a shirt from the boy/girl section so they learn to appreciate their own and others’ gender fluidity.

14. Help them see the fun of rainy days.

15. Put my phone down and look them in the eyes when they talk to me, so I can expect this from them later.

16. Teach them manners, so they can show respect for others and themselves.

17. Laugh at their silly jokes.

18. Remember they are not me.

19. Read tons of books with them.

20. Help with puzzles, even though I’ve never liked puzzles.

21. Say “no” when it needs to be said, even if it’s harder for me in the moment.

22. Say “yes” when it needs to be said, even if it’s harder for me in the moment.

23. Play in the snow.

24. Jump through the sprinkler.

25. Never make them kiss and hug anyone so they learn who is in charge of their bodies—themselves.

26. Enjoy, as much as possible, my constant bathroom companions while they still love my company so much, I can’t even go to the bathroom alone.

27. Sing along to their favorite songs with them since right now they think Mommy has the prettiest voice.

28. Never dismiss what they like, even if it’s “Caillou.”

29. Show them we all have bad days, but that a bad day doesn’t equal a bad life.

30. Show them to look for the hidden happiness that exists within every ordinary day.

31. Watch them dance, and wiggle and move to music in that open way only little kids can.

32. Dance with them.

33. Teach them to work with what they’ve got, not against it. (Like my daughter’s curly hair, for example.)

34. Be positive about my own body with them.

35. Teach them to use the correct words for body parts—like vagina, penis and breasts—instead of crude, or cute, nicknames.

36. Help make potentially stressful mornings of getting everyone ready for the day in a short period of time feel fun and productive by shouting “We did it!” together.

37. Support my husband’s parenting in front of them.

38. Let them remind me how the simplest of life’s experiences—like watching the sun rise from between the trees while we wait for the school bus—becomes incredible with a fresh perspective.

39. Crouch down next to my toddler to watch her be fascinated by a bug.

40. Be a safe place for them.

41. Dress up on Halloween.

42. Get excited about the holidays—remember to share in their enthusiasm rather than seeing the ways holidays can be difficult for adults.

43. Appreciate our differences.

44. Take charge of my own feelings by, for instance, saying “I’m so mad” instead of “You’re making me so mad.”

45. Value kindness.

46. Dye my hair purple. Even though I’m 37. Show them how to take care of our individuality while respecting society as a whole.

47. Celebrate every single birthday.

48. Celebrate every single new laugh line.

49. Stop and look into their eyes and always be appreciative that I get to share their childhoods with them.

50. Maintain my own interests and hobbies as much as possible so they learn to prioritize both self-care and hard work.

51. Show them some goals take daily effort and time to finish, like when I write books or when they practice new skills like reading and writing.

52. Show them where and how the world and people aren’t being treated equally, and teach them to believe we should feel a responsibility to help.

53. Teach them to care for our possessions, but not to place too much value in things.

54. Take time to hug.

55. Tell them how much I love being their Mommy.

56. Show them how much I love being their Mommy.

57. Occasionally take days “off” from social media—without grand announcements—to remember the importance and beauty of “real” life.

58. Eat the birthday cake.

59. Make new traditions for them and our family.

60. Pass down traditions that are meaningful to me.

61. Look with awe at the moon.

62. Be in awe of the seasons.

63. Never stop playing.

64. Expect them to explore their uncomfortable emotions, like anger and sadness.

65. Always have at least one “impossible” dream.

66. Always make a wish on the stars.

67. Celebrate others’ successes with them.

68. Teach our daughters how to admire the beauty of other women rather than be envious of them.

69. Remember what makes us uniquely beautiful, too.

70. Try to see their fears and joys from their youthful perspective and not my own experiences.

71. Teach them to value the strength of their own voices and to balance this with listening to others.

72. Remind them I love them and their company, but I am their parent.

73. Teach them how to disagree while being respectful.

74. Don’t keep everything special and fun for the weekend.

75. Be present with them when it’s hard, when it’s wonderful, and when it’s just another normal day with them while they’re still little.

The post 75 Things I’m Doing While My Kids Still Think I’m Cool. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

I’m eternally grateful for my ignorance about motherhood before having kids.

I naively thought, like everyone else I know, that parenthood was much different than it actually is, or that I was somehow exempt from the ubiquitous concerns I’d witnessed other people go through after having a baby.

Date nights? (Insert cocky laughter.) Of course, we’ll still have plenty of time to be a couple!

