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Children

I was convinced I would be the ultra hip mom who let her son be whoever he was and not try to force “boyish” things on him like trucks and sports. But as it has turned out for me, boys have proven to be almost exactly like the warnings I received.

We live in a world that places such a premium on the opposite of depression — on that ever-elusive dream of happy, whatever that is — that sometimes we forget that sometimes all we need is just to be okay. Knowing that someone is there. That they will listen. That they care.

Can you think of one person that you want to be? Someone who is perfect? Perhaps someone you know? Can you think of anyone you know really well who has no issues or annoying quirks or acne? I believed in these “perfect people” when I was little, but I also believed in the Easter Bunny.

“Oh, it hurts so much when babies cry. They can not verbalize what they are feeling; maybe it’s a headache or maybe it’s nausea or maybe she is simply hungry. But who can tell exactly what it is? We can only guess.”

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