When I was pregnant with my first child, I had no idea what his birth would be like; and so, like a good girl, I did my research.

I put out a challenge to Mom Group over the weekend, to post a photo of ourselves in our “maiden phases” (i.e. before we became mothers), and to write a little blurb about what that time in our lives meant to us.

The two themes we explored this week in Mom Group could be seen as diametric opposites: Sensuality, and, the unequal weight of responsibility that falls on mothers — specifically with regard to the labor of childcare and managing a home.

Before I sat down to write this piece, I had just finished cleaning up my 23-month-old daughter’s behind and her poopy diaper. It was so major of a job, it had to be performed in the tub.

If you haven't noticed, I'm figuring this all out as I go along. Every week, I see and feel NSFMG evolving and growing (in however small increments) in ways that make me feel proud of what I've created, and also in over my head.

It’s the beginning of the year, and my husband and I are attending Parent Curriculum Night at our son’s preschool. On this special night, we have the unique opportunity to visit our child’s classroom and compare his shitty artwork…

Here are your top Mom Group links to send you off into the weekend.

I was at dinner the other night with a wonderful group of women -- many of whom I was meeting for the first time -- many of us from different stages of motherhood, different ages, and different parts of the world.

Before there were apps to track your baby’s feeding, nursing, and sleep sessions – there were good, old fashioned notebooks.

A little Meryl for your Monday. The Great One once said, “Motherhood has a very humanizing effect. Everything gets reduced to essentials.”

When it comes to teaching my kids life lessons, I’m pretty sure I’m doing it a bit differently than the quotes on Instagram say I should.

Oh, shit, here it comes: Another one in your inbox. A good friend has a baby, and their well-meaning partner has the nerve to send a breathlessly typed missive straight from the hospital . . .

Most parents bemoan their inability to unglue themselves from their smartphones. I am pretty sure my children will remember me stalking the house with my fist clenched around a canister of Clorox wipes. 

In my mostly privileged, picturesque Brooklyn neighborhood, the mothers – much like the historic brownstones and tree-lined sidewalks – are very well-maintained.

It sucks to be silenced. I recently had a piece published by a well-known publication in the motherhood sphere. A few days later, without any warning, my writing was removed due to “too much backlash” against the piece.