The thing is, we are all entitled to our hazy arrogance of what we have in store for us and, especially as the one uncomfortably carrying the baby around for the gestational period, I’m glad that I was such an unrealistic idiot, or, more accurately, that I had no real concept of what my reality would be.

That said, here are a few things to consider for anyone who does want a glimpse of what happened, for me at least, after baby arrived, as well as a few others I laugh about in retrospect.

1. Those damn baby mittens.

Don’t buy those baby mitten things. Neither of my babies have ever worn those damn cotton mittens that my husband always thought were weird socks. I even kept them around when I was getting out the crate of baby clothes I’d saved from my first child, and my second baby still never wore them once.

2. Babies don’t wear shoes. Ever. And when they start to finally be ready for more than socks, they kick off every pair of shoes that gets put on. Stop throwing money away on shoes that will only look pretty on the dresser. Unless you like them as decorations.

3. It doesn’t matter what your “post-baby body” looks like. You just had a fucking baby. Look at her instead of your stomach.

4. Babies don’t need multiple Instagram filters or fancy bows to look cute.

5. It sounds fun to stay up and have a glass of wine with the husband. Oh, look at the time—it’s after 10! Oh, sure, another glass of wine sounds lovely. Baby crying at two in the morning, and then at four in the morning, and then at six when we finally get up—oh yeah, that’s why we don’t stay up late.

6. Fact. All kids eat kid food and listen to kid music.

7. Fact. All mothers can occasionally abide by the “it’s five o’clock somewhere” rule, because a little-known truth is that it was created for us.

8. Fact. It’s absolutely true that it’s utterly impossible to imagine how much you will love this tiny person.

The post 8 Truths of Being a New Parent. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

Marriage these days is a much discussed tradition.

There are those who prefer to not partake in it, although this doesn’t necessarily mean not co-existing in a life-long relationship. There are those, too, who have fought for their rights just to get married in the first place. Then there are those, like me.

I never dreamt about my wedding dress, or had the whole thing planned out.

I was never the girl who, at 14, knew what color her bridesmaids would wear; the age I was when I met the man I would date for over 10 years and eventually marry. (Not that there is anything problematic about having these sort of well-laid plans.)

I did always know I wanted to get married. Specifically, I always knew I wanted to marry him.

And yet cross-country moves for graduate school, traveling for work, and children are all typical life experiences that have challenged our union.

Marriage truly is not always easy, even if it is always something I feel fortunate to share with this man I chose.

Recently, our children are the most joyous aspect of our life, but, alternately, we are not one of those couples who only have their kids in common.

We both love to nerdily talk science, to taste hoppy beers, to backpack for days in the middle of nowhere, to make and eat good food, to exercise, to laugh (and, thankfully, we have the same zesty sense of humor). I could go on and on about what we share, besides our children and marriage certificate.

More, we are in love.

Every day, I fall more in love with this man.

He is not a stranger that I love but am not in love with. Rather, he still makes my heart pitter-patter when I see his name come up on my cell phone, as he calls from work; I still look at him and think he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and then I trace my favorite features of his along the lines of my children’s faces.

I’m grateful for still feeling in love.

This all said, our children are the most joyous things in our lives, but, equally, they’re a daily hurdle for our real-life romance.

So I proposed what I decided to call The Kissing Experiment. It worked.

In less than 24 hours, our romance was so charged, that I felt a giddiness in the pit of my belly equivalent to either our younger years of courtship—when alone time was neither rare or as deeply coveted—or to those periods of our lives when love is sparked and fueled by a special event—like, for us, our wedding day or when we found out we were pregnant with our children.

Love is funny. Everyone wants it, but often we forget that it takes work, especially after kids.

Romance and maintaining a connection with our spouses and staying “in love” are not things that just spontaneously combust. Instead, they’re aspects of life that, much like that cliched fire, stay lit because we’ve stoked it attentively.

The Kissing Experiment was not well thought out, well planned or difficult. The concept was, intentionally, simple.

I’d felt us fighting over those little nothings lately—the types of fights that happen as people potentially grow apart, symbolic of larger concerns because no one honestly cares, for instance, if the wet towel is left lying on the carpet for a few minutes after a shower rather than immediately hung up.

We couldn’t reconnect in the ways that couples more typically maintain that spark—that closeness of impromptu intimacy; the tenderness of weekends in bed; the silliness of lingerie at 2 in the afternoon or random appetizers eaten out—the kinds of things that are not for people with kids under age 5.

I proposed kissing. Not even make-out level kissing. The kind of kissing you can do in front of kids.

