Daddy, remember all the times I came running to you when I got hurt? I called for you when I needed help getting up. Remember when I would follow you around like a little duckling? I would walk right behind you when you cut the grass. I was always outside with you by your side when you worked on the cars. I was out "helping" you all the time. I wanted to be just like you when I grew up. And I know you said you wanted me to be better than you, but to me you were and still are the best man I have ever met.

Living in Belgium, my mom and dad had never seen an ostrich. They had seen such a bird on television, of course, but they had never seen a real live one.

As a mom everyone has a challenging morning, which is why most moms have a morning routine. I wonder what is your most favorite part of your morning routine and what's you're most challenging part of your morning routine?? My favorite part of my mommy and baby morning routine, has to be when baby takes a nap after her bath. When she falls asleep I can actually care for myself from head to toe. I can also get anything that needs to be done out of the way because as you know being a mom you really won't have time to get things done while baby's awake. While baby's up they need to be fed, played with, massaged, changed and more, the list goes on. The most challenging part for me I'd have to say is cleaning up, this is because cleaning up my home thoroughly takes time. My daughter is usually almost always up at that time, when she's up I care for her till her next nap to resume cleaning. If she takes a short nap which she does sometimes, I resume cleaning like 10 times in that day. I think all mommy's are super moms because at the end of the day we take care of our mini me's and get things done. I can't imagine my days without a morning routine.

It was a bitlingly crisp, grey-tinted day on the South Coast of New South Wales - a welcome reprieve from crimson skies, glowing embers and fog-like smoke swirling around our lungs.

A triathlon, like fatherhood, is a multiple-stage event. It involves the completion of three continuous and sequential endurance disciplines of which swimming is just one of them. It's one of my favourite examples that draw parallels to becoming a father, because, like triathletes, us fathers will have to go through multiple-stage events throughout our children’s life (New babies, toddlers, adolescent teens and then adulthood). What are the 3 stages I hear you pondering! Well! The stages (or the Legs) of a Triathlon start with the "hardest" event first; Swimming then it goes on to the cycling event and then finally the running stage.

From the moment we pee on a stick and find out the reason we are so moody and bloated, is because a tiny little human has started to form in our womb, we begin to think about the kind of parent we want to be. There is nothing more personal than parenting…

For many women, and I know for me, finding out you are pregnant comes with an onslaught of thoughts shortly after seeing that little red line. Many questions come to mind. How will my life change when this baby is born? Am I ready to become a parent? Will I have a boy or a girl? Is labor really as painful as it is made out to be on TV? Among all of these questions, one that lingers and continues to become more and more of a question an expectant mother wants to figure out an answer to is: Should I continue working or become a stay at home mom?

Divorce affects every child differently. However, all children of divorce do best when both parents stay actively involved in their lives. This continuing connection makes a positive difference for children of all ages—even teens—minimizing the fact that their parents no longer live together.

According to the every-now-and-then reminder notice from Facebook (also known as Memories), it's been six years since I took Alex to a celebratory lunch after we attended his graduation ceremony for promoting from Tevis Junior High School to Stockdale High School. I was so proud of him, and it was some rare quality time he and I would share that became less and less common as he got older, and I moved farther away.

How can this be? I know I am a woman at heart, but am a father... of four boys, nonetheless. As if raising four boys to become amazing men wasn’t full of its own challenges. Throw my being transgender and it’s quite an adventure. How lucky am I though to be a parent of blood borne children! I am so blessed!

I'm a bookworm...

Had a meeting with social workers in MK yesterday. I Was informed that many homes they visit around MK they witness that parents are SCARED of their children. I was praised for the way I parent my own & also look out for others in the community. It disheartened me to think this is the reality a lot of parents are suffering. And it’s the reality that this is the control that youths of today have gained & the very reason we live in chaos. I do not judge any mother who is in this position but I would love To help if i can. I feel as parents we need to keep the community spirit alive. The services are reluctant as of what they can do. And parents left isolated to feel alone. WHEN I was in this position living this journey, I felt like I was living under a pressurised jar, balancing being a mum & trying to manage my thoughts & anxieties regarding my son was an incredible feeling. At times I felt like I could totally lose it, but why would I wanna “lose it” when I’m fighting with a passion to win.

