• Last year, my son had his first science fair project, and it felt like my responsibility, too.
• When he had to do another one this year, I wasn't thrilled.
• Our project wasn't going well, but rather than quit, I decided we'd start over and finish strong.

In the state of Florida where my son and I live, students in grades fourth through sixth are required to complete a science fair project. My son is in fifth grade this year, so he just finished his second project. After last year, I wasn't a fan of the task. In fact, I was truly dreading it this year.

Given the amount of work involved, I think it's unrealistic to expect that any 9- to 11-year-old could handle the science fair project independently. After our experience last year, I walked away thinking it was as much, if not more, my responsibility than my son's.

Throughout the entire process, I felt conflicted. I wonder if any of the other students are actually completing the steps without a lot of involvement from parents — and if the teachers are aware that's likely what's happening.

Our project didn't start off on a great foot

I suggested several experiments for my son to choose from this year because he couldn't decide what to do. He has a growing interest in music, so we settled on seeing whether plants grew better when they listened to certain kinds of music. All of his plants died before we could finish the project, and I was stressed out, to say the least.

When my husband saw how upset I was, he suggested lying about the test results. For about a week, I seriously considered it. I had already spent so much money on the plants, and to say I was over the project entirely would be an understatement. Nagging my son to play music for his plants every night after a long day of school and work was not relaxing. I didn't want to have to buy new plants and start the whole process over again.

But as I thought about fabricating the results to my son's science experiment, I wondered what I'd be teaching him. Quitting when things go wrong, skirting around actually doing the work, and outright lying were not the lessons I wanted him to learn. I began to see that the attitude I had taken toward the whole project from the beginning had been wrong.

Instead of taking the easy way out, I took the opportunity to bond with him

While I still think the science fair projects create more work for the parents than the students, I decided to change my attitude. I also began to wonder if the true point of the assignment was to get the parents more involved. Even if that isn't the case, I chose to take the task as an opportunity to bond with my son while I still can.

I realized that I could set an example for him in how to manage one's time and turn in work that is honorable. Instead of helping him lie about results to work around failure, I helped my son start over again. In the end, we both had a project to be proud of and one that was clearly a team effort. He was able to draw the conclusion that plants do, in fact, grow better with music, based on actual evidence we gathered from a properly completed experiment.

I'm still glad that next year will be the last time we have to complete a science fair project. But from having completed two together so far, I know that the best thing I can do is model a positive attitude. There are going to be lots of unpleasant tasks in life that he will have to tackle, but doing his best not to hate every moment of his to-do's and even find the silver lining in them are two lessons I'm hoping he will learn from the experience.

• I left Miami to save money living in a small Florida town while planning my move to the Northwest.
• This was meant to be temporary, but I'm still here 15 years later with no plans to leave Florida.
• I love raising my son here because of the town's laid-back vibes and access to nature.

I enjoyed living in Miami in my early 20s, but the city felt like it was becoming more and more expensive to live in.

At the time, I was working while in school full time and just barely paying my bills month to month. Unfortunately, I couldn't picture the degree I was working toward resulting in a job that paid me well enough to get me out of this cycle.

So, I decided to start saving up to move to Portland, Oregon, a city with a lower cost of living that I'd fantasized about for years because of its vibrant culture and ample access to nature.

My first step was to lower my living expenses by moving to a small Central Florida town on the Space Coast a few hours north of Miami, where the rent (and cost of living in general) was more affordable.

Although this move was supposed to be temporary, I'm still happily here 15 years later and hope to retire in a small Florida town.

Miami was fun, but I liked learning how to rest in a slower-paced town

Once, I heard a woman who had just moved to Miami say, "What's there not to like about Miami? Every day is a party!" I thought her observation was spot-on.

However, by the time I left Miami, I had grown tired of the city's lively, always-on-the-go lifestyle.

Miami has a high cost of living, but I also struggled to save money while living there because it felt like there was always somewhere to be. These activities almost always came with an added cost, whether I was paying for parking, a club entrance fee, or dinner out on the town.

Although I missed Miami's lively culture when I first moved, I grew to prefer the small-town way of life that encourages rest and time at home.

For example, at 9 p.m., many people in Miami are just heading out to dinner at one of the city's many options. In my quieter town, most restaurants aren't even open that late.

I spend more time outside than I ever did before

The longer I live on the Space Coast, the more outdoorsy I become.

I actually go to the beach more now than I ever did in Miami, where it could be a hassle. Here, the beaches don't feel nearly as crowded. I think they feel cleaner, too.

I also started hiking a lot more, as there are some great state parks and forests in Central Florida. Even in my own neighborhood, I've seen more wildlife than I ever did in Miami, including tortoises, rabbits, and deer.