Kissing is so intimate a gesture, but it’s so easily thrown to the wayside in between dirty diaper piles and crying dinner companions.

At first our kisses were fast and almost forced.

Then it grew to kissing more passionately in the kitchen while the girls were in the adjoining family room.

It led—in 24 hours—to us covertly giggling together instead of unnecessarily snapping at one another.

Adorably, my daughter’s dolls started pecking each other and saying hi.

This is something she started playing years ago, but I hadn’t realized she’d nearly completely stopped in recent weeks until her dolls started to give quick “Oh, hi’s!” and “muah’s” to one another all over again.

Our love felt deliriously rejuventated—the intended hope of this “experiment.” What was unexpected, however, was the positive effects I’ve already observed in my children.

Kids need to see their parents love each other. Kids need to see the positive parts of when two people do choose to marry and stay married and stay married and stay married. That’s sometimes what we do, in marriages: we stay married when it’s not easy, but we know we still love our partner and that “this too shall pass.” More than this, I want my kids to see what love, regardless of label, looks like.

Love should look like stolen kisses while making dinner.

Love should look like holding hands when walking into the grocery store.

Simultaneously, love should look like fights that we courageously recover from.

Love should be multi-faceted and complex, easy and challenging, special and unique—all the the things that people are too.

The post The Kissing Experiment. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

I wanted to call this article something “mature” yet catchy, like “When Sex Can’t Be the Band-Aid.”

My husband, however, suggested “From Ballin’ to Crawlin:’ Can Your Relationship Survive Without Sex?”

Because, the thing is—I’m not a “sex” writer.

Nope. I’m a mom, and a yogi, and a this and a that—but I don’t write about sex.

Except for now I do, and I will—about something that I believe fully in; about something that lately has been regularly reinforced as a serious truth in both my relationship and my life as a mother.

And here it is: an outright declaration that couples planning a family should find other ways to connect intimately, besides sex, before having kids.

Because all couples think they will be that special, magical couple who still has a hugely invigorating sex life, after kids.

There, I’ve said it.

Don’t worry, we all think this, or no kids would likely intentionally be made in the first place—if you like sex; which I do. So this, please consider, is also written from that standpoint. (I’m so sorry, Mom.)

Yet, it’s a universal joke for a reason: having sex with kids in the house is a whole new ball game—hahaaaa! Sorry again, but it’s a reality that we need to have other ways to connect.

Our kids learn to communicate from us.

Children see the way that their parents exchange differing opinions, the way that we hug, or don’t hug; the ways that we embrace—in words and arms and lips—in front of them.

Kids see everything.

But, as a couple, if our main way to reconnect and get close after a blow-out or a “discussion” is sex—then we’re in for potential trouble.

Sex can be an easy way out.

It can be a mind-blowing experience that we pretend means soul-mate love, or it can be a way for those of us who are otherwise well-matched to reconnect after a bad experience. Sex, though, is no longer the easy way out when you have kids.

Instead, it becomes planned (well worth it), or perfectly timed (again, well worth it) or ignored (ugh) or placed on the back burner (place it on the front burner of the schedule again).

Because, yes, sex should be something that we make important, and that we make time for—but, that’s a different article, no?—but trust me when I say that it cannot be the main way that couples engage in communication or play if the relationship is going to have longevity.

So what else can we do?

The following are a few suggestions for couples who want to get along well, so that they still want to have sex:

1. Talk.

I will not play the gender card here either.

Some people are more verbal and others are not, and I don’t believe this is a man or woman thing. Instead, it’s a hodgepodge of how willing we are to share, if words are the way that we show love, and likely, too, of how our families expressed themselves—etc, etc.

Yet, don’t misinterpret that we do need to talk through things. No—we need to talk through everything.

Get used to it.

If words are not your best form of expression, then consider writing down what you need to say. More, if you—like I—am an extremely…passionate—read: hot-tempered—individual, then consider occasionally sending an email that gets ideas across better than can sometimes be conveyed through conversation.

2. Hugs.

Hugging is hugely underrated. It helps forge a feeling of closeness and it also cuts through life’s tension that gets in the way of how we feel about our partners, if we could stop time and co-exist outside of work and child-rearing.

Raising children isn’t the only reason a relationship might go through a sexless or less-sex period. Illness and long distance are other possibilities—and my relationship has gone through all of these reasons.

I’ll never forget seeing my husband, then boyfriend, as I got off the plane to visit him across the country in New Mexico. I can still feel the sensations of his strong arms as they completely enveloped me, standing in front of him. That hug meant and said more to me about his love than any words could have. His hugs still make me feel wonderful.

