Allison Cooper

I think that before I actually became a mom, I dreamt of sick days to be filled with breakfasts in bed, handwritten notes with all the words spelled wrong, and misshapen pancakes — but the reality is far from that dream. I'm flustered just thinking about it.

I promise that 10 years from now, you won’t look back and find yourself saying “remember that amazing picture you posted of the Christmas cookies on Instagram? The one where the lighting was perfect and you had all the right red and green props in the background?” That won’t happen, ever.

Parenthood is so chaotic that we find ourselves spewing words sometimes that we probably never, ever pictured ourselves saying. Then parenthood happened.

Faux freckles. Come on. You know that you have always wanted to strategically place a little freckle and mimic what Cindy Crawford has naturally.

[CN: mention of suicide] It’s not all real. We don’t live curated lives that are built around purposeful omissions of reality...

Finding yourself doing extra loads of laundry because your toddler’s favorite T-shirt is dirty and you know there will be the mother of all meltdowns tomorrow if it’s not clean?

This little, strong-willed, giggly baby girl is attached to me in every single way imaginable. It’s gotten so bad that any time I know I need to step out of the house, I feel myself worrying about it all day long up until the very moment I leave, because I know how bad her reaction is going to be.