One reason Portland was so alluring to me was that it seemed to have so much beautiful nature and greenery. If I hadn't moved a few hours out of Miami, I would have never discovered how much natural beauty I could experience without leaving my state.

My new town also feels more aligned with what I want for my son

Since moving to the Space Coast, I became a mom and thought more of what I wanted for my son. I wanted him to spend more time out in nature — something I only got to experience as an adult.

When he thinks of "going out," I want it to be to a beach or a hiking trail instead of the hottest new restaurant. I'd like for him to benefit from a slower way of life, one that prioritizes rest.

Our town is a great place for all of the above.

I also ended up becoming a teacher, and if I still lived in Miami on my teaching salary, I would never be able to afford the same life we live now, which includes having our own home and going on vacations.

I like that we don't have to scrape by every month.

After 15 years, I'm still loving small-town Florida life

Sometimes I still miss the buzz of Miami and its seemingly endless options for restaurants and events. I'll always consider it home, but I'm so glad I've experienced a slice of small-town Florida life.

This move was only ever meant to be temporary, but 15 years here taught me just how much Florida has to offer outside of Miami.

Now, I have no plans to move out of the state.

• I struggled with my post-baby body image, even though I lost much of the weight I had gained.
• My partner's acceptance and unconditional love helped me start to embrace my new body.
• Health issues, including a back injury, have helped me shift my focus from my weight to my strength.

After I had my son, I became consumed with trying to get my pre-baby body back. Even after losing 60 of the 80 pounds that I had gained during my pregnancy before my son turned 2, I was still unhappy with my stomach, which seemingly bulged and sagged no matter what exercise or diet I tried. I had never appreciated how flat or effortlessly toned my stomach had been before I had my son until I no longer had it.

My stomach became the source of all of my shame, and I was convinced that no one would love me with a body that looked like mine. I never dated anyone that made me feel any less self-conscious of my own perceived flaws until I met the man that eventually became my husband. By the time I met him, my son was 6. He never seemed deterred from any part of my body or not attracted to me, so one day I let him know that I felt embarrassed of my stomach. He was shocked and said he couldn't care less. Soon, I started to feel the same.

His acceptance led me to self-love and an inner truth

After that conversation, I began to feel not only more comfortable in my own skin but actually felt sexy as a whole, rather than most of my body minus my midsection. But I was still concerned with maintaining my size. My partner loving me so wholeheartedly helped me to love myself more, too. We dated for almost two years before getting married and recently celebrated our third wedding anniversary.

As I began to really embrace myself, I started to notice that I still had some unhealthy ideas around my appearance. If my clothes were ever snug, I panicked. If I missed just one workout, I felt fearful that I would backslide into weight gain. I thought I could only indulge in unhealthy foods only if I had worked out that day or knew I would the next day. I saw more clearly that my whole attitude around food and exercise was not rooted in health. My outlook was that when I wasn't thin and fit, I became a less valuable person. Once I understood my motives, I wasn't happy about thinking of myself in those terms.

New health issues suddenly made it difficult for me to exercise

While my husband's attraction to me was the first part of my journey to accepting my post-baby body, it was actually health issues that finally changed the way I felt about my body for good. I always thought I had appreciated my health, but it was a lot like the body I had before I got pregnant. I didn't really appreciate my health until it was gone.

In the midst of a sudden onset of migraines and gut issues, I would catch myself being more stressed out about gaining weight because of not being able to workout instead of focusing on just feeling better. When I finally hurt my back so badly that it became difficult even walk, I realized how much I had taken my body for granted — yet again.

It has been years now since I've been trying to feel the way I used to, which was simply capable of being an active person. My goal workout right now is simply to be able to walk a half mile around my neighborhood, which is a far cry from the running I once did.

Over the course of these unexpected health issues, I've realized that I'll never worry about being a certain weight again. My obsession has shifted from how my body is shaped to getting back to a life where I can do simple things, like make my family dinner and then sit around the table to eat with them without being in pain.

Now I could never see myself worrying about the way my body looks

I don't think it should have taken health issues for me to value my body for what it is capable of, such as growing a child and enabling me to take care of my family, but that's what it took for me to finally accept my body as is. The irony of the situation is that in having pushed myself so hard through running, intense workouts, and little to no rest, I probably created much of what I'm going through, or at least ignored important signs for too long.

I know I can't change the past, but I wish I would have been more gentle with myself after I had my son, who just turned 11, and taken a slower approach to weight loss through whole body strength. As for my stomach, I finally couldn't care less about how it looks in the mirror. My body concerns now lie solely in my actual health and function, and I am confident in saying that I'll never stress about my weight again.

• I have often cleaned up after my 11-year-old son rather than wait for him to do it.
• Though I did ask him to do his chores, I felt it was easier to do it myself.
• A back injury has forced us both to rely on him to become more independent.

