Real Talk

Twenty-four. I stopped and did the math and the number of birthday parties I have hosted is TWENTY. FOUR. My daughter recently had her fourth birthday. She was so excited. She wanted a Shopkins party. And then she wanted a Trolls party. And then Care Bears. And then Frozen. All I wanted was to stay home and enjoy Saturday with nothing on the calendar. Lauren is our third and last child. She is our baby. The girl born after two boys, she is truly our princess. For her first birthday I went all out with the décor and the theme, complete with matching dress. It was planned down to the color of the straws. For her second birthday, we turned our...

Parents, we've all been there. Our child has had some version of a meltdown in a public place and we're now the subject of what feels like a million pairs of eyes. What next, flight or fight? Address it now or get out of dodge? Personally (contingent on age and reason of said meltdown) I make the choice of flight. I'll ignore the judging stares and get to a private area where I can handle the situation without an audience. But what happens when a spectator wants to help ... without permission? I have a specific example.  Several weeks ago, my little family and I woke up extremely early to get to downtown BR for a bevy of fun activities....

Trust me ... there is a lesson here, hang in there. I recently scratched an item off of my bucket list and I didn't even have to pack a bag. While I'd love to take an exciting vacation to the tropical rainforests of Brazil, it just isn't in the cards (or the budget) right now. But a Brazilian bikini wax ... totally doable! With swimsuit season arriving, I decided to take the plunge and have a little professional grooming done for the occasion. And seriously, a Brazilian bikini wax has been on my bucket list for a while; I just never took the plunge for fear of the appointment breaking the bank or umm, removal of ALL of the hair...

  Each evening, I set my alarm for 5:15 the next morning. Do I need to get up at 5:15? Probably not. And I don't. I hit the snooze button. I annoy my sleeping husband in increments, each with a nine minute reprieve. Sometimes I don't get out of the bed until 6:00. There are *things* I have to do in the morning to start the day and it would be SO. MUCH. EASIER if I didn't have to rush to do them. And I don't. Have to, that is. But I totally wind up rushing - and sometimes, there is crying in my house before 7:00am. I don't have babies anymore. My children are seven and four. Full disclosure: Sometimes...

I'm sure I'm not supposed to do the things I'm about to list, but I don't care. Call me a "bad mom," but I have no guilt for any of these. Sorry not sorry, kids, but... I eat your candy. I saw that the Easter Bunny brought you some Reese's eggs. What a coincidence--they happen to be my favorite. I've been eyeing them. I'll give you a day--no, 8 hours--then they're mine. Looks like an early bedtime! I trash your art. Ok, not all (I still have all the sweet ones), but honestly, most. If I can't discern what it is and can't figure out which way is up, it goes down ... in the garbage bag ... hidden under last night's trash...