mommy blogs

"I thought I was worn out before I had children. Then I had children."
I should start by saying that I haven't actually been banned from Chick-fil-A.  Yet.  I do predict, however, that it is only
There are 4 million mom bloggers in North America alone, but you know what? Most of them are failing. And you're probably one of them. Not because I'm picking on you, but because statistically, the majority of moms who blog make little to no income from their blogs month after month.
About 15 years ago, when blogging was just a beginning trend, people used to stumble upon a blog, love what's written on
Molly D. Campbell is the author of the debut novel, Keep the Ends Loose, about a fifteen year old's journey when a family secret threatens to destroy her family. A wry tale told from Mandy Heath's point of view, it is a coming of age novel for both teens and adults. We spoke about writing from a young adult point of view, what it means to be a family, and how to be funny with writing.
If you were to believe some reactions, all women who become mothers are doomed to live the rest of their sad little lives, fat, hairy and exhausted. That is, if you're doing a "good" job. And apparently it is other moms who determine what "good" really is.
I love being a mom of boys and I know people aren't trying to be mean, so these kind of comments don't normally bother me. But the remarks aren't exactly encouraging or uplifting either.
This virtual village is far and wide -- populated by parents all over the world, with all kinds of circumstances. We have the opportunity like never before to learn and share and adjust and improve... if only we could stop burning it down.
I'm sitting at Starbucks. It's 7:05 p.m.. I have a notebook with me. I have doubts about trying to record my thoughts here, in this way, but I've seen so many people do it, that I am willing to give it a go.
Bloggers be like mason jars, cheese boards, standing mirror selfies, latte art, pumpkin patches, striped straws, sun-streaked shots, party props. I present a Valentine to my fellow bloggers.
We don't have to be perfect moms. There's no such thing. And, ironically, even if there was, I don't think we'd like being her as much as we think we would. No one actually likes a perfect woman, anyway.
Motherhood is an overload of emotions. We always have mixed feelings and are never satisfied with one. Sometimes I'm happy and angry. I never thought that was possible until I started having sleepless nights.
We moms are handling the hardest job in the world: raising children. The challenges we face day to day are hard enough without being judged by other moms. And this is what these judging mommy blogs and social posts are all about -- the need to feel superior and show people how perfect you are and how imperfect everyone else is.
Every time I see a young mom with toddler in one hand, gazing at her cell phone in the other, I want to rush over and remind her that everything that child is learning about human interaction she is teaching him right then and there.
Instead of seeing in the moms I encountered potential allies and maybe even friends, I chose to judge them. A lone wolf unsatisfied with my own life, I took my revenge on the other mothers who wandered into my path.
It is a look in when I am almost outside of myself. It is a room buzzing with an air conditioner on a steamy July night. It is a child unable to sleep in her bed, a husband unable to stay awake after work. A laptop on a counter top in an otherwise dark kitchen. It comes when we think it never will.
Kim's sister Kourtney also kept a "mommy blog" in 2011 when she was pregnant with her second child, Penelope. Kim and her
Parenthesis is where we collect our favorite writing from moms and dads around the web: essays, letters, rants and calls
She’s responding in part to a negative comment left on her Instagram account -- but she makes the generous point that even
When my daughter locked me out of our apartment so she could eat dog food, I wrote about it and got advice on how to start "time-outs." When I didn't have time to shave and my daughter started petting my legs and saying "Good Puppy," I wrote a funny blog post about it.