For a long time, I often cleaned up after my son, who just turned 11. It's not that I didn't ask him to tidy up his own toys, make his bed, or bring his dishes to the sink, because I did. I was just too impatient or tired to nag him if it didn't get done. It just felt easier to do myself.

Sometimes I would get upset that he seemed to ignore me. I knew he was more than capable of doing these simple chores, but he just didn't seem to think what I was asking him to do was important. It was just that, as an exhausted single mom, I didn't have the energy to always ensure he followed through. It took less out of me to just handle on my own.

Without reinforcement, my son's chores didn't become habitual

A handful of times, I tried to teach him how to do slightly more complex things, like help fold the laundry or cook a simple meal for himself. We started with getting a cup of milk, then making himself a bowl of cereal, and finally, I taught him to use the stove to make scrambled eggs and pancakes. But unless I asked him to do these things for himself regularly, he wouldn't learn how to do them well enough, or would forget how to do them completely.

A recent back injury has forced me to rely on him to do the chores I once did for him out of ease and help me with things I've had trouble doing for myself. At first, I could see that it was difficult for him to have to actually do these chores in addition to having to help me more. I think he was in shock. I instantly regretted not holding him accountable all those years and letting him get away with not cleaning up after himself.

I viewed cleaning up his own toys as the baseline of his responsibilities, and he never really did that totally on his own. I always ended up compromising with him, and we'd both pick up half of his things. I didn't fully realize how much of a disservice this was to both of us until I could no longer help him.

He's now doing chores consistently out of necessity

Out of necessity, he has learned how to make his bed every morning, clean up his own room, and bring his dishes to the sink after mealtimes. I've always known it was my job to raise a good man who can take care of himself one day, but until I got hurt, I hadn't seen I could stand to improve in teaching him how to do that.

This year, I'm determined to show my son how to take care of himself and his future home by showing him how to do more of these important tasks. Though I've taught him a lot, like how to play most sports and write a solid essay, I've been overlooking other things, such as how to do a load of laundry without dyeing the white clothes pink or how to clean a bathroom properly. These are the necessities I'm going to focus on with him. Most recently, I taught him how to load the dishwasher, which felt miraculous.

I know I need to show him how to be an adult in even the most basic ways

While these chores all seem like simple things, and they are, I wouldn't have realized the importance of teaching my son how to do them himself without my injury and becoming unable to just do everything for him. Having lost the ability to take care of myself all on my own, I miss how good it feels to do things around the house the way I like having them done, make a home for my family, and take care of them in this way.

All of those chores I did for years for my son were out of love, and I want him to know how to do the same for himself and his family one day. So in a way, it's also out of love that I'm teaching him how to take care of himself.

• I was happy to take my son on our first big vacation together when he was 4.
• On our way home, we had two flights canceled, and at first, it felt like a nightmare.
• However, we were able to turn it around, and it became one of my favorite memories.

When my son was 4, I took him on our first big vacation. It was the first time we traveled out of state, and we had to take a plane to reach our destination. At the time, it was also a big deal for me to take an entire week off of work, but being able to take my son on a true vacation had long been a goal of mine.

We went to Vermont, where my family had a lakeside cabin, and spent the week hiking various trails, canoeing, visiting farmer's markets, and toasting s'mores while stargazing at night in the backyard. Being from Florida, the woods and mountain life were foreign to my son, and I was proud of finding a way to share an entirely new environment with him. Since we stayed with family and focused on free outdoor activities, my only cost for the whole trip was our airfare.

The cabin was pretty remote, which was great for really experiencing the wilderness, but it was a two-and-a-half-hour drive to the closest airport in New Hampshire. After our family dropped us off on our departure day and drove all the way back to the cabin, our late-evening flight was canceled. My initial reaction was fear.

When our late-night return flight was canceled, I was scared

While I was used to being a single mom, I was way out of my comfort zone, stranded in an airport with my young son. I spent hours in a ticket line with my mind going a mile a minute, worrying about everything from my son being up past his bedtime to how long we would be waiting for a new flight.

The airline offered us a different flight in the morning. It was unrealistic to ask our family to drive back and forth to the airport again, and I felt unsafe sleeping in the airport alone with a young child, so I pleaded for a hotel voucher. Then, after getting a shuttle to the hotel, sleeping there, eating the complimentary breakfast, and taking the shuttle back to the airport, our morning flight was also canceled.

After our flight was canceled a second time, I switched gears

This time, the airline told me they didn't have another flight until the next day, and I was able to negotiate a second hotel voucher. I looked down at my son feeling worse for him than I did myself. I decided to spend money I had no business spending on a rental car so we wouldn't have to rely on the shuttle.

