National Bologna Day: From Grandma’s Kitchen to Post-Jäger Recovery

There are certain foods that define childhood  and for me, that food is bologna.

Every bite is a flashback to simpler summers, sticky kitchens, and my grandma’s firm belief that mayonnaise was a gift from above (even though every kid in the house strongly disagreed).

Summers at Grandma’s meant bologna sandwiches. White bread. Thick layer of mayo. A single slice of bologna that somehow managed to fold itself in half no matter what.

As a kid, mayo was pure evil. Gross. Slimy. Unnecessary. But mustard? Oh, mustard was the hero. And while we gagged our way through mayo-covered sandwiches, my mom would be sitting there happy as can be eating liverwurst.  Liverwurst! I was convinced she’d lost all taste buds and possibly her sanity.

Cut to my young adult years filled with questionable decisions, and nights out fueled by warm Jägermeister shots. You know those nights.

When your head is spinning, your dignity’s missing because you’re throwing up in front of everyone on the bar’s volleyball court and all you want is something, anything to eat before sleeping it off?

That’s when Grandma’s kitchen came through. Because let me tell you nothing (and I mean nothing) hits quite like a bologna and liverwurst sandwich on a poppy seed roll with mustard when you’re teetering between regret and survival.  It was salty, squishy, and oddly comforting like my body knew exactly what childhood food could save it.

The next morning, Grandma woke us up for church because of course she did. No hangover excuses. No sleeping in. Just “get dressed, we’re leaving in ten.”

Somewhere between the sermon and the second hymn, I realized something tragic: I had officially become my mother.  The kid who once gagged at liverwurst was now singing its praises to anyone willing to listen.  And honestly? I kind of loved it.

So here’s to bologna, the humble hero of childhood lunches and questionable adulthood recovery meals.

Here’s to mayo, mustard, liverwurst, and grandmas who didn’t care what brand you liked they just fed you and sent you off to church with a full stomach and a slightly guilty conscience.

Because sometimes, the best memories are made from the things we swore we’d never eat again… and then somehow can’t live without.

Homework Feels Like a Full-Time Job 

There comes a point in parenting where you realize your teenager’s homework is not just their homework. It's your emotional rollercoaster, your late-night frustration, and your caffeine-fueled pep talk all rolled into one.

We’re there. We’ve been there.  You know the scene, the teenager who suddenly forgets how pencils work, the last-minute “I have a project due tomorrow”, or the glazed-over look when you say “you need to do your homework."

It’s not like we’re asking for much. I’m not saying, “Please build me a guest house or start a business, or even take out the trash.”   No, just… turn in the assignments. That’s it. That’s the job.

How many conversations we’ve had. Calm ones, heated ones, the kind where you start off reasonably and end up Googling military academies at midnight.

We’ve tried “you’re only hurting yourself,” “we believe in you,” and even the classic “no phone and I’m holding the PlayStation controllers hostage till you're done.”

Natural consequences? Sure. They failed tests, missed assignments, and watched those grades slide. And there we are biting our tongues, letting them feel it.

But let’s be honest, watching your kid fail feels like failing yourself. We say “let them learn,” but secretly we’re Googling “how to fix this without losing my mind.”

So, we had another talk. Not the “you’re grounded” talk. The “we love you, we’re here for you, but we’re disappointed” talk.  The “this is not the example we set” talk.  Yes, it’s actually OK to be disappointed.  That emotion doesn’t mean we love our kids any less, it means we believe in them more.  Disappointment, when it comes from a place of love, can be the spark that reminds them and us that accountability matters. That effort counts. That “doing your job” is part of growing up even when homework feels like the hardest job of all.

I told my teenager, “Daddy does his job. I do mine. You need to do yours.”  That’s it. Simple right? We all have responsibilities in life. And for once maybe, finally something clicked.

Within days, grades started going up. Homework was being done. Missing assignments magically submitted. And for one small, shining moment, we’re moving in the right direction.

Will it last?  Honestly, I have no idea. I’m not taking bets. The over/under is unpredictable with teens.  But today, we’re calling it a win.

