I love your column. I love your writing. Ive been following you for several years. Reading your advice feels like talking to a friend over coffee and that's what I need now.

I've been with my boyfriend for three and a half years, living together for one and engaged for six months. Everything was great, we get along, he has a good sense of humor, we helped each other through some difficult personal issues, my family loves him. We want the same things and are in love.

Except three months ago I borrowed his computer to do a picture album of our story together, and you may know how this goes ... I found pictures of other women in the first year we were together. He said it was nothing. I didn't believe him, I felt I needed to know the truth and I looked at his emails. He then admitted he cheated in the first year of our relationship. I was numb, then angry, but I stayed with him. He said he used to have several relationships at the same time, it was his way of not getting close to women. He was dating two other women on and off and I was the last one to get in the picture, but he said he didn't feel like being with others, fell in love with me and ended the other relationships in the first seven months we were together. I know this is true because I saw the emails. We had a lot of problems in the first year, so I can understand him not taking it seriously. It was a long time ago, we built a great relationship since then and I know he didn't cheat again. It still hurts. I'm a big girl and I can deal with that, but there's something else I'm not sure I can take. I saw an email from a woman he dated a year before we met. She told him about the baby she had, a girl, attached a picture and said she wanted to leave the door open in case he ever wanted to meet her or have a relationship with her. He confessed she is most likely his daughter, said they slept together a few times, she got pregnant, he was scared, told her he didn't want any part in it, and cut off all contact.

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On Monday, the Cut profiled Alonso Mateo, the current bad boy of male fashion. Mateo is 5. Mateo has of late been dominating on Instagram thanks to his effortlessly cool fashion sense and his attendant grown-ups' liberal use of hashtags. Typical entry: "That's how you do it. #MateoStyle #fashion #mensfashion #kidsfashion #instafashion #instapic #kidsinstyle #fashionista #instastyle #coolestkid #handsome #boys #instacute #follow #followme #igdaily #swag #ootd #igers #shoutout #instacool #instaworld #lookbook #trendy #streetfashion #fashiondiaries." Mateo, whose look can be described as "young Steve McQueen – really, really young Steve McQueen," favors slouchy jackets, jeans and aviators. He likes expensive boots. He likes to mix things up – sometimes accessorizing with a jaunty scarf, sometimes with a plush car seat. In one photograph, he is seen chilling with a book on the floor of his closet, in front of a collection of shoes that would seem generous by Kardashian standards. Mateo has over 11,000 followers.

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I didn’t choose to have a child. Not if “choosing” means something rational—weighing pros and cons, coming to a conclusion. I tried that process but ran away from it because, even though I wanted a child, it seemed to me that creating a whole new person was such an enormity that no one could rationally decide to do such a thing. There is so much at stake, and so little certainty about the outcome. A child that I conceived might be happy, but he might be miserable beyond endurance. The child might bring happiness to others, or he might ruin people’s lives. It seemed to me that creating life was an act of astonishing hubris because it made me responsible, maybe morally responsible, for huge consequences. For most of our species’ history, we were spared that decision because procreation was not (for the most part) a choice, but merely something that happened to us. It was a biological destiny. We escaped that destiny when science gave us control over our fertility. But I wasn’t equal to the freedom that science gave me. Fearful of such an immense decision amid such uncertainty, I allowed myself to drift into parenthood instead of choosing it. I let other people’s expectations, the sheer normality of having children, construct a new, sociological destiny for me to replace the biological one and protect me from what seemed an impossible choice.

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It's not like he's bragging -- he's just reciting the lyrics to one of his favorite songs, LMFAO's “I'm Sexy and I Know It,” from their seminal 2011 album “Sorry for Party Rocking.” Other pleasures from that collection include “Party Rockers in the House Tonight,” which doesn't sound too awful coming from a four year-old's mouth until he arrives at the part where he sing/mumbles, “be the first girl to make me throw this cash.” And then there's Psy's “Gangnam Style,” a Korean paean to sexy ladies, and Owl City's “It's Always a Good Time,” and Macklemore and Ryan Lewis's “Thrift Shop.” This one, as you probably know, is a song about buying clothes at Goodwill -- a total pro-family activity -- but unfortunately either Macklemore or Lewis introduces the topic by discussing the size of his cock (“big”).

The problem here is twofold. First, it seems a given that having your preschooler sing about sexy ladies and big cocks is distasteful. Second, every time he sings one of these songs in public, I know what all the other parents are thinking: Jesus, Lauren, your kid has really bad taste.

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Learning to drive under his tutelage took about two months. He'd guide me to school parking lots and down side streets, stepping out of his Jeep to instruct me on the turns and reverses of parallel parking. I'd fluster easily, like a teenager, hoping to get a nod of approval. Most of the time, I got it, and when I did, I'd beam.

Never had he felt more like a traditional dad to me than during those summer noons and dusks. And despite his oft-expressed love and his pride in all my successes, never had I felt more like his daughter.

