With Independence Day looming (I’m reminded nightly by the loud booms and bangs of fireworks that wake my almost-asleep son), it's time to reflect on the ways we’ve “independenced” ourselves since
As of 9:15 p.m. Thursday, I will be officially the mother of a teenager. My firstborn turns 13 and I can feel the gray hairs popping out already.
When I was young, back in the glory days of the 1970s, there was a girl in my school whose last name was Jenner, and she said her cousin was then-superstar Olympian Bruce Jenner.
I've written about feeling out of control in the past, and it's something I struggle with: when to let go and when to cling tightly.
When did I suddenly become invisible? And when did people in authority positions get so YOUNG? I think I know the answer to both questions, and it's not one I'm liking.
I've written before about my love for my little backyard, which I guess isn’t really that little (just ask my husband after he spends the afternoon mowing the lawn).
As I was driving down West Jefferson Boulevard at lunchtime today, a blinding flash of lightning crashed just in front of me, followed quickly by a loud rumble of thunder.
Wanted: One friend for small boy of 7 years
You know, it's the little things that make life worth living. And by little things, I'm talking about the joy of a well-loaded dishwasher.
The waiting game seems to be paying off: after my husband got a little, shall we say, forceful with our pediatr