Issue link: https://cp.revolio.com/i/855118
I adore my kids. I am also amazed that they are such marvelous adults because in retrospect, I think I was, frankly, a li le screwy in how I raised them. When I became a mom, I was determined to be the best possible mom I could be. I wanted to heal every wound that I felt I'd incurred in my own dysfunc onal childhood home by not making any of those mistakes with my own kids. I became a great mother. The BEST mother. I knocked myself out. I built my professional life around being at home with my kids. I built my personal life around my kids. I breas ed for like a hundred years (ok, only 11 years, but s ll…). I had a family for Being a Happy and Healthy Mom 5 Tips bed. I homeschooled. I home made their toys out of natural fibers. I prepared only healthy, organic foods. I made cute clothes and kni ed sweaters. I started playgroups with other naturally minded mommas. We went to museums. We built magic fairy houses outside. I tried to be present for them emo onally, physically, intellectually, spiritually, in every possible way, in every possible moment. I loved our me together. That is…most of the me. But not always. Actually, some mes I hated being a mom. Not my kids — they were awesome and I loved them every second. But I some mes hated my inner experience of being a mom. A nagging feeling of inadequacy and self-doubt o en plagued me. And being a poster child for the newly forming a achment paren ng movement didn't make it easier. I believed that a "good" mom should breas eed for years on end so when one of my kids stopped at 2 and a half, I thought maybe I had done something wrong. I believed that a family bed was the healthiest thing for kids so I persisted even when we weren't all sleeping that well. I thought my kids, needed mom there 24/7 to feel loved and secure. Abby's Magazine - Volume 5 Issue 4 | Page 13