It sort of happened by accident. One day we were a cable-loving family happily glued to the television screen watching crappy reality shows and the next we weren’t.…
I’m woken by the flicker of light between the bedroom blinds. I lay still and anticipate the fall, and by fall I mean that feeling you get when…
Tonight I sat in the Panera Bread parking lot for 2.5 hours after they had closed. What was I doing in my car for 2.5 hours on a Friday night? I was catching up on a week’s worth of texts, I was googling cotton candy makers and woodland decorations for my son’s 4th birthday party,
Dating as a single mom has been an emotional roller coaster. Correction. It’s been like an actual roller coaster where the kid in front of you throws up, the cart…
I love fun holidays! You’ll probably never meet another person that loves Halloween more than me, there’s something magical about the pride I feel on the 4th of…
Binge-watched anything lately? Yes, we all have unabashedly washed the sensational Marie Kondo’s tips and tools on how to organize our things. Her tenets have been ingrained in all of our mommy brains as we swiftly move through our cupboards and cabinets, seeking out the meaning of the term “sparks joy.” We’ve seen and contributed
Technically, it was negligent homicide. But in the eyes of my nearly-adult daughter who came home from work to find I had re-homed her Betta without her consent, my act of aquatic malice was unforgivable. I had the best of intentions, and this poor fish had been sitting in a tiny unfiltered tank for weeks,
“Mom, Max needs your help!” Shrieks my daughter perched at the top of the stairs, staring at the closed bathroom door. What could my sixteen-year-old son possibly need help with that we didn't cover when he was three, and we practiced aiming with Cheerios. I yell to him to confirm he needs assistance and assess
After the ink was dry on the divorce decree and proceedings came to a close, I thought the hardest part of the divorce was behind us. I used to empathize with people going through divorces. “I’m so sorry, that sucks. I’m here for you.” I never knew exactly how ineffectual the “obligatory” sympathy was, until
I am no stranger to disgusting things. When I was 8, my brother slammed his foot in the front door, and his big toe was left with a mangled and eventually blackened toenail. Within a week it fell off, and he unceremoniously tossed that sucker into my Barbie Dream Camper, right next to Ken and