I hopped on the New England freeway and found a Target, where I bought us some easy-to-prepare food and a Lego set to occupy my son that afternoon. We spent the rest of that day in the hotel room eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and apple sauce while I helped him assemble a Lego Batman and Joker battle scene.

After spending money on a car and various survival items at Target, I decided to continue making the best of our situation and took my son to the diner attached to the hotel. That one choice was when I finally had a real turning point.

At dinner, I had an unexpected transformative experience

While my hopes of the diner's quality had been supremely low, it was like walking onto a movie set, with a red and white checkered floor, red vinyl booths to match, model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, and one of those revolving cake displays filled with so many desserts that it seemed like a mirage. My son was elated, to say the least.

I let my son get whatever he wanted, including a milkshake with whipped cream and sprinkles. The server became friendly with us, bringing him a paper pilot hat, extra crayons, and paper for drawing. We became comfortable with one another and she shared that her son of the same age was at home with her mom for the night. I felt as though we could see ourselves reflected in one another, the massive amount of love we had for our sons, how much we wanted them to be happy, and the strain of time spent away from them to provide for them.

I left her a large tip and took my son to bed, comforted by knowing that I had kept us safe during a stressful event that challenged and scared me. Not only that, but by embracing the situation, I actually extended our vacation. Those 36 hours stuck in limbo turned out to be the best part of that vacation. I stayed awake that night feeling renewed and reflective. Even though I was working myself to the bone, it was worth it for now.

By the time we made it home, I felt stronger

I went home to Florida feeling more confident in my parenting ability and knowing that I would continue to find a way to make sure I could afford more of that — the privilege of being able to take some time from work to spend with my son, the emergency funds for unexpected events, and even the splurges for when they can really improve a situation.

What began as what felt like a high-stress nightmare that would never end became a valuable experience for me as a single mom, as well as one of the fondest memories I have with my son at that age.

• I chose to be a teacher to connect with and help children — the job wasn't what I expected.
• As a teacher I valued student relationships, but job evaluations focused on other metrics.
• After six years, I quit. Here's what I wish I had known before I chose this career.

I had a lot of good reasons behind deciding to become a teacher, which included job security and setting a good example for my son. But after six years of teaching junior high and high school English, I'm leaving the profession for good. It's not because I think I'm a bad teacher, but because it has taken me some time to accept that teaching just isn't right for me.

Here's what I wish I had known before choosing this career.

The part of teaching that mattered most to me was not valued

What I found most rewarding about teaching was building relationships with students, particularly the difficult ones that other people had given up on. I became a teacher to connect with those kids, because I had been one of them.

My personal barometer for success was when I realized that those difficult students were suddenly giving me a hug or coming by between classes just to see me. I knew I had gotten through to them and could help them build their confidence and see their own value in the world.

The problem with me viewing that as success was that it was not what mattered most to my supervisors. As a teacher, I was evaluated on skills like classroom management, curriculum pacing, and testing scores. While I always put the impact I knew I was making with my students' self-worth first, that was not what my job performance was evaluated on.

Teaching proved to have a poor return on investment

A few years in, I began to realize that a large part of what kept me hanging on to teaching was the sunk-cost fallacy. I had spent so much time becoming a teacher and learning how to be a good one, and I didn't want that effort to have been for nothing.

Even though teaching was taking from me more than what it was giving back, I didn't want to give up on it because of how much I had spent becoming one.

You shouldn't plan your life around your job

Not only had I spent so much of my past on teaching, but many of my future plans depended on being a teacher, too.

When my son finally makes it to middle school, I wanted to have the privilege of teaching at his school so that I could keep a watchful eye on him. Middle school is a pivotal time for a young person, and I wanted to be able to steer him in the right direction if I saw him veering down the wrong path.

When I left the profession, I was only one school year away from getting to teach at the same school that my son.

The breaks were nice on paper, but I was too burnt out to enjoy them

A major part of why I became a teacher was because I wanted to have the same schedule as my son. I also didn't want to have the added expense and stress of having to find childcare during school breaks.

I liked the idea of having secured time off throughout the year that I wouldn't even have to ask for. The problem became that I was so burnt out from a day of teaching, I felt like I could barely show up for my family at home most days. And when those breaks finally did arrive, all I wanted to do was rest, not travel.

The job made me sick — literally

Ever since my first day of teaching six years ago, I've dealt with health issues that I believe were caused by the stress that comes with teaching middle school.

The healthiest I've felt during the last six years was when we had to shut down for six months due to the pandemic. Initially, I thought I would adjust to teaching, thinking that the job would become easier in time and that I would find ways to better manage the stress. But after throwing out my back one too many times, I came to accept that the job was literally breaking my back. I felt that my body was begging me to take care of myself and make some changes.

