I've been complaining a lot lately, so let me pause in my grumpiness to appreciate what a beautiful spring we've had lately. Sure it was cold on Mother's Day, but look at the flowers.
The funny thing about clubs: if you're out, you think the club is laaaaame. If you're in, well … you're in. This month has been the month of inclusion.
We celebrated Momish Day on Saturday with a viewing of "The Great Gatsby" and truffles from DeBrand. We wrapped up the day with burgers on the grill and some much needed quiet time at home.
Mother's Day is a lovely day to honor our mothers, grandmothers and the incredible women in our lives. We've made an art out of celebrating our moms on this day.
Sometimes, parenting is not all fun and games. Sometime, frankly, it's a pain in the tuckus.
Having five children means I have received Mother's Day gifts in every shape, size and category over the last (let's just say many) years.
This post may be a smorgasblog, but stay with me. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I smell a little like stale breastmilk.
I was having lunch recently with three girlfriends, two of whom have children ranging from grade schoolers to recent college graduates. The other friend is a teacher.
It has been said we women use about 20,000 words as well as five tones of voice in any given day. That’s a lot of words, girls!
I'm what's known as a wanna-be clean freak. That is, my desires to have a clean, orderly home and workplace are derailed by my rank ineptitude and laziness.