If the system validated all of our choices equally, the insecurities from which these Mommy Wars are birthed wouldn’t exist. But equal validation for all is not worth anything to the people selling us solutions to our problems. After all, without problems, we wouldn't buy solutions.

Big Business and The Mommy Wars: Part Three, Conclusion

We’ve become so conditioned to expect that babies require stuff, lots and lots of stuff, that we new parents don’t often stop to take an inventory of what newborns actually need. If we did, we’d realize that matching bedroom furniture isn’t on the list.

The Big Business of the Mommy Wars: Part Two, Infant ...

What if I told you the so-called Mommy Wars are less Civil War and more The Hunger Games? As in, these wars are not “you’re wrong, I’m right, how dare you judge my lifestyle, stay out of my business” battles. No, they’re "evil overlord orchestrating systemic uprisings for profit and entertainment.”

The Big Business of the Mommy Wars: Part One, Infant ...

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Toddlers are known for screaming, “mine, mine, MINE!” while grasping a toy so tightly you’d have to take their hand off just to get it back, but there is also another side to them. My toddler has actually proven to be more generous than most adults I know (which might not actually say a lot).

7 Things My Toddler Actually Shares

Your reaction is entirely fear-based. But it's not the fear that you'll get lost in the toy department, you're afraid of what will happen if society doesn't reinforce the way you are teaching your kids to understand gender. And that tells me something super important about you and that is: You know all this gender-specific crap is all bullshit.

Boycotting Target Won’t Make Your Child’s Toys Gender-Specific

I like to tell people that I’m reconnecting with my son, but that’s not entirely true. It’s been thirteen years. We’ve both become different people. I will never reconnect with the boy I let go. He is not the boy who wanted me to tuck him in at night. He is not the boy who played with dinosaurs at my feet. He was, but not anymore; that boy is gone.

Facing the Future: Connecting with the Son I Let Go