Gemma Hartley

Gemma Hartley

Bio

Gemma Hartley is a freelance writer with a BA in writing from The University of Nevada, Reno. She is author of FED UP: Emotional Labor, Women and The Way Forward. She lives in Reno with her husband, three young kids, an awesome dog, and a terrible cat.

Gemma Hartley Articles

Ignoring rules to just get on with it already doesn't work out so well when they get older... (Image Credit: Unsplash/Zivile& Arunas)

I Wish I Had Never 'Let' My Kid Win

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

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The occasional drink helped keep my stress levels low — and ultimately it contributed to a healthier pregnancy for me. Image: WeHeartIt.

Why I Drank While I Was Pregnant

I went on to drink a small glass of wine or two per week throughout my pregnancy once I got over the initial shock of it being unplanned. Once I had adjusted to the fact that I was going to bring another baby into the world, I was still overwhelmed by the stress it brought on. I had suffered from postpartum depression after the birth of my son and we had decided not to have any more children. I didn't want the risks or the horrible anxiety that came with pregnancy. Yet here I was, facing all that uncertainty again. Damn right I needed a drink.

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Since breathing can be a subject of much controversy (at least it can be in my house), try sneaking in mindfulness under the guise of a game.

5 Tips For Practicing Mindfulness With Your Kids

But how do I go about actually practicing mindfulness with my kids when I still can’t seem to get them to find their shoes in 30 minutes or less? To be honest, it’s not always easy. However, there are a few key things that I have found really helpful in getting my kids started on the path to a more mindful life.

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Our kids define so much of our existence — shouldn't we at least take a break when we get a chance and talk about something other than them? Image: Thinkstock.

Can We Please Stop Talking About Our Kids?

I don't want motherhood to be where my life begins and ends. Sure, we can still talk about our kids, commiserate, and share in one another's parenting accomplishments — but at some point, we need to be more than mere storytellers of our children's lives.

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I felt a strong need to rise to challenges, because I knew that my dad would expect nothing less from me. Image: Thinkstock.

My Dad Wouldn't Call Himself A Feminist, But I Would.

“Feminism” wasn’t a word I heard much growing up. When I did hear it, I equated it with a historical event, not a work in progress. I thought first-wave feminism was a one-and-done deal, and that all the work necessary for women’s equality had already been accomplished.

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image credit: Thinkstock

Me, My Parents, Fox News, And A Screaming Match — Being An Adult Is Complicated

Becoming an adult didn’t magically open me up to their world and their psyche as I thought it would. Even having children of my own did little to unravel the mystery of my parents, because I wasn’t really interested in exploring honestly. I have always been concerned with who my parents were in relation to me, not who they were on their own.

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I wish I had realized there was no such thing as being too young to have mental health issues.

I Thought I Was "Too Young" For Mental Health Problems

I wish I had realized there was no such thing as being too young to have mental health issues. That there was nothing shameful about postpartum struggles.

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There is no one who would go to the same lengths to make me smile.

My Mom Will Always Be My Valentine

A breakup, Mom, a cheerleading competition, and Valentine's Day...

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I want my daughter to explore her interests and invest in herself.

I Don't Want My Daughter To Grow Up Like Me

Fortunately, when I look back at my childhood, it was mostly happy. I had parents who loved me. I had plenty of friends. I had access to food and shelter and education and more. Yet even with all my privilege, I don't want my daughter to have the same adolescence as me.

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Of COURSE I give her Vitamin D drops...

I'm The Mom Who Lies To The Pediatrician

I spent the better part of two years a frazzled mess over things that ultimately didn’t matter. My child was still growing up perfectly normal, even when he didn’t follow the straight and narrow path set forth by his pediatrician. I was driving myself over the edge for nothing.

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