Only And Already

By Kate Kole

“She still needs you,” my husband said as I sat at the foot of our bed holding back tears.

We had just transitioned our 4-month-old daughter from her bassinet to her crib for the first time. I was completely caught off guard by the ugly cry threatening to escape me.

I had once again entered the land of only and already that has so often marked my journey through motherhood thus far.

He’s only crawling. He’s already crawling. He’s only two. He’s already two. She’s only sleeping in her own room. She’s already sleeping in her own room.

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The Art and Sadness of “Getting Through”

By De Elizabeth

In high school, I referred to them as “Dread Days.” They were, quite simply, days that provoked the feeling of dread, for reasons entirely appropriate in a 14-year-old’s world: science lab with the girl who bullied me in elementary school, a history class presentation where I was underprepared and my crush sat in the first row, having to complete my volunteer shift at the library instead of spending an afternoon with my friends.

Initially, I only used the phrase in my head silently, but eventually started labeling them in my planner with two D’s, written as tiny as possible and in purple ink. In the days leading up to a Dread Day, I’d have a pit in my stomach, knowing that whatever fun I was having in the moment would soon be overshadowed by the knowledge that something unpleasant would take its place. On the morning of a Dread Day, I’d repeat to myself: Just get through it; just get through. When the day was over, I’d cross off the “DD” in my planner, feeling a sense of overwhelming relief.

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Are You Better Now?

By De Elizabeth

CW: The following talks about eating disorders & restricting behaviors.

The first time I heard about National Eating Disorders Awareness Week was in college; I passed a sign in the dining hall that showed a picture of a girl probably around my age holding a piece of fruit. Across the poster, in big letters: “What does an eating disorder look like?” As I methodically put things on my plate, taking twice as long than everyone else because I was terrified to eat anything at this point, I remember thinking: This, it just looks like this. 

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The Day I Lost My Chill

By Kate Kole

36 weeks + 6 days pregnant. That’s when I officially lost my chill.

It wasn’t as if things started off in an Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day kind of way. In fact, if you’d seen me just an hour earlier you might have assumed that I had it all together.

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Making The Cheerleading Squad As A Mom

By Kate Kole

You know those things that just come naturally to some people? Like running or baking or hitting a tennis ball over a net? Well, cheerleading was not that thing for me. As an awkward 13-year-old navigating middle school, I really hoped it might be my undiscovered talent. And, after a week spent learning the routines, I discovered that linking movement and words and flexibility was not (and would not be) my hidden skill. Still, I went to tryouts and gave it my all. Clumsily flopping my arms and legs in the air, following the movement of the girls around me, and yelling to “Go! Fight! Win!”

On a cold spring morning, I stood alongside my aspiring peers, anxiously awaiting a glimpse of the roster for the upcoming year. To the surprise of no one, my name was not on the list. I suppose I felt the familiar kind of disappointment that comes with failure of any type. And maybe a little embarrassment too, because I had enough self awareness to know what my high kicks looked like. But more than that, I felt relief. I could put the pompoms down forever knowing that cheering wasn’t in my wheelhouse.

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Be Away From Me

By a 3OT Guest Writer

“Be away from me” my almost-three-year-old boy shouts at me, for likely the seventh time this week. To compliment his bold declaration, he throws one small arm out straight in front him and swings it from side to side, as if indicating the exact amount of space he needs in order for me to “be away”.

Though he is good with language for his age, he obviously lacks a command of the English language, which sometimes win us some great little phrases. When he doesn’t want to snuggle before bed at night, I am told to “be off his body”. Typically my husband and I giggle about these mistakes in wording. We try to document them because we know that one day he won’t make mistakes like these. Or he will…. But it won’t be funny so much as a reason for a concerning parent teacher conference.

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Letting Us Be Us

By Kate Kole

As I’m sitting on the living room rug with my son building blocks, my mind starts running through its regular list of questions. Have we read enough books today? Does he get the socialization he needs? How many servings of fruit has he had? Vegetables? Dairy? What am I missing that I don’t even know I’m missing?

It’s not unlike the list I work through when I’m racing through the checklist of my own life. Am I setting a good example for him? Should I be working out of the house? Do I bring enough to our family? Am I doing it as well as she (mom on Instagram, mom at the grocery story, mom at the park, mom I’ve never met, and mom who is my best friend) is doing it?

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Just Wait

By Kate Kole

Last month, I passed another mom at the park. “Just wait” she muttered, shaking her head, as she trailed the three kids in front of her. With my son toddling alongside me, I smiled and thought back to the day before. A man at the mall, noticing my growing belly remarked,“you’re about to have your hands full”. I nodded as we shuffled along. 

For every cautionary tale of what’s just ahead is another of the opposite kind: The moms saying how they’d give everything to go back to the season I’m in right now. The ones who would trade graduation caps for diaper bags in a second and eagerly remind me of what’s slipping through my fingers as we speak. 

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Lean With It, Rock With It

By Kate Kole

“Unfortunately, you failed the glucose screening. We’ll need you to come in as soon as possible for the 3-hour test.”

So, here I sit, one blood draw down and an orange sugary drink guzzled, waiting for step two. (And also wondering why I couldn’t have just had a couple doughnuts and a glass of chocolate milk, but I digress).

I cried when I hung up the phone. I wasn’t even entirely sure why. Partially because I didn’t want to deal with more needles and fasting, but it was more than that. I felt like I’d done something wrong. Was it the scoop of ice cream I’d had the night before my appointment? Should I have eaten something that morning? Was I eating too much? Too little? The wrong things?

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The December I Stopped Making New Years Resolutions

By De Elizabeth

The end of the year feels like it’s supposed to be momentous. The parties, the glitter, the fancy dresses. The countdowns, the champagne toasts, the resolutions to try harder, be better, do more, next year. The reflections, the highlight reels, the top 10s. The overwhelming urge to look back, collect your thoughts, and go on to vastly improve.

In reality, the shift from December 31 to January 1 comes without fireworks. It’s soft, it’s quiet, it’s the rustling of a page turning in the dark. There’s no explosion, no flashing lights, no disco ball. There’s you on December 31. There’s you on January 1. And it’s the same you all along.

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