In other words, hug it out.

 3. Listen.

Speaking of hugs being underrated, talking is also over-rated—listening is the new best thing.

Honestly, listening involves stopping our own thought processes and authentically being present with our partner, and truly hearing and taking in their experiences of both life and our relationship through life together. This is worthy of an article by itself.

Regardless, let’s all put on our listening ears.

4. Stay present.

I’ve been with my husband since we were 14 years old. In other words, it’s easy to re-hash the past. Don’t.

Stay here.

Stay current.

Trust me, I’m horrible at this.

I have an elephant’s memory and a sensitive heart, and it’s taken me years and years—echo after me : years and years—to learn, and repetitively understand, that while yesterday’s problem might still be today’s, it’s crucial to discuss what is happening now.

This is easier said than done, both externally and internally, so my suggestion (aside from professional help for recurring problems) is to:

5. Walk the fuck away.

Walk away.

When we cannot move mentally past a conflict or regroup ourselves for our best dialogue, then we need to walk away, cool down, internally reconfigure our feelings and then express them at another moment.

In short: Walk. The. Fuck. Away.

So, in closing, parenthood is glorious.

My blunt delivery of the aforementioned facts, that life after a child’s birth is when a relationship’s true challenge begins, might not completely display this.

Because, let’s be real: parenting is when a relationship becomes hard.

This is good! (I’m being serious.) Why stick with the same person if we can’t progress together as individuals?

Parenthood will progress a relationship automatically past go. (You may or may not collect $200.)

For me, becoming a mother has been the most difficult and mundane job I’ve ever performed. This distinct dichotomy is precisely why it’s such a challenge. More, marrying this arduous work with the man who I chose to spend my life with is honestly the most difficult thing that I’ve ever attempted—and it’s also the most important.

I love my husband.

Because of this I equally think that sex should be prioritized.

It has to be squeezed in between children’s bedtimes and when you don’t feel like it; in between long days at work and long days at home.

These tips will help couples to still feel romantic after long days of childcare and work.

Life isn’t easy; maybe yours is, but mine isn’t.

My life is, however, glorious—sometimes my eyes prick with tears from the beauty of watching my baby walk for the first time, or my husband talk to me about his job as a physicist or my oldest child write her letters all by herself.

It’s the little things in life that matter.

Talking, hugging, making love, listening—this is what we need to experience and enjoy with every ounce of our souls.

And sex? It’s huge. It’s important.

But it isn’t everything, or, more accurately—it doesn’t have to be.

Photo: Flickr/The First Couple…

The post 5 Tips: Can Your Relationship Survive Without Sex? first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

I was just telling a friend that I’m more opinionated about judgmental parents than I am about parenting styles.

It seems that lately I come across two handfuls of articles a day on what to do and not do with my own children—often written by other parents who aren’t even “experts,” except for maybe in their own minds.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that every person who has ever born and raised children has experienced some form of judgment from other people—even by other non-parents.

I love how some people without kids have opinions on sleep habits and patterns. I love, even more, how people who have kids—and thus should know better—think that because their style works with one or two children, that it would benefit everyone.

And, yes, there is research and, yes, there are good “rules of thumb,” but as an identical twin who is very different from my sister, I can vouch for the reality that, truly, no two people are alike.

Take my newborn and her four-year-old sister.

When my eldest daughter was a baby, my go-to solutions were the same two things: car rides and my breasts. Yet, for my current infant, these two things are exactly what she seemingly cannot stand. (I know—a baby who doesn’t think nursing is life’s solution to everything?!) But it’s true. On top of this, I swear my new baby cries when she is merely shown her car seat—she loathes the thing that much.

And this is also what makes parenting so much fun.

It’s thrilling to have another child and have it be a completely new experience. The traits and glimmers of older siblings that are witnessed are special too, but, for me at least, it’s been shocking to see just how different two people born from the same parents and raised in the same household can be.

I minored in sociology in college. I spent a good deal of time studying the sociology of family. Much of my writing displays my intense fascination with people, with our relationships with one another, as well as with how we fundamentally fit into our societies—and how different societies can be. Possibly it’s this same awareness and curiosity that make it nearly impossible for me to understand those who are ignorant enough to neglect seeing that all people are not exactly the same.

We spend so much time—and often rightly so—focusing on how we are the same, that we can forget to both celebrate and recognize where we are different—and that’s another thing that’s repeatedly popped up in my own parenting.

