My mother passed away when I was 13 years old. It wasn’t sudden. She knew that she wouldn’t live to see me graduate high school or get married.…
Any common ground that unites us also becomes a measuring stick. For those in the season of motherhood, there are many measuring sticks to be tossed around followed by…
Sometimes people ask why we do the things we do. Why we try our best to be kind to each other. Why we sit together at events for…
My oldest entered kindergarten this year full of excitement about homework, of all things. The hubs and I assured him that once it started, it would suck the…
It was with privileged optimism that I enrolled my sons at a Montessori preschool during a “sensitive period” of my own during which I needed to assume less…
Who doesn’t want to be told to stop their fussing and learn to do things half-ass? As a mom, this was one of my earliest achievements: the art…
My mission was to collect my son’s poop. The tools: one specimen collection container, a dozen tongue depressors, one fecal blood test smear, and four collection tubes. Instructions:…
Ah, Disney. The magical place where grown men wear face paint, recently married adults spend their mouse-ear clad honeymoon, where sick children’s last wishes come true and where…
I was 8 when my first pet bit the dust. I hopped off the bus and was greeted by my sister’s tabby cat. She was fat and happy,…
I grew up in a household where girl parts were called vaginas, boy parts were called penises and pooping was called a bowel movement. My parents believed in…