I'm excited for my future

While my next career move is uncertain, my health is already improving.

I had always wanted a job where I could help others, and I knew I was doing that with my students. But the worse I felt teaching, the more I realized that I couldn't even help myself anymore.

Someone asked me what I would tell my son if he were in my situation, and the answer was obvious. I would have told him to quit. While it was extremely rewarding to help my students, I finally saw that I wasn't showing up for my family in the way I wanted to because the job was taking everything I had to give, including my own well-being.

It wasn't easy walking away from what I thought was going to be my life's career, but my body is already thanking me for it. No matter how scary it is that I have to start over again career-wise, I know I've made the right decision.

• I struggled to make friends with other adults when I became a mother.
• I met a woman at a workout class, and we became close, so I opened up to her.
• She decided to end our friendship, and I'm struggling to let anyone else in.

I moved to a small Florida town after growing up in Miami and have been here for over 10 years. I still find it difficult to make friends in the area — whether it's because of cultural differences or just because it's more difficult to connect to others as an adult.

But a few years ago, I met another mom after a workout class. She approached me and initiated a conversation. We immediately found that we had a lot in common. We were the same age and each had a child the same age.

I was initially skeptical of her motives. As an adult, I had never become friendly with other people my age outside work. I hadn't realized until then how much I had shut myself off from the possibility of making new friends.

Since my son was about 3 at the time, and I hadn't successfully made any other mom friends even though I had tried and wanted to when he was younger, it felt like I should let myself open up to her. I had to allow myself to trust that she was simply interested in becoming friends. When I put myself in her position, I thought it was brave of her to approach me without knowing how I would react. I admired her for that.

She became the first adult friend I ever made, but it wasn't a happy ending.

I opened up to my new friend

We became friends quickly. She wasn't shy about calling me just to talk or inviting my son and me over for visits. She was so candid that it made me feel like I could be the same as her. Soon, we weren't just acquaintances but friends who were more like family.

After living away from home for so many years, I had forgotten how nice it was to have a friend like her nearby. She listened to me when I opened up — something I rarely do.

Since all of my best friends live three hours away, I became increasingly grateful to have her in my life and so close by. I don't think long-distance friends are less true friends than the ones you can see every day, but it's definitely different. In times of need, we could literally be there for each other right away.

She wanted to end our friendship

One day, with what felt like no warning, she told me that she didn't want to talk anymore. I could tell by her tone that she had given this decision a lot of thought. She didn't give me a clear reason. Out of respect for her and maybe my own pride, I didn't try to talk her out of it. I said OK, accepting that she no longer wanted to be friends.

I was devastated.

I had endured painful friendship breakups when I was younger, but I had never been through one as an adult. Beyond college friendships and romantic relationships, I had never opened myself up to anyone as much as I had with her.

The end of our friendship felt different from the end of one with a significant other because I viewed dating with the realism that it may not last forever. When it came to friendship, I saw it as something more enduring.

I'm even more closed off than I was before

I don't regret allowing myself to be vulnerable with her. I'm glad we each opened ourselves up to each other. When I look back at everything that was going on in my life at the time, I am so thankful to have had a friend like her to count on.

But since I was already so closed off to the possibility of making any more true friends past my college years when I met her, the way our friendship ended was traumatic for me.

Since then, I have found myself talking to new people less and being much more closed off in social situations. While it's been almost five years since we stopped talking, I still miss her. I'm glad I was able to experience an adult friendship to the degree of closeness that we shared. But the way it ended has made it even more difficult for me to believe in making any more new friends as an adult.

These days, I'm working on not closing myself off completely.

• Whenever my son comes home with an invitation to a big birthday party, I'm filled with dread.
• The birthday kid can't connect with everyone, and making small talk with parents is awkward.
• I prefer our tradition of small family pizza parties.

My son is turning 11 this year, and it's the first time he has asked me if he could invite some of his friends from school to his birthday dinner. I told him that I wanted to maintain our tradition of having just our family over to celebrate his birthday, but that next year, we could plan something additional for him to do with a few of his closest friends.

However, no matter what, we'll still keep doing our traditional small family party, and I can't imagine that will change anytime soon.

My son's pizza parties have become a family tradition

Since my son was born, we have invited our close family members for a pizza party to celebrate his birthday. There ends up being about 10 of us, and since it's just family, it almost has the feel of a holiday get together. After pizza, we have cake and then he opens his presents. The entire time, my son is the center of attention, but I'm glad, because I want him to feel loved on his birthday.

Since we keep the guest list small, everyone knows each other, and my son has time to truly visit with everyone. Plus, the fact that it's the same group of people that come every year makes it more special. It feels like everyone there is partly raising him and has the privilege of getting to watch him grow up.

