Gemma Hartley

I know it won't be long until he can read the headlines before I can bury the truth. He will learn to read, and then to suffer. Words will haunt him.

The real reason I’m worried about sending my kids to school is that I’m going to be alone. For the first time in nearly a decade. And that’s scary.

My husband and I have been together for 12 years, eight of them married, four of them teenaged.

When I made the decision to become a stay-at-home mother, the choice was an easy one.

When my son was little, I used to let him win board games a lot.

Again and again I refuse to prioritize, refuse to let anything slide, at the expense of my physical and mental health.

The insecurities about my age pushed me over the edge, making me work myself to the bone trying to be what I thought society would deem as a “good mom.” So I wish people understood that it’s never OK to comment on a mother’s age — young or old. Because the judgmental connotation is always there, no matter how innocent the intent.

I want to live my best life and, honestly, it's exhausting. Sometimes I wish I could just take a break and say I'm content with where I'm at.

Sometimes, I think back to all the ridiculous things I did for boys when I was younger and cringe.