Parenting is hard. I’ve said it in the past. I’m saying it now. And I’m pretty confident I’ll say it many times in the future. Parenting. Is. Hard. Everyone talks about baby showers, beautiful birth stories and funny toddler tales, but no one is discussing, flatly, the difficulty associated with raising children. Why can’t we stop using our children as a measurement of how much better we are than other mothers? Why don’t we all just admit we don’t know what the hell we’re doing and meet at Chili’s for $5 margaritas to discuss strategies and support each other???

Do I ground him for this? How many fruit snacks is too many? Should she be friends with that girl? Why won’t he stop lying? At what age should they date? How many wipes should I use before I give him a bath? How much fast food is too much fast food? Why am I more uncomfortable watching love scenes than violence with them? Is cookie dough really bad for them?

At the present moment I am feeling a little anxious about choices we are making for our children and choices they are making for themselves. This isn’t a positive or negative admission. It’s just me standing in my truth.