As my two children grow into themselves, I've noticed something that's probably glaringly obvious to others: my children have a relationship with each other that's wholly unconnected to their dad a
I didn't used to be one for keeping New Year's resolutions. Sure, I made them, but as with most of us, they fell by the wayside after a few days.
It's happened again: schoolchildren shot down in a place they should feel safe.
One of my favorite things to do during the holidays is to make cookies. I'm not some cookie queen, able to churn out dozens of intricate, hand-cut shapes.
We've experienced a major change in my household in the past week, something I'm not comfortable posting the details about.
A long-ago friend of mine who now lives in Alaska writes a blog so amazing and so heartfelt that she puts to shame anything I write.
Is it just me, or do the holidays seem to be rushing at us like an out-of-control freight train? I am SO not ready.
My cat Rodney is a troublemaker. Just last week, he mixed it up with some other animal in the neighborhood and got bit in the backside for his trouble.
One of my favorite places in town doesn't have a collection of beautiful flowers. It doesn't have a breathtaking vista or a soothing waterfall. What it has is books. Lots and lots of books.
Finding time to myself was simple in the days before children. Back when I was single, the only creatures who demanded my attention were two cats and a handful of friends.