Outside of driving, I saw my father once weekly or biweekly on average for the whole four years I spent in his city. Growing up, we saw each other far less, and I learned quickly to adapt to long absences. Even with him nearby, I was still falling back on my old habit of denying that I wanted more of his attention than I was getting. We'd closed the physical distance, but I couldn't cross the emotional canyon.

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Like most families, we’ve experienced the occasional lapse in honesty and integrity. Unlike most families, our worst offender isn’t one of the kids. It’s Grandpa.

Grandpa has spent the last five or so years living with Uncle Sam, otherwise known as a federal correction facility in Florida. He was sentenced to 63 months in connection with a small hedge fund he ran that went belly-up. His victims included his family, neighbors and friends.

Our daughters were young when he was convicted, ages 3 and 5, which was something of a blessing. When we explained that Grandpa had taken money from people and was going to prison, they accepted it easily, as if we’d told them he was being punished for getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar — which, in a way, he was. Over the years, we delivered his birthday wishes, sent via prison email, and talked about him just like you’d share the latest news about a grandparent. Only this grandparent didn’t get to visit over the holidays.

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Lee-Duffell told the museum "thanks, but no thanks" to the alternative rate and went public with her story, generating a lot of outrage on the Internet.

Now, the museum is claiming to be the real victim of unfair treatment.

In a delightfully tautological statement, the museum says that it couldn't possibly discriminate against anyone because its policies are not discriminatory:

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I spit out my coffee when my friend shared this with me. Look, Cr8zSexyThang99, I thought. No judgment on your sexual practices (or your spelling), but is the vagina shout-out really necessary? I mean, on your own time, do what you want — go for it! But it’s hard enough monitoring what my kids are doing online. I don’t want to be up at night worrying that I’m paying their baby sitter $16 an hour for lessons in sexting.

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Stevenson spoke in D.C. on Wednesday at a New America Foundation forum devoted to issues affecting contemporary families, including single motherhood, new trends in divorce and if and how marriage equality will transform the institution of marriage. Since the president had announced his intent to appoint Stevenson to the three-person council just two days earlier, her insights about marriage, divorce and women in the labor force were particularly interesting: She'll now be tasked with giving the president economic advice to inform domestic policy, meaning she'll have an effect on the home lives of countless Americans.

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Researchers from the University of Pennsylvania have discovered that stress experienced by young and adult male mice leaves a genetic mark in sperm that can result in an unusually low reactivity to stress in their offspring.

A blunted stress response may sound like a good thing (it's like Klonopin from nature!), but can actually result in a series of irregular stress responses and related disorders, as the researchers note: "Whether such diminished stress reactivity would be detrimental or beneficial to offspring likely depends on the environment into which they were born, as well as genetic background factors."

In order to stress the male mice out, scientists moved them between cages, exposed them to fox urine (a natural mouse predator) and told them that 40 percent of female mice are now the primary breadwinners for their mouse families, imperiling mouse society as they know it.

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Researchers at Melbourne University in Australia collected data on 500 children across the country and found that kids growing up in gay and straight families matched pretty equally when it came to self-esteem, emotional well-being and the amount of time they spent with parents; but when it came to overall health and family cohesion, the children of gay parents did even better than the national average.

Lead researcher Dr Simon Crouch attributed the findings to gay families fostering open communication as they endure challenges together, which helps children become more resilient. "Because of the situation that same-sex families find themselves in, they are generally more willing to communicate and approach the issues that any child may face at school, like teasing or bullying,'' he said.

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What's that, you say? That sounds like a crap idea? Well, too late, folks. They're already in your offspring's hands. This year, children across the country received – often with little discussion or explanation — a cheerfully named FitnessGram telling them the results of a physical fitness assessment test, including a judgment of whether "You have a healthy weight," or you're "underweight," "overweight" or "obese." Surprise, middle-schoolers! Here's a little something else to make your life just that much more awesome.

The current test affects roughly 65,000 public schools in at least 19 states. In New York City alone, over 850,000 students get a FitnessGram every year. My family is lucky – at my seventh-grade daughter's progressive, stick-it-to-the-man school, their teacher recently told the students point-blank the scores were dumb and to feel free to rip them up. And many of the students – at least to outside appearances – dutifully proceeded to simply shrug off the paperwork. "A lot of them laughed," my daughter told me later, "but a few of them were upset, saying, 'It says I'm faaaaaat.'"

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“This fucking pencil won’t work,” he said.

I was boiling pasta at the stove top. “What did you say?” It wasn’t an accusation. I was pretty sure I’d heard him wrong.

“The fucking pencil,” he repeated earnestly. “It's broken.”

He didn’t have that sheepish, "oops" look on his face, and there was nothing in his tone that indicated an awareness of crossing any line. My son has always prided himself on employing the mot juste, ever since he was 2 and announced proudly that he was too “selfish” to give me a lick of his ice cream. It was clear that in this moment, he was only trying to find the appropriate adjective to describe the pencil. And thanks to me, he thought that word was a four-letter one.