Even though it's not a big party, I still decorate so that it doesn't feel like just another day. Plus, because my son has a December birthday, the Christmas decor has always doubled as party decor. When my son was really little, I think he thought Christmas was for him, so the time of year has always been on my side.

While my son likes going to big parties, I do not

I am filled with dread whenever my son comes home from school with a birthday invitation. While he has fun at these parties, I do not. I have always disliked the large kids' birthday party, as I find myself wandering around and trying to supervise my son and his friends or awkwardly trying to make small talk with other parents.

These large gatherings always make me question my own decision to keep my son's parties small, so I've always paid attention to the child whose birthday it is. I have noticed that there isn't enough time for them to visit with everyone that comes and that their family members get the least of their attention.

These children want to play with their friends, just as my son would if he had a big party like that. The events remind me of my own childhood parties, which were large, or of my wedding as an adult, where the party is a whirlwind, and I'm left feeling like I missed out on seeing everyone.

I feel I've made the right decision in keeping our celebrations simple

While my son is getting older and his birthdays will change to a degree, I'm glad I've kept them small. I know he has a great time. This year when everyone left, he said he didn't want his birthday party to be over, and I knew it was because he loves to spend time with everyone that came over.

His relationship with his friends is different, so as he gets older, he can celebrate with them as well, but separately and in a different way. What I have always wanted for my son on his birthday is just for him to know he is loved, and I think the smaller, more intimate gatherings achieve that best.

When my son was little, his father and I went through a custody trial and agreed on a holiday-sharing schedule. It outlined that if my son spent a holiday with me, the following year, he would spend that same holiday with his dad. So if I got Christmas Eve and Day with him one year, the next, his father would spend those days with him.

Initially, my son's father and I stuck to the original holiday-sharing schedule. I observed that while my son never had a preference for who he spent the holidays with, he did miss the parent he didn't get to see. After a few years of splitting holidays up, I was compelled to work with his father on a better arrangement. While it doesn't always work out perfectly, we have found that it's best for our son to spend time with each of his parents on any given holiday.

We do our best to come up with a plan that works for the whole family

Our new arrangement is informal, and I think we each try to work with each other based on what's going on with our respective families that year and how we divided up the holidays the year prior. While initially we had every holiday divided up until my son turns 18, I think the way we work with each other now is far more realistic.

One downside to co-parenting around the holidays is that I always have to tell other people that I need to talk to my son's father before we make any definite plans. Sometimes, I've wished I could just book a vacation over the winter break. However, I've realized that not only does his father deserve to spend time with his son on the holiday as much as I do, I know our son prefers it that way, too.

My immediate family understands that I may not have my son for certain traditions, so they factor this in when they're making their plans. They will ask me ahead of time on which days or times I'll have my son; not only are his father and I working together to make sure my son gets to see most of his extended family, but our families do their best to work with us, too.

It doesn't always work perfectly, so there have been exceptions

There are certain holidays where the division is an easy decision, such as Thanksgiving. Growing up, I always liked watching the parade in the morning. Every year, I had an aunt who would suggest we just eat our pie for breakfast, but no one ever went through with it.

When I had my son, I had the opportunity to make our own traditions. So now, he and I make pumpkin and apple pies the night before Thanksgiving and then have some for breakfast the next morning while we watch the parade. Since his father's family has a big dinner in the afternoon, we usually just split the day in half so that my son is with me in the morning and with his dad in the afternoon.

It might not be a perfect system, as my son is missed at our family's dinner on Thanksgiving, but after co-parenting for a decade, I've come to accept that his father and I always need to work together to come up with a plan that works best for our son, even if that means dividing up every holiday. Sometimes it doesn't work out, so we've learned to address every holiday individually.

Last year, my son's father wanted to take him up to New England to spend a week with his family that lives up there, and I was hesitant. My son and I had never spent a Thanksgiving apart before. When I asked my son if he wanted to go, he was excited. Not only does he rarely get to visit with those family members, but we live in Florida, so he had never seen snow before. I made sure he understood that he and I would spend Thanksgiving apart, and while he was sad about that part, we agreed that because it was a special opportunity for him, he should go.

Our new agreement feels right

This year, his father asked for Christmas Eve since I had my son for Christmas Eve last year. Then, my son will come home Christmas morning and spend the rest of the holiday with me, which is what he did with his dad last year. While I love to have my son on Christmas Eve, it's nice when I have him on Christmas Day, too. After spending alternate years without him on either of those days, I think our way of dividing up the holidays works out so much better.

Not only do we each get to share our traditions with our son every year instead of every other year, but my son can count on spending the holidays with both of his parents. It's always a little sad for him when he is separated from one of us, and that emotion is amplified on holidays. But I think it comforts him to know that his father and I will always work together to make sure he doesn't have to spend the holidays without seeing one of his parents.