My oldest daughter, for example, is much like my husband. Actually, there were many characteristics in the over-20 years that I’ve known him that I’ve assumed are “guy things”—until I had my first daughter. Because they are so much alike it’s equally eerie and awesome.

This said, emotionally she seems to be much more like him too.

In other words, I consciously choose to try to understand how she reacts in a situation, be it stress or jealousy, because our reactions are not innately the same. It’s also my thinking that if I assumed she had the same emotional reactions to a situation as I do, and raised her within the confines of my own experiences and feelings, that I would, unfairly, not give her the chance to grow and thrive in her own true nature. So I choose to recognize our differences and then see where we can benefit each other.

More, this is how I find healthy relationships to work in general.

I’ve been with my husband, as I’ve stated, for over 20 years. Part of the reason that our relationship functions so well is because we don’t expect ourselves to be the same. (Which, frankly, would be impossible as we potentially define “opposites attract.”)

Still, we, as a society, often understand that relationships with spouses and partners take work, but we don’t as easily honor that all relationships take work.

Like yesterday, when I took my daughter out for our first day without the baby. It was a big deal.

One of the things that I took her to do was buy a new pair of shoes. (She loves shoes like many other children love toys.)

To put it mildly, the sales lady was not that kind. I know it was a Saturday and maybe she didn’t feel well or something, but, come on, when a cute kid is trying to smile excitedly in your face about a new pair of shoes, could you simply feign excitement in return?

And I had many options for how I reacted back to her casual indifference to my cute kid, as well as to her snotty and completely unnecessary comments to me. The route I selected was to totally ignore her rudeness and, instead, try to make this experience a special and memorable one for my child. (Which I think worked, since she wanted to sleep in those shoes.) Still, it occasionally took effort to have this reaction.

And we, collectively, have the choice to see other parents and households function differently from our own and then either shame or judge our differences or respect that what works well for one family might not work for another.

Now I’m not offering that we ignore safety or that we don’t even believe our ways to be better for us, but I am implying that we need to practice restraint from judging other parents as freely as it seems many people find acceptable.

Because maybe you wouldn’t let your kid watch an hour of television shows in the middle of the afternoon, but maybe you also don’t have a screaming baby you are trying to keep your older child from having to deal with.

Maybe you didn’t get a total of four hours of sleep when your body really needed eight (for several days in a row). Maybe you have family that lives close by and can’t even comprehend not ever having help.

The bottom line is that no two households are alike.

Even my four year old—raised by the same two parents—is not technically being raised in the same environment. No, my husband and I have evolved as people over the last four years and the Jennifer of her birth is not the same as the Jennifer of her sister’s.

So the next time we’re sitting next to another parent holding her child, watching her do something that we would “never” do, remember this: just because we would never do that doesn’t mean we’re right. Further, being right isn’t always that great.

No, what’s great is being surrounded by varying personalities and likes and dislikes and remembering that even though we both have feet, our shoes might look drastically different.

My daughter didn’t sleep in her shoes last night. It took me three tries to get them off. This morning, when she woke up, one of the first things that she did was put her shoes back on.

I think, to her, they are a symbol of how much her mother loves her and how special she is, despite having a new baby sister, and, when I look at her new-shoe-clad feet, I see a little girl with a bright personality who needs me to create days that are just the two of us—because we all need reminding that we are special.

We all need to know that our uniqueness is amazing and, even more importantly, that we are unique.

And we are—thank goodness.

Photos: Author’s own; Flickr/Travis Swan.

The post Walking in Her Shoes: Why Different Parenting Styles Is Something to Celebrate. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

I’m sitting here writing this with a baby nursing in my lap.

I am no stranger to exposed breasts.

I am no stranger, either, to the excitement and curiosity of new people and places and of moving, traveling and living life how I choose rather than according to an arbitrary rule book.

I support equality (and, thus, gay marriage and choosing no marriage or children regardless of mate preference, for that matter).

I’m, in many ways, a rebel at heart.

I’ve not shaved my legs or armpits, dabbled in social taboos and, most generally speaking, don’t mind making noise.

However, one thing I’ve learned through my experimentation is that making noise for the sole purpose of making it is not a grown-up thing to do. I’ve also learned that part of being good at being a grown-up is to realize that I’ll never quite be grown and to find both the humility as well as the joy within that reality.

I’m sitting here with a baby upon my lap, nibbling at my breast. My husband and daughter are in the other room, folding laundry.

