It’s been one of those weeks. Actually, it’s been three of them, and things at our house are off balance. I’m struggling to get it back.
→When my father was alive he was a firm believer in the power of positive thinking. So much so that he often asked me one question
→In high school I once told someone that I would have been disowned by my family had I not been interested in and good with foreign
→As a child tag was never my game. I didn’t like it and frankly I was no good at it. The sunset sky would begin to
→I slide my feet into wedge sandals usually tucked into a corner of my closet, high and unworn enough to make me feel special, casual enough
→I have a friend who has two boys, ages 3 1/2 and nearly 2. Her first son has been attending preschool since he was 2 1/2
→I am here today to be judged by a jury of my peers with regard to my parenting choices. I have opted for pro se legal
→With researched articles echoing warnings in my mind, I did everything I could to keep Abbey from watching TV until she turned two years old. Dylan
→My daughter started first grade this week, in a new school. A public school. In a system where – oh by the way – I also
→When my beautiful boy, Austin, was born, his 20-month-old sister freaked out. And “freaked out” doesn’t really describe it. In tears at the pediatrician’s office, I
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