• As a single mom having another baby wasn't something that seemed possible.
• When I met my now-husband we talked about another baby, but the age gap felt too big with my son.
• Also the idea of having to start all over again with a newborn depressed me.

There were times when my son was young when I thought about what it would be like to have another child, but as a single mom, it just wasn't possible.

When I met my husband, we talked a lot about having another baby, but by the time we got married, my son was already 8 years old. That meant that even if I got pregnant right away, my son would be nearly 10 by the time I had another baby.

Having a newborn and a nearly 10-year-old boy seemed like what would be a large gap between siblings. Plus, with my son getting closer and closer to the age of 18, the thought of having to start over again with another baby was more depressing than anything else.

It felt like I was halfway to the finish line, and the thought of beginning again from square one was not appealing. The older my son got, the closer I was to being "done," and that felt like a relief.

When it came to being a mom, I was already so tired

I had been a single mom for seven years, and while I still look back fondly at that time of my life when it was just my son and I, I found motherhood to be exhausting. I sometimes wonder how I accomplished taking care of the two of us all on my own, and the only answer I come up with is survival. I can remember thinking when my son was born that I would never sleep again, and while that isn't true, I certainly never slept in late again. Even before I met my husband, I was already so burnt out.

Ultimately, my husband and I decided not to have a child together. One of the main reasons that contributed to our decision was that parenting my son was already a lot of work. While I had already parented solo for years, he had become an overnight involved stepdad. We are on the same page in that parenting is a full time job on top of our careers, so there is little to no time left for us to rest. When we aren't working outside of the home, we are at home working as parents.

My husband and I were well into our 30s by the time we found each other

There is no doubt that our age played a factor in my husband and I deciding not to have a baby together.

Since I already had a child when we started dating, he and I have never had the opportunity to experience our relationship outside of being parents. When my son graduates from high school, my husband and I will both be in our mid-40s. If we had decided to have another baby when we got married, we would each be almost 60 by the time that child graduated from high school.

While we are still relatively young, we want to experience life as a couple without kids. We want to spend our time working less and traveling more as soon as we possibly can.

Initially my husband and I leaned more towards having a baby than not

I wanted to experience having a child with a supportive partner, while I think my husband didn't want to miss out on having his own child. So I was nervous to introduce my hesitation to have another baby into our conversation about having kids. But I'm glad I was brave enough to ask him to entertain the idea of what our life would be like without having another child. Until I brought it up as an alternative, he said he hadn't really thought much about life without a baby.

I have always felt like I'm not allowed to say how much work being a mom can be. For a long time, I felt ashamed for being exhausted by parenting. I always felt that the expectation was to have more than one child. When I found my husband, many people assumed that having a baby together would be the next step, and I know he felt that expectation as well. We're both glad that we allowed ourselves to even consider not having a baby, because in thinking carefully about that, we realized that having another child wasn't what we wanted. It was what others expected of us.

Every once in a while I'll think about what it would be like to have another baby. Mostly it's when I walk by an adorable set of footie pajamas in a store or encounter a storybook that I loved reading to my son. While on one hand it does feel sad that I'll never have a baby again, I always circle back to the same conclusion, and that is that we made the right decision.

Having my son brings the fulfillment to our lives that being a parent can provide, but footie pajamas are not a strong enough reason to have another child. I am no longer ashamed to admit that I'm already too tired for a second child. While being a mom is something I'm proud of, I am also very much looking forward to the next part of my life once my son is grown.

• When I married, changing my last name to my husband's felt like too much work.
• Three years later, I still haven't changed my name and realize I don't want to.
• The tradition feels antiquated, and I don't want to erase who I am.

Before our wedding, my husband asked me if I would change my last name to his, and I said I would. I wasn't lying. I had every intention to do so.

But before I walked down the aisle, I began to think about the hassle of going down to the Social Security office, changing my name at the bank, and updating my ID on every credit card. It seemed like a lot of work I didn't want to deal with — especially after planning a wedding.

At my bachelorette lunch, I discussed with my closest girlfriends — who all happened to be married — their decisions to change their names. All but one had put no thought into their name change, saying that it was something they had looked forward to or hadn't questioned.

I felt like the outlier, and I'm still learning to be OK with that.

Changing my name for my husband feels antiquated

After the wedding, I simply viewed my name change as another to-do on my list and kept putting it off. But as time went by, I began to question why I had to change my name in the first place.

Growing up, I had never fully understood the tradition of changing your name to your husband's. In my gut, it felt more antiquated than romantic.

I decided to consider my husband's opinion and ask him how he felt about me not changing my name yet. I had no idea until I asked him that he had been wondering why I hadn't done so. When I asked him how he felt about the tradition growing up, he explained that it was something he had always imagined his wife doing. He liked the idea of his wife taking his last name.