I’ve chosen, obviously, marriage and “two kids” and living in a house and cooking dinner most nights of the week.

I’ve chosen, too, the laundry being stacked in the same piles on the same shelves and the toys and books stored and stashed in nearly the same spots each night.

For example, this chair sits in the same little corner of my kitchen, right next to the oven. This chair was my Nana’s.

This golden shawl is from my sister.

This diaper bag was lovingly crafted by an artist friend.

All of these things were, for a time, anally cared for and protected before becoming familiar and still cared for, but also treated with less controlling caution. Frankly, they are now loved and routinely normal, though still special.

But that’s how life is: routine and normal and wonderful, with bursts of new and snazzy and different. And despite the familiar and known being occasionally taken for granted or having a different kind of sparkle—one that has nicks and snags and wrinkles—it’s precisely this pure joy and to-the-bone-marrow love that make me truly happy and filled with life.

I’ll always choose old jeans, my twenty-year relationship and the daily grind of parenthood over anything else.

I’ll choose the mailbox that mostly contains bills, the yoga practices in the same tiny room in the back hallway of my house, and the sweater that smells just a touch because I’ve worn it three days in a row.

And there may be times when I want to fly away from it all.

There may be moments when I want to run wildly down a beach I’ve never dug my toes into, or instances when the burdens of my “traditional” choices seem both overwhelming and underwhelming simultaneously.

But, this brings me to the most important thing I’ve learned so far: life has, for each of us, a different calling and thrill and my most grown-up knowledge is the acute awareness that not every grown-up is anything like I, and that my own days of running wildly had me, mainly, running from myself and not into the greatest excitement of my life.

And, though not everyone wants to write with a baby nursing in her lap, I do. (Even if I’m also more than okay should my own gulping baby not, someday, choose to have her own.)

And, although a chair is just a chair, and a shawl is just a shawl, and a diaper bag is only a cloth place to put my other things, I know that, in their own ways they are symbols of many different feet standing on flat hard wood to learn how to cook, and knit hugs when my sister is across the state, and sewn transportation so that I can make new memories with my babies.

In short, I’ll take what is the mundane life to some, because, to me, there is divine brilliance there.

Photos: Author’s own.

This article was first published by elephant journal.

The post A Love Note to the Traditional Grown-up. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

His hand moves down the back of my neck.

I feel his caress linger in places that make my skin jump as his palm trails down my side.

Momentarily, I’m more inside of my body—feeling the rhythm of my heartbeat and breath—than I’m typically capable of during even my best days on my yoga mat.

I feel my breath catch when he takes his hand away from me—so that he can catch her as she’s about to fall.

I watch the steadiness come back into her own breath once she realizes that her daddy is there—by her side—making her feel safe again.

I let out the slow exhale that has temporarily stalled, both at my instant reaction to her near thud and to my own disappointment at our brief—but warm—touching.

I’m moved by his dedication to her.

I’m also reminded of when it was me who housed the majority of this attention, and I recognize that the difficulty of such a critical transition is most likely what leads to mother-daughter jealousy and unnecessary but bitter—and often subconscious—mother-daughter battles.

I’m glad that I’m not envious of my daughter.

Surely, I admire her.

I admire her easy charm and her winning smiles. I admire, too, the assertiveness with which she reminds me that I have to share this man I’ve married, and then generously gifted to her.

She lets me know that we do, indeed share him, when she comes up and wraps her arms around his neck while I’m hugging his waist.

She suggests this, also, when she climbs in between us on the couch—or, rather, up onto his lap where my head had been resting.

More, she tells me—sometimes subtly and sometimes not so subtly—that part of this bargain of the joys of motherhood—especially when mothering a female child—is to never insist on being number one or, at the very least, his only number one, when you’re parenting a daughter with a man.

A daughter whispers—albeit silently—things like this:

Dear Mom,

Yes, don’t forget that you’re his wife.

Please continue wearing pretty clothing for him and, for the love of God, change out of your yoga pants before he comes home from work.

Please kiss him, tenderly, lovingly—brazenly—but be mindful that I’m watching too.

Hold his hand when you’re walking with him or driving side-by-side in the car—but turn and smile back at me or hold my hand as well.

Be kind to him so that I know you love him—and so that I see what love should look like and what I can aim for myself.

Go out with him—be a couple—but come home to me and always kiss me goodnight.

Encourage him to be patient with me and to talk with me, even if it’s an uncomfortable subject for him to address. This helps me learn how to open up and share my thoughts and needs with others.