"He fucking kicked me." As I held our, at the time, 6-month-old daughter, my brain struggled to comprehend what the actual fuck was going on. October 7th, 2019 was the beginning to the end of my relationship with my daughter’s narcissistic, substance-abusing father. I met him at work. He was married at the time and I was about 4-months single after a 5-year relationship. Oh, how my demons loved his demons. Somehow everyone around me noticed that I had “Daddy issues” but not me. No, I thought I was a valiant warrior of love, that I was going to show this broken man by my example what love looks like, acts like, feels like. What. An. Idiot. My therapist tells me to “have some Grace” so I shouldn’t say that. Rather, what was I thinking?

Sarah Friedman scowled as rain pitter pattered menacingly outside her bedroom window. It was the last day of summer vacation and this was just not the way she had envisioned spending her final hours of freedom before entering the eighth grade. Sarah pressed her forehead on the glass and peered out, brooding over the fact that she would have to spend the day inside. As she gazed out through upturned hazel eyes, the phone began to chime but Sarah was in no mood to pick it up. Mind you, it must have only been about ten feet away from where she was hunched over, in her ball of teenage self-pity. Assuming it was nobody important, Sarah rested her head on the window and let out an annoyed sigh.

My little girl struggles with her social skills. She is two years old and isn’t talking. We are waiting for an appointment, for speech therapy. Three months ago she was diagnosed with Autistic Spectrum Disorder. (ASD)

Knowing when to get help for yourself is hard. Especially when you have to be superwoman everyday. But as a mother, knowing when to get help for your child, is and even harder pill to swallow.

My aunt is very aggravating. For the sake of privacy (not that I'm sure she will ever read this, but still), I'm going to call her "Becky." Everyone has a Becky in their life. As I go on to describe the defining features of a Becky, I'm sure you'll be to pick out which family member or friend is your Becky.

When Ruthie Ann was halfway out the birth canal, the doctor told Brenda to take a deep breath and prepare to push. When she did, Ruthie’s fragile, premature, little body slipped back into the birth canal, depriving her of precious oxygen for 45 seconds. In a panic, the doctor reached inside and pulled Ruthie into the world. It seemed as though the physician made a horrible mistake, which would ultimately lead to Ruth Ann’s physical disability, later diagnosed as Cerebral Palsy. However, because I am from the non-physical world and understand things from a higher perspective, I will tell you that this event was no accident caused by a doctor. In actuality, this act was the fulfillment of Ruthie’s own spiritual destiny. In a spiritual sense, she already knew the difficulties she was about to encounter in this lifetime. In a moment, her spirit hesitated as she tried to retreat to the warmth and comfort of her mother’s womb just one second before she was fully present in the physical world. It was in that second Ruthie questioned her resolve to fulfill her destiny. She did not feel ready to endure such hardships in the life that lay ahead. Understandably she tried to escape the difficulties that she would face by retreating back into her mother’s womb.

Yes, that’s what she was called. I don’t know if I ever remembered her given name. But Aunt Mute it was.

It was a warm Wednesday Summer’s Eve in Asbury Park, everyone was content. The Tourists were out enjoying the local shops and restaurants along with the young adults from the next town over who are home from College to visit their family and friends; they are from a prominent community mostly Doctors, Lawyers and Business people. They usually never had to face hardship, they had enough money and political power to be able to make any inconvenience disappear so they can enjoy the good times their families embrace. It was the perfect place to come from and to raise a family, this brings us to our proud heroine Jackie.

I was 12 years old when I ran away from home, at first, finding refuge at homes where I befriended older people locally and, eventually, hitchhiking across the United States for nearly 2 years. I remember the moment I chose to leave. It felt like a do or die situation and I often ponder what my life would be like had I not made the decision to leave. I know now that Everything Happens For A Reason!!!