I curse. A lot. More, certainly, than many other mothers of three young children; more, maybe, than most people in general, excepting phone sex workers, sailors and actors in Tarantino films. Not just the soft stuff either, like “asshole” and “hell,” which I don't even consider a real expletive. I’m a fan of the f-bomb in all its forms and yes, sometimes, I go whole hog, and stick a “mother” in front. Once, in a moment of rage and sleep deprivation, when my year-old son had a 104 degree fever and the mechanic who’d towed our car was holding it hostage, I went so far as to indulge in, “motherfucking cocksucker.” My mother, feeding the baby a bottle a few feet away, looked aghast. The mechanic wasn’t too happy either.

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In an editorial for the New York Times on Sunday, Coontz steers clear of the gender norm panic fueling much of the fury over women's growing role as breadwinners for their families and the rise of single mothers in the United States, instead opting to write sensibly about the realities of working parents and what politicians and employers can do to help.

After reviewing more than a half-century of data on working mothers, Coontz concludes that stable employment with fair compensation is good for families over all. What's more, challenges faced by breadwinner and single mothers aren't reasons to shame women out of meeting the economic demands of their households; they are actually opportunities to reconsider current social policies and programs that are failing modern families -- whether they're headed by men or women.

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And to agree, kind of politely.

I was out at party a while ago, listening to some people in their 40s talk about hiring millennials, and how they are all entitled. This is the word that comes up over and over. After a certain number of minutes into the conversation (10? 15? I’m a pushover) I found myself agreeing that, yes, 25-year-olds are just doing drugs in their parents’ basement because they hate the mere idea of working. Meth, probably. At least Adderall. Probably something stolen out of their parents’ medicine cabinets because those unemployed losers can’t get money to buy their own drugs to fuel their Lena Dunham-esque sex romps. “I’m like you,” I wanted to say, “by which I mean I am an employed non-meth addict.”

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In a segment hosted by Dobbs on Wednesday, Erickson called female breadwinners "anti-science," "bad for kids and bad for marriage;" Dobbs later chimed in to say that the rise of female-headed households and single mothers are both "troubling" developments.

After sparring with Dobbs (who, in one of the video's most infuriating moments, condescendingly refers to Kelly as "Oh Dominant One"), Kelly moves on to Erickson, who she shreds for ignoring decades of research about working mothers in favor of his own conclusions about gender, work and parenting.

"Why should we take your word for it, Erick Erickson's science, instead of all of these experts?," Kelly asks.

Because scientists have an agenda, (total and utterly agendaless) Erickson replies.

Watch the full exchange below:

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According to Dr. Aarathi Prasad, menopause is an artifact from a time when resources were scarce and it was common for women to die young. But today, she says, when life expectancy can stretch into the 100s and resources are plentiful for many women living in advanced economies, menopause is no longer "normal for nature" and is something that can be "overcome" by nature or science.

“The mood of scientists working on this and looking to the future is we will either technologically or scientifically evolve out of the menopause," she told an audience at the Hay Festival of Literature and Arts this week.

The Telegraph goes on to report more of her remarks on why menopause is no longer "necessary" from an evolutionary perspective:

“When menopause evolved, women probably died ten years before it happened, it hit in your 50s, on average,” she went on. “If you're looking at a future where women are going to live to 100, that's half your life when the rest of your body functions perfectly well and your ovaries don't.

“And it's not just reproduction. The menopause brings an increased risk of heart disease and osteoporosis.

The biologist and science writer concluded her remarks with an assessment of menopause that many women who have experienced it would likely agree with: "Is [menopause] something necessary or beneficial for us?" she asked the audience. "I do not see any benefits.”

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Nearly 40 percent of these "breadwinner moms" are married mothers who have a higher income than their husbands; just over 60 percent are single mothers. The income gap between the two groups is considerable, according to Pew:

The median total family income of married mothers who earn more than their husbands was nearly $80,000 in 2011, well above the national median of $57,100 for all families with children, and nearly four times the $23,000 median for families led by a single mother.

Researchers also surveyed for attendant shifts in public opinion about gender roles and parenting as a growing number of working mothers support their families:

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Actually, as it turns out, breast-feeding is really f’n hard -- despite the claims of every baby book, blog, doctor, midwife, woman and some men (who always seem to be fans of anything having to do with boobs). Is there a chance that your baby will pop out and land square on your boob, latch perfectly and nourish itself with no problems whatsoever? Yes, of course (and yes, of course, I will want to slap you as a result), but I believe there needs to be a very real shift in expectations among pregnant women when it comes to their breast-feeding capabilities.

As it stands now, we are all told that breast-feeding is the ONLY option for feeding your child if you actually love that child and want them to ever have more than a third-grade-level reading ability. If you don’t breast-feed your baby, you might as well just immediately drop it off at your local prison because that is where it’s going to end up anyway after such a horrible start to its life. Breast-feeding is beautiful and natural and the best and only socially acceptable way to nourish your baby. It is the most natural thing on the planet, you see.

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