If you’re there too, the nightly battle, the begging, the tears, the frustration you are not alone.  You’re not crazy for caring this much.  You’re not controlling; you’re exhausted.  You’re not micromanaging; you’re parenting.

You love them fiercely, even when you want to pull your hair out.  We don’t need perfection. We just want effort and a little peace after 9 p.m.

So tonight, pour another cup of coffee, hide in your room if you must, and take a deep breath.  Because tomorrow, there will be more math, more sighs, more “I’ll do it later.”

Today we moved in the right direction. And that’s enough.

Talking Teen

Do you ever look around at a group of teenagers in your kitchen and think: Do you talk to your parents like this? Because that’s me. I’ve somehow become the mom who hears it all, not just from my own son, but from his friends too. And let me tell you, sometimes I cringe at what comes out of their mouths, and sometimes I’m sorry I let it happen, but I keep listening. Because if they feel comfortable talking in front of me, it means they know they have a safe space.

My son is 13 going on 30, he’s been through the friend group survival obstacle course more times that I care to admit and no matter which group he clings to he and his friends have a language that feels like it needs subtitles. Thanks to TikTok, YouTube, Snapchat, and whatever else they’re glued to, words like chopped, aura, or rizz fly around like they’re speaking fluent teen. (Side note: apparently rizz is already old, which makes me feel about 200.) And in case you’re wondering; Chopped doesn’t mean cooking or onions anymore; it's teen slang for “ugly” or “not it.” Aura is all about someone’s vibe or energy, usually said as a compliment.  Rizz is short for charisma, basically meaning someone’s got game or charm.  So how do I know all this? Because I listen. I engage. Sometimes too much. And while I love that these kids feel like they can let it all out in front of me, it definitely has its pros and cons.

On the bright side, I know they feel heard. They know they can vent, share, or laugh without me shutting them down. I have definitely had to shut down some conversations!  That kind of open dialogue builds trust, and it helps me stay connected to his/their world even if I’m silently googling half the things they’re saying. I love that they feel comfortable enough to be themselves here, and if it means I have to hear the occasional cringe worthy detail, so be it. 

But here’s the downside, sometimes they forget I’m a parent and not one of their buddies. There are definitely moments when I think, “Do I really need to know this?” and the answer is almost always no. And yes, I know we might be being taken advantage of sometimes but that’s what happens when your house is the hangout spot.

We’ve become that house, the one where kids can flop on the couch, laugh too loudly, help themselves to a snack and whip up mac and cheese at 8:30 on a Saturday night like it’s a gourmet meal. The sound of five 13-year-old boys making pasta somehow sounds exactly like a gaggle of girls and it’s quite refreshing.

At the end of the day, though, I’ll take the noise, the slang I barely understand, and the occasional overshare if it means these kids know they can be real here. Sometimes they need advice from “that mom,” and sometimes they just need someone to nod, smile, and let them rant.  But I want to be crystal clear, I’m not here to have those serious conversations. If something important or serious ever came up, I’d let them know they need to speak to their parents, because that’s where the real support comes from. What I am here for is the everyday stuff, the laughs, the stories, and the safe space to just be yourself without judgment.

9 Days Into the School Year… and We’re Already Here

This morning started with, “My throat hurts. I don’t learn anything at school.” Cue the thermometer check (normal), the side-eye from mom (me), and my kid insisting he doesn’t need a doctor.

Now, let’s be honest, I know these tricks and they didn’t work for me either. A late basketball practice, a late bedtime, and an early wake-up? Recipe for “Mom, I don’t feel good.”

At 13,  the daily obstacle course we call school already feels like he’s running the gauntlet.  And truthfully, I get it, I hated school too. But here we are. He's smart, but doesn’t always apply himself. He’s got strengths, he’s got weaknesses, and we’ve worked hard to keep communication open.

So here’s my mom-confession: am I being a “mean mom” for not immediately jumping to sympathy? Or am I just recognizing what this really is, a mix of normal teenage avoidance, late-night exhaustion, and probably the science test he didn’t study for? I’m a GenX kid, this should be a no brainer, right?  Because here’s the thing, I know he was fine yesterday. I know he’s been fine all week. I also know there’s a pile of homework sitting undone.  As much as “I think I know” I don’t know everything. Maybe something’s going on at school. Maybe it’s just the weight of being 13. Maybe it’s both.

