Allison Cooper

Most of us grow up envisioning the “perfect” family that we will have one day. One boy, one girl – 3 years apart. Right?

I got married young and had my first child young.

Who is wearing heels or even wedge booties to the bus stop in the morning? Not I! And not to mention that a heel is typically way to dressy for anything I plan to wear to the bus stop. Hit up your local Target with $50 to spend and you will return home with 2-3 pairs of simple flats that you can mix and match for comfort in the morning and a little pop of color.

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.

Family travel helped me see what I'd been missing out on.

Yes, it’s a public place, but neither myself or any movie-going patron should have to worry that they might not be able to hear what’s being said on the big screen because a baby is crying. End of story.

When I brought my son into the world, I thought that he would be an awful lot like me. He had to be, right? He grew inside me; I nourished him; I was the one home with him day in and day out during those very impressionable years, while my husband worked a grueling military schedule — yet there are few similarities to be found.