Be sexy and womanly. Wear things that make you feel special and sassy, but don’t degrade yourself and do things that make you uncomfortable in order to please someone else. I want to know that sex is a positive experience and something meant for me to enjoy too.

Don’t treat me like I’m your equal when I’m young. I’m not. I’m your child and I need a mommy. However, remind daddy as I grow older that I might always be his little girl, but that it’s okay for me to also be a woman. This will help me be proud of—and comfortable with—my developing body and, further, this shows me that I can lean on you when I need to (because I will).

Remember these things and, above all else, don’t forget, Mommy, that I am not you. Please try your hardest to avoid caring for me through the experiences of your own youth. I’m an individual and I want to grow intomy  best self, not yours or your ideal version of me.

On the other hand, sharing your own experiences with me let’s me know that I can share mine with you as my life unfolds.

So, Mom, help my daddy understand my wants and wishes because I need you to be on my side—but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t also be on his. Because that’s another thing.

It’s alright for you two to argue, as long as it’s civil and courteous and as long as I see you resolve it healthfully—this helps me see that I can expect bumps on a relationship’s road, but that this doesn’t mean things won’t and can’t work out. Still, I don’t want to see you fight—I’ll think it’s my fault and this hurts me more than you know. (Remember that some things should be done behind closed doors, when I can’t see.)

Thanks, Mom.

Oh—and one more thing—I love you.

Love, Your Daughter

Photo credits: Steven Depolo/Flickr; Author’s own.

This article was first published by elephant journal.

The post What Our Daughters Want Us to Know. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

“When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. And now when every new baby is born its first laugh becomes a fairy. So there ought to be one fairy for every boy or girl.”

~J.M. Barrie

From the moment you find out you’re pregnant to the instance that you hold your baby cozily in your arms for the first time, being a new mother is something that’s difficult to place into words.

Still, there are so many (unnecessary) anxiety-inducing myths about the process. Here, we’ll unmask a few.

1. You will be mortified if you poop on the delivery table.

Trust me, when you’re in labor you won’t care…at all. Please don’t spend the amount of time worrying about this that I did the first time around.

2. The pain will be unbearable.

To be fair, we all have different tolerances for pain. However, one thing that helped me get through the discomfort was remembering that it won’t last forever!

Read this for some additional tips.

3. There will be something wrong with your baby.

For one, the probability is high that your baby will be healthy (and all of those prenatal check-ups and screenings help ensure this too), but the simple reality is that if something is wrong with your baby after you give birth, worrying about it beforehand will not help.

4. You won’t be able to nurse.

I actually didn’t think this would be a problem for me—and it was.

My mother-in-law (thankfully a wonderful lactation consultant) and I worked for weeks and weeks to get my daughter to latch on properly and for nursing to be an easy experience, for both my daughter and myself.

And, yes, it took work and, yes, I think I spent the first month or so topless in my house, but it was worth it because she became a breastfeeding pro and we didn’t wean her until two years old.

(Tip: seek professional help, like that of a lactation consultant, if you have any questions and concerns—that’s what they’re there for.)

5. Sleep when the baby sleeps.

To this day, this is hands down the dumbest piece of advice I’ve heard.

The only people who will tell you this are parents who are so far removed from the process that they don’t remember why they didn’t follow it themselves. Because you will be tired and you will want to nap—and I’m not discouraging your own rest—but, for me personally, I found much more relief from fatigue by practicing yoga or exercising while my daughter napped.

6. You will be a horrible mother.

This is my own observation, but moms who worry about how good they’ll be are often the ones who really care about the job. In my opinion, this is a huge plus towards being a stellar parent.

7. Nursing is birth control.

For some, this is true. For others, not so much.  Click on the link in red above to learn more about nursing as a birth control option.

8. You will know you’re in labor.

Well, I thought I was in labor the night before I had my child, but I wasn’t positive because it was nothing like the dramatic movie scenes I’d witnessed.

I remember telling my husband things like, I might actually have to cancel my six a.m. yoga class if I still feel like this tomorrow. (A big, big deal for me then.)

Yet I wasn’t sure I was in labor—until my water broke. Honestly, though, I wouldn’t have done anything differently. I put my feet up and drank water. I went to bed early and then took a shower and packed my hospital bag after my water did break.

Point: know the lesser labor symptoms, like upset stomach or diarrhea.

9. You won’t make it to the hospital.

I personally wasn’t afraid of this, but many expectant mothers are.

You are almost guaranteed to make it to the hospital. I actually had a very short labor and delivery and I still made it to the hospital.