Are we the only parents in this boat that feels like it’s sinking?  Have your kids already tried to pull the “I don’t feel good” card nine days into the school year!  I see you. We’re rowing right along with you.

So here I am asking you, other moms: Am I being too tough? Too dismissive? Or is this just one of those normal teenage growing pains?

Any advice from moms who’ve been in this same boat? Do you call their bluff, or give them the benefit of the doubt?

Either way, I sent him to school… because last I checked, sniffles don’t excuse a pop quiz!

Preposting Edit: Said sick child has not been home since school let out today! 

If these Molds could Talk...

9/10/2025

If you grew up in a kitchen in the 60s, 70s, or 80s, chances are you saw copper molds proudly displayed on the wall. My mom always had them hanging somewhere in the kitchen. Gleaming circles, scallops, fruits, and ornate rings that looked as much like art as they did baking tools and always coordinated with the current wallpaper trends. 

They were there for the silly giggles, quick snacks between driving mom crazy and homework, and also for the serious talks. The kind of conversations that only seemed to happen around the kitchen table with hands wrapped around cold beers or steaming hot coffee cups. Where walls felt safe and words carried weight.  They’re also great for hiding things until all hell breaks out between teenage siblings.

And now, for the past 24 years, they’ve hung in my kitchen, quietly watching over my family dinners, birthday cakes, first steps, first teenager standoffs, holiday spreads, late-night snacks, and the great household spouse negotiations. I can only imagine the stories they could tell of laughter, chaos, burnt casseroles, and meals that somehow turned out perfect anyway. 

Do I use them? No, they’re memory keepers.  Every time I catch a glimpse or wash them during cleaning seasons I feel connected to my mom, to family traditions, and to the generations of cooks before us who believed that the kitchen was the heart of the home.

Sometimes I wonder, if these molds could talk, what would they say?. Maybe they’d laugh about the dog helping himself to the cereal boxes, or the dozens of times we ran through the kitchen while dinner was on the stove. Or maybe they’d whisper about the difficult decisions parents have to make and the talks that shaped us, proving the kitchen wasn’t just for food, it was for life.

So yes, they’re shiny and vintage, but they’re also priceless. They’re my little pieces of family history hanging right there in my kitchen.

We Always Talk About a Village for the Kids—But What About One for Us?

July 9, 2025, August 25, 2025, September 5, 2025

They say it takes a village to raise a child, and every mom knows that’s true. But what they don’t tell us is it also takes a village to raise a mom, especially one who’s been running on caffeine, toddler negotiations, teenage tantrums, and emotional whiplash for a decade.

Recently, I reconnected with a group of high school friends. Friends formed during HS Band, yes Marching Band.  We wore those funny hats, and the very unflattering uniforms.  We were more than just classmates, we were friends and friends of friends. You know, the ones who knew you when you were fun and had purple hair, before friends groups morphed and you splintered in different directions. Long before you had to schedule phone calls or pretend you weren’t yelling at your kid while on a Zoom meeting. And let me tell you after all these years, it was like time hit pause and we picked up right where we left off. Unfortunately, we all didn’t stay in touch but some of them did and their bond and village will stand the test of time. We shared everything from baby pictures to career moves to shock at who we (me) married, personal losses, huge career accomplishments and how none of us can stay awake past 9 PM now.  We reminisced, laughed until we cried or maybe leaked a little, and then we ate cake. Amazingly delicious cake!

There was even memorabilia, photos, notes, talk of some questionable fashion choices that took us straight back to simpler days when our biggest concern was who was driving to the diner after band practice, trying to get back in the car before the light turns green, or trick-or-treating at our favorite instructor's house.

