Over the weekend—yes, Mother's Day weekend—I went away by myself for a night. Sounds kind of counterintuitive, I know. Didn't I want to wake up on . . .
I remember the exact day—the exact moment—when I realized I didn't have to keep pushing. It was August 19, 2016, the day after my birthday, and my . . .
About once a week, our kids eat hot dogs for dinner. Another night, it's grilled cheese sandwiches. Every Friday is pizza for supper. It's not . . .
My husband is gone for work this week and Henry is missing him like crazy. This is the kid who counts down the minutes until Graham gets home on the . . .
Today is our Winnie's second birthday and we are going to blow it up big—toddler-style—for her. Balloons and cupcakes and singing. A trip to her . . .
There is a phenomenon happening in my home right this minute and it is called MY PRE-TEEN. If ever I thought the season of bonding, secret telling, . . .
For months—no, years now—my hubby has been inviting us to accompany him on his business trips. I've taken advantage of a few with him sans children, . . .
This summer, we heard a piece on the Today show about the looming extinction of the middle child in America. That sounds a bit dramatic, but here's . . .
Often the most negative voice in our lives is the one between our ears. But not always. A few days ago, I listened to a group of moms at a playground . . .
I took my pre-teen back-to-school shopping and lived to tell the tale. Okay, that's a bit dramatic. But, really. Maddox starts middle school next . . .