9:00 AM. I wake up from the voice outside my room, “Raani, bring two more slices of bread in the dining area”



Do you think true love is real? Do you think someone could really stay with someone else forever, through all the bad and scary times? I never thought it could be true until I witnessed it with my own eyes. My grandparents have been married for 50 years. They are the cutest couple you will ever see. Their age doesn’t stop their love. They still take care of each other. They still want to make memories. Recently though we have not been able to go anywhere with them. My grandpa has been in and out of the hospital with pneumonia. That whole time my grandma stood by his side wherever he went and no matter what. As time went on he started to recover after days in the hospital. He finally gets to go home. A few weeks go by and we are starting to plan a small vacation for everyone to go on. My grandmas favorite place, the beach. She was so excited to get out of the house and be with her whole family. A couple years ago my grandma had taken in a stray cat that we had found on the side of the road. He was a very young and sick kitten. Had a bunch of bugs. After we had cleaned him up and gotten rid of his bugs she took him home and called him ki-ki. Like kitty kitty. She felt like she was always alone without a pet. She loved him. But of course, my grandpa was not a fan. Most men never at first. Eventually he came around like everyone else. The kitten didn’t like being indoors so he had to be an outdoor cat mostly. My grandma felt alone yet again. Now she is talking about getting a dog since they are known to get attached to their owners more. Weeks of us all talking and seeing if we should get her one, my uncle finds someone who is giving away chihuahua puppies. Without hesitation, he gets one for her and brings the little puppy home. She loved the little baby and he already loved her. He followed her everywhere. He was one of the tiniest puppies I have ever seen. We are all happy that she is happy again until one night my mom gets a call. You know it’s never good if it is at night. It’s my aunt telling us that my grandma had fallen down her stairs and broke her hip and was unconscious. We found out that her puppy has walked right underneath her and she tripped so she did not step on him. We were all freaking out hoping she was okay. We raced over to the hospital and waited for good news. My grandpa never left her side until he was no longer able to. Hours go by and we finally get the good news. She’s out of surgery. My grandpa rushes to her room and sits right next to her and without hesitation takes her hand and comforts her. Watching them together seeing how much they both cared for each other just hit me so hard. I was in photography class so I thought I could do something sweet with the situation. That’s when I took the first picture of them together. I eventually edited it over the days and it turned out perfect! After she recovered I surprised them both for Mother’s Day with the picture framed of them holding hands. It made her cry which made me cry. I will never forget this picture. It hits me so hard. I hope when I’m married my relationship is just like theirs. They have actually found their own true love, forever.

During my childhood visitors to my grandmother’s home often wouldn’t stop at the front door. Instead they would head straight for the side gate that led to her back yard and grab hold to the opening latch. There they would fall silent and still as they carefully surveyed the area. Only the untrained visitor or the most foolish friends entered Nana’s back yard unannounced. Nana was known to have the near bipolar quality of being loving and generous to her friends and neighbors in one instant yet ready in the next to run them through with various garden implements if they infringed on the boundaries of her property. In particular, visitors to the back yard were seen as possible spies come to steal her gardening genius. This behavior was especially perplexing to new friends who no doubt had been told at some point and time to “Stop by and see my old piece of garden”, by none other than Nana herself.

Daddy, remember all the times I came running to you when I got hurt? I called for you when I needed help getting up. Remember when I would follow you around like a little duckling? I would walk right behind you when you cut the grass. I was always outside with you by your side when you worked on the cars. I was out "helping" you all the time. I wanted to be just like you when I grew up. And I know you said you wanted me to be better than you, but to me you were and still are the best man I have ever met.

To be quite frank, time is a bit of a strange concept when it comes to losing a loved one. Especially when they meant the universe to you & to so many others out there in the world. Time becomes irrelevant, days turn into months and so on. What I find most relevant in this circumstance are a few things, gratitude being one of them. Then there is the need to be present in this moment. If there was anything my Mum tried to teach me repeatedly was to be present in this moment, because this moment is all we are ever going to have.

Carrying each strand of thread from one end of the table to the other, I begin warping the loom, wrapping each loop onto the wooden peg. My studio, quiet today, feels less bright somehow—colors of various yarns muted and joyless. Maybe the overcast sky is to blame.

A triathlon, like fatherhood, is a multiple-stage event. It involves the completion of three continuous and sequential endurance disciplines of which swimming is just one of them. It's one of my favourite examples that draw parallels to becoming a father, because, like triathletes, us fathers will have to go through multiple-stage events throughout our children’s life (New babies, toddlers, adolescent teens and then adulthood). What are the 3 stages I hear you pondering! Well! The stages (or the Legs) of a Triathlon start with the "hardest" event first; Swimming then it goes on to the cycling event and then finally the running stage.

Building strong connections with trusted adults can give kids a sense of security and a better foundation for achieving their potential. Make spending time together a priority with these engaging activity ideas that allow the whole family to get in on the fun.