Having said that, I wanted to be at home as long as I could. I had no desire to be one of those mothers hanging out in the birthing center before I needed to. One thing that I decided to do in order to help myself relax at home was create a list of things for my hospital bag and then, after my water broke, I slowly packed my bag while checking items off. If you find that you’re overly concerned about making it to the hospital, prepare your luggage in advance and call your doctor at any signs of impending labor.

10. You’ll spend a fortune on maternity clothes.

Okay, maybe you will and maybe you want to. Me? I didn’t want to. Tunic tops, loose dresses and leggings are all great options (and wonderfully comfy clothing choices for after the birth too).

11. You need all the crap on the Babies ‘R’ Us register.

Repeat after me: No. You. Don’t.

Not shockingly, the lists of things you’ll need handed out in baby stores where you can register for gift items are…trying to sell you stuff!

Obviously, you will need new baby items, and these things will vary from mother to mother and from baby to baby as well, but here’s my advice: if you don’t think you’ll need it, skip it. (You can always purchase it later.)

12. Pregnant sex is weird.

I recently read a story about a celebrity saying that her husband thinks pregnancy sex is “weird.” It made me furious! Maybe some men are like this, but surely not all men. Feeling sexy and desirable during pregnancy not only encourages you to love your gorgeous, voluptuous body, but having sex is a natural and positive experience for expecting couples to share. If your spouse does have concerns, talk about them openly.

13. Sex induces labor.

Exercise and walking are commonly thought of as the go-to labor inducing act, but guess what? Sex is better.

This is all thanks to the effects of prostaglandins and Oxytocin, both necessities of labor.

14. Your vagina will permanently change.

Oh, how I wish someone had been blunt with me about this one.

Absolutely expect your vagina to be stretched, sore and just plain weird after a vaginal birth—but also expect these dramatic changes to not last. Remember, your entire body is made to stretch and expand for your baby’s birth.

My personal favorite analogy: are men afraid of having their penises permanently affected by erections?

Regardless, if you want to help ensure your pre-baby vaginal state, then do your Kegels, both before and after having your baby.

So there you have it, a few myths and fears debunked and squelched.

Do you, or did you, have any concerns about your labor, delivery or early parenthood experiences? Share them in the comments section below.

Photo: gabi menashe/Flickr.

This article was first published by elephant journal.

The post Debunking 14 Labor, Delivery & Early Parenthood Myths & Fears. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

Her heart spills sunshine from every nook and cranny.

She is the epitome of love—the fabled girl with a golden heart, filled with beauty and, more importantly, a well of true kindness.

She sings from her soul, as she creates different shapes and story gestures with her tiny hands—making diamonds with her index fingers and thumbs; opening and closing her tiny fists for stars.

She breathes beauty—seeing the best in people and the world—and she exhales joy and verve.

Her smile makes my heart stop and her gracious, grinning eyes make my own water. She stares deeply into anther person’s face, sometimes grasping it between two small palms, and she observes the souls of others as some people do wrinkles and make-up.

I’ve witnessed the judgment already present in other kids of her age and, in her, I see none. She’s thoughtful and serious—at times, I can see her depth of thought written on her lowered eyebrows and her gently puckered mouth—but it’s not with the same needless—and thoughtless—discrimination that is so easily witnessed in humanity of all ages.

She reaches for my hand and pulls me towards her. I kneel down to hug her and she softly kisses my lips. And then she looks at me and smiles and she’s off playing again—she has no idea of the love that she has swelled within my fragile mother’s breast.

Tears trickle down my cheeks.

I think of how much I would pray, if I believed in genuflecting for what we want instead of for simple gratitude, for her to grow healthfully and happily while remaining so humanly honest and sweet-natured.

Life brings all people sorrows and challenges, but, as my husband reminded me last night, the biggest liability is a bad attitude, and that, I can’t see her possessing.

How gorgeous the world would be if I saw it through her tender but curious eyes.

And it’s not childhood—I remember being a child, and I was not this way.

And it’s not lack of trials—she’s already had her fair share.

And it’s not my good parenting—this is inherent within her being.

But I will go on loving this soft soul that’s been so generously lent to me while I’m here. I will continue helping her thrive in all the ways that a mother is able.

More, I will benefit from the affectionate generosity that’s been gifted to me in my own life, in the form of a cherubic little girl, for the rest of my days because one secret of parenthood, perhaps not so well kept:

They will always be our babies.

Photos: Author’s own.

The post She Will Always Be My Baby. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.