It was overwhelming in the best way. Nostalgia mixed with deep gratitude that these friendships, despite the chaos of adulting, had somehow stayed intact and that I was included after one friend so often reminds me that “I joined the dark side”. It reminded me that we all need a village whether it’s old friends or new to keep us grounded, sane, and connected to the person we were before life, kids, and chaos took over. One that sticks with us through diaper blowouts, tween attitude, and our own identity shifts.

So yes, raise your kids with a village. But don’t forget to nurture your own. Friendships that survive time, distance, and the occasional forgotten birthday text? That’s real magic.

I actually started writing this blog right after our reunion dinner, full of joy from reconnecting. But before I could finish, life forced me to hit pause to remember, reflect, and grieve after a shockingly devastating turn of events.

Since that reunion dinner, where we made loose plans to see each other again, life reminded us how fragile time really is. One of our friends, still so young, still so full of life passed away unexpectedly just weeks later. He left behind a heartbroken wife and family, and as for us, his friends, we were left shocked, having just shared laughter and stories around a dinner table. Our next gathering was a celebration of life. A life cut too short. 

It feels surreal that we lived in the same town yet rarely crossed paths as adults. And now, I find myself holding tight to the memories: thank you for being my friend, for letting me borrow your coveted Dead Milkmen records which I shamefully held onto far too long, for taking me to your prom, and for all the silly, fun things we once did together. You will always be remembered, always loved, and always part of the village that shaped who I am today.

Losing a friend so soon after reconnecting was a painful reminder that life doesn’t wait for us to “have time.” Friendships matter, whether they’re brand new or decades old. They’re the threads that keep us grounded, remind us who we were, and help us navigate who we’re becoming.

So, make the dinner plans. Send the text. Share the old photos, laugh at the silly stories, and say thank you more often. Our kids need their village but so do we. And sometimes, our village becomes the sweetest reminder that even though life is messy, love and friendship stand the test of time.

9/4/25

Falling Into Declutter Mode: Making Space for a Cozy Season

School has started and Fall is here. With it comes cooler nights, pumpkin spice everything, and that sudden urge to make our homes feel fresh, cozy, and a little less chaotic. Enter: decluttering.

Now before you roll your eyes and think, “Sure, let me just add decluttering to my never-ending mom to-do list,” hear me out. We “live” in our house, there are dirty dishes in the sink, rotting leftovers in the fridge, dog hair in the corner of the dining room, backpacks on the counter and beds that aren’t made. Decluttering and cleaning are not the same. Decluttering is removing unnecessary items from a space, while cleaning is removing dirt, dust, and grime. Decluttering gets rid of things you no longer need or use, creating more space and order. They are different actions but hey, if the windows get washed in the process, so be it!

Decluttering doesn’t have to be overwhelming, and it definitely doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s about creating mental and physical space for what actually matters to you and your family.  How else am I going to display my chachki fall decor!

Fall is a great time for a fresh start. Summer toys, pool bags, and random “where did this even come from?” items pile up fast. Clearing them out makes room for sweaters, blankets, and cozy nights in.  Less clutter around you often means less stress inside you.

There’s no perfect time to declutter. You don’t need a free weekend, a perfectly quiet house, or a burst of magical motivation. Do it when you can. The junk drawer while you’re cooking dinner, just keep an eye on the pot that’s about to boil over. Ten minutes before school pick-up? Perfect. Kids watching a show? Grab a drawer. You set the pace.

Some moms love the whole “Marie Kondo every closet in a weekend” energy. Others? Not so much. Both are okay. Full-on purge feels impossible and speaking from experience they are!  One drawer a day. 10 items gone every week. One in, one out rule new hoodie in, old hoodie out. Decluttering is personal, do what feels manageable, not what Instagram tells you to do.

Before you laugh,  yes kids can help. And they should! After all, they’re co-creators of the chaos. Instead of making it a chore, try flipping their mindset and maybe there won’t be as much clutter the next go around. Make a game out of it or let them choose items to give away and explain how another child will love it just as much.  When kids help keep their spaces tidy, they start to understand it’s not just “mom’s job.”

Small steps add up, and before you know it, your home will feel lighter, calmer, and ready for all the cozy fall vibes.  So this season, instead of chasing perfection, let’s chase progress. One toy, one drawer, one closet at a time. 

