By Rachel VandeVoort
Every year I inch closer to having my life back. It is a terribly selfish thing for a mother to say. But I say it out loud, along with a myriad of other not-so-perfect thoughts on the realities of being a mother. The life I long to have back is my pre-child hunting life. The days of endless miles of hiking, spontaneously exploring the millions of acres of National Forest that rest at my fingertips, happily enduring all inclement weather thrown in my path, throwing a few granola bars in my pack as ample sustenance for whatever lies ahead; all the things I took for granted as a hunter in the western United States before having kids.
Post children, my hunting life with kids- when it exists- has become bribing the kids with chocolate to walk just a few more yards, m...
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