Mum’s Legacy: A Mother’s Day Poem
A Mother's Day poem for my late mother.
A Mother's Day poem for my late mother.
Breastfeeding is one of the most primal actions of a mother, a bodily function that female mammals share. It is a natural way of boosting the infant’s immunity as well as the mother’s health.
If you had told the 18-year-old version of my dad that someday he’d think babies were more interesting than football, he would have laughed his head off. But the truth is, as life pushes on, we don’t just abandon our dreams; our dreams change.
Joseph should get more than a nod at Christmas, because even for Jesus, fathers are not an accessory; they are a necessity.
"All Mothers Work" is a call to Australians — and Aussie political leaders especially — to truly value the unseen work of motherhood. Donate today to help empower Australian mothers raise their own children instead of being forced back to work before they're ready.
Birth rates across the West are plummeting, and our economies will suffer untold carnage in the years ahead — all because we have failed to assign value to the unseen work, that most important job of child-rearing. Still, we have an opportunity to turn this mess around.
Parenting toddlers is challenging at the best of times. When you are sick (not to mention when your spouse and child are sick along with you!), the challenge is multiplied by several magnitudes. But your children still need to be fed, cleaned and occupied. How do you handle this?
Parenting – and teaching – takes oodles of patience, which one is usually short of when sleep-deprived, as parents of toddlers usually are. So, how do we keep our cool and model patience to our toddlers?
When we discovered that Baby 2 was on her way, we were delighted, but also a tad concerned about how Baby 1 would react. Now, by and large, our progeny co-exist joyfully, taking delight in each other’s existence. We are careful to treat them as equally or equitably as possible.
When I was little, my father introduced me to the joy of kite-flying. He told me stories of his boyhood, when he grew up in a dilapidated, bombed-out mansion with a high tower, from which he flew his homemade kite.