“To My Pregnant Belly” by Tatiana Lopez

I look at my belly in the mirror, swollen to the size of a basketball at seven months pregnant . . .

“I Have No Toys” by Samuel Murphy

I have no toys.

I was hoping that at this stage of my life, as both husband and father, I would have some pretty cool toys. But I don’t. Instead I have four daughters, and this is why I have no toys . . .

“Hana” by Frederick Foote

Hana Irene Carter is showing her fourteen-year-old Asian-black ass this afternoon. She walks through my house and into my kitchen, ignoring me, her grandmother Irene, and four of her other relatives, only smiling at and kissing Emma, my black sheep cousin, on the cheek. She then opens the refrigerator and takes out a beer. She pops the top, takes a long swig, and burps, looking directly at me with an in-your-face, self-satisfied grin.

Before I can act, Irene is up. She pulls the can out of her granddaughter’s hand and dumps the beer out in the sink . . .

“Surrounded” by Brian Lance

Are you a parent going through the Terrible Twos? Did you live through them and survive? Terrible Twosdays is a place to commiserate over the unending shenanigans of your Darling Children (as the online parenting communities say). Nonfiction stories will be considered, so long as names have been changed to protect the guilty. Inspired by […]

“Little Bear’s Apgar Score” by Caroline Bock

The baby is beautiful, but then isn’t every baby?

But it’s not really beautiful. Its face is red, and its head is oversized, swollen, and dripping with newborn hair and blood . . .

“The Playdate” by Kathleen McElligott

Desperate for adult conversation, I volunteer as a room mom. I’m teamed up with Victoria, whose twins are Drew and Cameron. Victoria’s high maintenance, but she’s fine with the fact that Deshy has two mommies.

Victoria asks if the twins can come over for a playdate while she shops for the day. Deshy has been to their house—now it’s our turn. He’s not thrilled when I tell him . . .

“365 Days of No” by E.R. Catalano

In the final tally I’m not sure who said it more, my daughter or me.

That year from two to three was full of refusals—there was the bedtime no and the cleaning up no; no to taking a bath and no to getting out of the bath; no to getting dressed or undressed. It was the toddler version of Newton’s third law: every action demanded an equal and opposite uh-uh . . .

“Weight for It” by Brenda McCray

“Mama, Miss Tina is fat,” Rose announced from the backseat of my Nissan Sentra. Panic immediately set in . . .