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12 of the most heartbreaking and devastatingly sad books we read as kids.

Why some things need YOU to take care of them, alone.

It’s Saturday. I have arranged for my daughter to have a friend over. By text, Chloe’s mom and I have agreed that Chloe will come to our house at 1:00 pm.

The tricky thing about anxiety is it doesn’t present itself the same way all the time.

I assume my parents were home on weekend mornings when I was a kid, but I have no memories of it.

You don’t hear people speak openly about their lack of desire to breastfeed. They don’t want to risk the inevitable fire and brimstone that will befall them.

“I’m thirty-eight years old!” said Homer Simpson. “This is bullshit!” said I.