9/1/25

Labor Day Appreciation

For Labor Day this year I’d like to celebrate my husband. Here’s to the man who works so hard so that we can thrive. Who sits in bumper-to-bumper traffic so we can swim in the pool, spend long days at the beach, and chase the little dreams that make up our best memories.

Your job doesn’t end when you clock out. You walk through the door hoping for a few minutes of quiet but instead you’re greeted with our loud, silly, slightly aggravating chaos. From me speaking in code (iykyk, deadass 🙃) to the rapid-fire questions and the completely incoherent things that fall out of my mouth, to being begged relentlessly to watch this video with me or to play basketball until you finally give in.

And still, you keep showing up. Even when we don’t make it easy (sorry again about the grass), even when you’d rather be anywhere but on vacation at your least favorite spot, you choose us.

“Thank you” is never enough but thank you anyway. For another great summer. For every sacrifice. For every eye-roll, sigh, and laugh you give us. We love you more than words.

8/31/25

One More Summer Night

I look at this picture and can’t help but feel joy in my heart. How much difference six years can make. Who they were, who they want to be, who they’re becoming and it all feels like it’s happening in the blink of an eye.

Friendships that once felt unbreakable sometimes change or even fade. Heartbreaks arrive sooner than we’d ever wish for them. And as much as we’d love to protect our kids from the bumps and bruises of growing up, we know they need space to figure out who they are, while we guide from the sidelines sometimes quietly, and sometimes not so quietly.

This was the last float night at our local pool, and this picture captures it perfectly. The magic of youth, the freedom of summer, and the innocence that slips away too quickly.

If only they could stay young and carefree just a little longer. But even as they grow, we’ll always have the memories. And maybe, just maybe, those memories will be the foundation that steadies them as they find their way.  

8/30/25

Back-to-School Isn’t Just for the Kids.  September isn’t only about sharpened pencils and packed lunches, it’s about moms, too. Whether you’re hustling out the door for work, running your household like a CEO, or finding quiet corners to juggle Zoom calls, back-to-school season feels like our fresh start.

For some of us, it’s about doing more for our families, supporting our  exhausted husbands, and most importantly, finding that spark for ourselves. I’ve been fortunate to stay home with my son for 13 years.  He needs me less and while I love being home I am also feeling the itch for something new. So here I am, diving into real estate maybe even as the Mom Bun Realtor. Because why not?

Whether you’re scrubbing toilets, managing boardrooms, or sneaking in study time for your own classes, I see you. We all see you. You’re proof that moms make it happen even if dinner looks like pizza on Wednesday night, no judgment, only respect.

Here’s to a season of fresh notebooks, fresh starts, and moms chasing more.

8/22/25

Blubber by Judy Blume – Reading It for the First Time as a Mom

Confession: I wasn’t really a reader when I was younger.  I remember the cover but this was actually my first time reading Judy Blume’s Blubber. And wow coming to it now, as a mom, it hit me in ways I wasn’t expecting.

The story is raw and honest about bullying, teasing, and how kids can so easily switch roles, sometimes the victim, sometimes the instigator. And that part really stuck with me, because I have a son who’s not an angel. I know he’s been on both sides of this storyline. He’s hurt by kids, but also guilty of following the crowd or saying things he shouldn’t. And isn’t that the truth for so many kids? Adults too?

What makes Blubber so powerful and uncomfortable is that Judy Blume doesn’t wrap it up with a neat bow. No magical lesson where everyone learns to be kind overnight. Instead, it shows us how complicated those years really are, and how kids are still figuring themselves out sometimes in messy, painful ways.

Reading this for the first time as an adult made me think a lot about how bullying looks different now. Back then it was whispered jokes and playground dares. Today its group texts, Instagram, Snapchat and TikTok. The cruelty might move faster and reach further, but the root issues are still the same.

