When I was growing up (for the record, I cannot believe I’m old enough to begin a sentence with those words!!), we didn’t have cell phones. Not, like, kids didn’t have them. Nobody had them, as they had not yet been invented. The best chance of tracking down doctors, or spouses kept on short leashes,
I have been doing this mom thing for almost eight years now, and yet up until very recently, I struggled with dinner time. And when I say “struggle” I’m talking about every aspect… …from what I make (and kids don’t eat). … to the time of day (the kids are never hungry at
I follow a writer who recently lost her husband after a vicious but tragically short fight with cancer. I will not share her name or all of the details of her story as it isn’t my story to tell but if you follow amazing writers and bloggers she may be on your list and you
I’ve been wanting to write about this topic for a while. As a fat person, who gained weight only in recent years, I’m noticing more and more microaggressions about my weight. Just so we are all on the same page, “microaggressions are the everyday verbal, nonverbal, and environmental slights, snubs, or insults, whether intentional or
The Hamilton soundtrack has been in heavy rotation in our house for several months now, partly in preparation for a planned Broadway adventure on Lili’s upcoming birthday – but mostly because it’s awesome. Lili digs the varied genres of music incorporated into the score, I enjoy the history and creative wordplay. Two songs have felt
Helicopter parents are a readily identifiable species: Omnipresent, hovering, constantly scanning the area for dangers (both real and imagined) that might warrant swooping in to rescue their beloved child(ren). Many people know at least a few who fit that description, and some of us will recognize ourselves therein. Although I do not know if there
…a funny thing happens as you get older (besides hangovers becoming more painful): you start to prioritize things differently.
These days, most of my time is divided between wishing my toddler would talk more, and silently willing nearly everyone else to shut the f*ck up. You see, my beautiful, bright, sweet little boy has a speech delay – which, while both common and curable, is not without its own set of trials and tribulations.
Every morning, I wake up in bed with 3 guys, a girl, one turtle and several rabbits. Far from a sordid arrangement, the reality is closer to a cramped and sometimes stinky circus that includes me, my husband, our toddler and dogs, along with a few of my son’s current favorite stuffed animals. We never planned