My son Matt and I exchange a gratitude list every day. At sunrise I’m in my rocker with a mug of coffee topped with a deep layer of white foam. Wrapped in a soft pink robe and fuzzy socks, I wait for the sun to slip over the edge of the earth. As it ascends,
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My mom cooked with no directions and fancy ingredients we couldn’t afford. She liked to finish a dish with a bottle of red wine aimed at the pot and and tilted in a carefree pour. For the most part things turned out OK except when she made my school lunch. Her idea of a good
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My mother’s love was big. Rita was the parent waving wildly from the audience with a toothy smile. In high school I messed up my solo in Oklahoma when I saw her arms fanning above her head. Other parents sat patiently, palms in their laps, and looked at the stage with neutral expressions. Rita couldn’t
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I really wanted an A+ in motherhood, and I was completely devoted to the task. I read tons of parenting books and tried to do everything I learned. I’d give myself a B so far. Emma is my second child. My parenting style with her is a good example of what I thought excellent moms
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My perspective on parenting has changed over time – a lot. I learned to parent from the heart instead of the mind. I focus on my son Matt’s inherent goodness and strengths not his struggles with dyslexia or ADHD. When Matt was a toddler I obsessed about his intellectual achievement, measuring his progress against benchmarks in books for
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My son Matt was a wild boy. And in so many ways, he is my inspiration. I remember watching my two-year-old strip and jump in a park fountain. Matt lifted his head to the spray and stood in a state of pure joy as the water poured over his naked body. Next he was a
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