The whole conversation made me feel like I was disappointing him by dragging my feet, which made me lean toward just going through with the name change.

I got increasingly annoyed at the idea of changing my name

Most people assumed I had changed my last name already. When they realized I hadn't, they wanted to know why. Their questions made me uncomfortable.

While most women seemed not to question the tradition, others felt free to question my decision. One person even blatantly said they could see how it would be easier for me not to change my name "if anything were to happen." I didn't like the implication that my marriage was viewed as temporary or less than because of simply not changing my last name.

The more I thought about how I felt, the more I began to view the adoption of my husband's name as removing my identity beyond my marriage. I thought taking my husband's name would negate the accomplishments I had made independently. Since I'm a teacher, my students address me by my last name, and as a writer, I have been published under that name.

Becoming someone else on paper felt like having to become someone else entirely. It also felt like I had to forget who I was before I was someone's wife.

Once I considered my feelings without considering everyone else's, I stood by my choice.

Changing my name just for other people doesn't feel right

I've considered surprising him with a name change when I feel terribly in love and want to make my husband happy. But the main problem with this is that he would know it was something I did for him and not something I really wanted to do.

While I know he'd prefer me just to change my name, I think my independence and strong will are qualities he finds attractive. Changing my name wouldn't represent my own values and, therefore, wouldn't yield the romantic result I've envisioned at times.

The pressure and judgment I feel from others reinforces that it should be my decision. Appeasing other people is not a good enough reason to do something I'm not sure I even believe in.

• I always told my son I'd never let him play tackle football. The idea of him getting hurt scares me.
• But at a birthday party recently, I saw how much he loves it — and how good he is.
• For now, we're compromising on flag football.

I have always feared the idea of my son playing tackle football. I've just heard about too many young men getting hurt playing the sport, and I've also never been a fan of the violence. I hoped he wouldn't be drawn to the sport so it wouldn't be an issue, but a few factors have led to his love of the game.

My son's father played football in high school and his stepfather is a big college football fan, so both male parental figures in his life are fans of the sport. He's heard stories about his dad playing football and has grown up watching it on TV his entire life. By the time my son was in first grade, he started asking me if he could play himself. Instead of giving him an outright no and hoping that he would lose interest in it, I just said that we could talk about it when he was older.

Since we live in an area where youth football is popular, many of his classmates and friends play in leagues for boys his age. The more friends my son made who played football outside school, the more he asked me whether he could join a league, too. Since he had the opportunity to play flag and touch football in school at recess, in PE, and during daycare after school, I told him that was plenty. But he was persistent in his request to play, so I finally had to have a real talk about why I didn't want him to; I thought tackle football was just too dangerous.

I had to tell him the truth about why I didn't want him to play football

I explained that I didn't want him to have a serious injury this young — or any age, for that matter — because of something like football. Fortunately for me, both his father and stepdad agreed with my concerns. My son was upset, but the more he saw that I wasn't going to change my mind about it, the less he asked. We had compromised on him playing in high school if that was something he still wanted to do, though I held onto hope he would grow out of it by then.

When he got invited to a football-themed birthday party recently, I watched him play flag football with the other boys for two hours straight. Other moms told me that their sons had told them what a good throw my son had, and as I saw him in the yard with his friends, making plays and catching tosses, I realized something that I hadn't before. I was keeping my son from something that not only made him happy but that he was also really good at.

After adamantly refusing to let him play football for years, I had taken a less harsh stance by the end of the party. I still don't want him to play tackle football — ever, if I'm being truthful — I am going to let him play a season of flag football this spring.

While I watched him play at the party, I asked the other moms about the football leagues their sons played in. Every other youth session offered during the year in our area is tackle football, but the spring session is the only one that's flag football. Since the only part of my son playing football that scares me is the tackling, I decided to let him try out a season of flag football with his friends. By the end of the party, I had signed him up for the season on my phone through a link that the other moms had sent me.

I don't want to be the person that keeps my son from what he loves

While I realize that allowing him to play flag football may lead to my son wanting to play tackle football even more in the future, I don't want to keep him from experiencing more of what I saw at that party. Not wanting him to play football has been a constant internal struggle for me. I've worried about the effect of keeping him from trying out something he clearly loves, but have also felt conflicted about going against my instincts in allowing him to do something I believe is dangerous.

For now, a season of flag football feels like a healthy compromise for both of us. If the conversation on tackle football comes up again, I'll have to deal with it to the best of my parenting abilities when that time comes. While I haven't wavered in thinking it comes with hazards, especially for young boys, I have changed my mind about not wanting to be the person who keeps my son from doing something he genuinely enjoys — and might even be destined to do.