According to a study by Money Magazine, 70% of couples fight about money and those who fight once a week about money are 30% more likely to get divorced than couples who fight once a month. This study highlights the importance of sorting out your finances before tying the knot.

It was a bitlingly crisp, grey-tinted day on the South Coast of New South Wales - a welcome reprieve from crimson skies, glowing embers and fog-like smoke swirling around our lungs.

As a survivor of extreme sexual, physical and emotional abuse as a child, I allowed what was happening to me to affect me as a teenager and then as an adult. I developed low self-esteem, anger issues and anorexia that almost killed me. I had no one advocate for me after I told my mother what was happening at the hands of her own brother. Her response was I must have been a child abuser in a previous life and I was getting my karma paid back to me for doing that. She did NOTHING to her brother. She actually embraced him. She forced me to endure family get-together's with her brother, I was not allowed to have a voice or an opinion or a childhood. He was sexually abusing my sister and my cousin too but I received the worst from him because I was the fighter. I would kick him and punch him when he touched me. He threatened to kill me several times if I told. He even went so far as to put dead animals in my lunch box to "show me" what he would do to me if I told. He would chase me with running chainsaws like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre character. To this day, hearing a chainsaw gives me anxiety. I finally got away from the sexual abuse when one of the twelve husbands my mother had was transferred out of the country for a government job when I was 13 years old. I had endured torturous abuse from the age of 4 to 13. I could not get over what happened to me and I could not forgive my mother for allowing it to go on as long as it did and doing nothing and not protecting me.

Big Girl

CHAPTER 1)

It’s taken me fifty eight years to write this story.

As a mom everyone has a challenging morning, which is why most moms have a morning routine. I wonder what is your most favorite part of your morning routine and what's you're most challenging part of your morning routine?? My favorite part of my mommy and baby morning routine, has to be when baby takes a nap after her bath. When she falls asleep I can actually care for myself from head to toe. I can also get anything that needs to be done out of the way because as you know being a mom you really won't have time to get things done while baby's awake. While baby's up they need to be fed, played with, massaged, changed and more, the list goes on. The most challenging part for me I'd have to say is cleaning up, this is because cleaning up my home thoroughly takes time. My daughter is usually almost always up at that time, when she's up I care for her till her next nap to resume cleaning. If she takes a short nap which she does sometimes, I resume cleaning like 10 times in that day. I think all mommy's are super moms because at the end of the day we take care of our mini me's and get things done. I can't imagine my days without a morning routine.

The photo I pick is of my mother. We are at Ihop for breakfast and while waiting for our food, she had gazed outside the window for several minutes and was daydreaming about something or maybe someone. At that moment, I had to discreetly take a picture of her in that moment of wonder, like a time capsule of her. I love this picture because it was a natural juncture of my mother in deep thought, which I rarely get to see because I live across the country and when I do see her and spend time with her, she is mostly moving around doing something or cooking most of the time and spending time with her grandchildren. At that instant, she was taking the time to herself and to think about something was it life; her past, present or future or even her loved ones. In the photo, is she happy, sad or just content with life? When looking at my mother, at the instance it reminds me of how valuable our loved ones are to us and every minute we have with them is a blessing to have with them since we don't know when our last day will be with them. So every day I say or text, ”I love you” to her. To my husband and kids, I give them a kiss and say ”I love you”, at night before going to bed I give them hugs, kisses and say ”I love you.”

It began on a warm summer morning, the breeze blowing through our living room window cooled the dark cavern we tried to keep below 90 degrees. Mom was nine months pregnant with my sister and I was so in love with her. I spent every moment I could with my little head pressed against mom’s bulging belly, listening to my sister swish and swirl. Her feet pushed again my tiny ear and cheek as she grew too big for her surroundings. Even though my mom was visibly uncomfortable, she never told me to leave. She would brush my long brunette curls with her fingers gently down my back as I laid there.

Brother, I'm sure this means very little to you at this point. I crossed lines and burnt a bridge. A bridge that is very important to me. However, I must apologize. Apologize: a word that doesn't even come close to what I want to give you. What I owe you. I love and appreciate you more thank you will ever know. You're the hero. The true definition of a man in these wicked days. You have given me so much. You were there for me. I look up to you. Since my very first memories of you, I've looked up to you. For me to throw things away like I did was not only childish and disgusting, but sad and pathetic. An outburst for the ages.