At the end of the day, Blubber isn’t just a book about kids being kids. It’s about the choices they make and the lessons we hope stick. As moms, we know our kids will probably find themselves on both sides of the fence, sometimes the one being left out, and sometimes the one forgetting what it feels like to be left out. That’s why we talk, even if they roll their eyes or pretend they’re not listening. Because one day whether they’re the kid holding the lunch tray or the one sitting alone at the table they just might remember Mom’s advice and choose kindness. And if not well, at least we tried and we’ll probably bring it up again at dinner.

I purchased my copy at the Dollar Tree. Run before it gets a RED Sticker!

8/21/25

No Wonder We’re Suffering Through Menopause.  "Not Mandatory"? 

I’ve been writing about menopause for a while now, ever since a friend mentioned that no one really talks about it. She was right so I ran with it. And today, I want to thank Melanie Sanders @ Just Being Melani for giving us a voice and unwittingly starting a movement. Thank you, Melanie, you cracked open the silence, and now we’re not shutting up. #WDNC

Ladies, grab your fan for the hot flashes, the cheaters that are probably already on your head and your coffee for the fatigue because you’re going to need them for this one.  Turns out, one of the biggest reasons so many of us feel like we’re navigating menopause with a blindfold and a broken GPS is, wait for it…because menopause education is not mandatory in medical school.

Yep. You read that right.  Doctors can graduate from some of the best schools in the country without ever taking a required class on perimenopause or menopause.  The reality is, most resident doctors across family medicine, internal medicine, and OB/GYN receive just under 10 hours of training in most cases of menopause education during their entire training. About 20% reported getting no education at all, and only a mere 7% felt prepared to treat menopausal patients. 

You’ve probably heard of prestigious schools like Harvard and Stanford. Here’s the scoop on what they DO NOT require.  Harvard Medical School offers a fantastic 5-day course on women’s health and menopause. Sounds great, right?  One catch, it’s an optional continuing medical education course. That means it’s designed for doctors who are already practicing, not for every medical student. You have to pay extra to take it and want to learn about menopause enough to sign up on your own. Stanford Medicine also has a Menopause & Healthy Aging Program with conferences, specialist training, and mentorship programs. Sounds amazing! But again all optional. You can go through med school and residency and never be required to take them.

When menopause hits, we are dealing with more than just hot flashes. Fatigue that makes toddler years look like a spa vacation, mood swings that could rival a teenager’s, brain fog so thick we forget why we walked into a room, pain in places we didn’t even know had names until they started aching.  Instead, when we finally drag ourselves into the doctor’s office seeking answers, relief, looking for clear, empathetic help, what do we often get?  “That’s normal at your age.”  “Try yoga.” "It’s all in your head."  My personal favorite after seeking relief from recurrent UTIs, “How much sex are you having? You need to use lubrication, they have amazing varieties available.”  I really couldn't help but laugh and then cried all the way to the car!

Our mothers and grandmothers had to just “tough it out” without Google, online communities, or the ability to say, “Hey, why am I sweating through my sheets at 3 AM?” But we? We’re in the #WDNC (We Do Not Care) Era. We’re done being quiet about symptoms. We’re not afraid to laugh about the fact that we’re Googling “Why does my hip hurt?” at 2 a.m., or posting memes about why we do not care that our pants are possibly on backwards (they were), or needing a nap before we’ve even had breakfast.

Menopause is a natural stage of life, but it’s also a complex medical transition that affects every part of our bodies.  Our hearts, bones, brains, and mental health. If doctors aren’t being required to learn about it, then no wonder so many of us feel like we’re figuring it out alone.  

It’s not about blaming doctors, it’s about pushing for better education so women in perimenopause and menopause aren’t left with guesswork, Google, and group chats as their primary medical resources.  Menopause affects 50% of the population, yet doctors aren’t systematically trained for it.  Inadequate training contributes to misdiagnosis, dismissal, or unnecessary treatments.

So to every woman reading this your symptoms are real, your struggles are valid, and your doctor should know more than your best friend’s Facebook post. But until med schools catch up, we’ll keep doing what we do best, sharing, laughing, surviving, and refusing to be ignored and maybe starting petitions because in the WDNC Era, we refuse to be ignored.

8/19/25

August Reset: Organizing the Chaos Before Fall

August feels like the “Sunday night” of summer.  School is creeping up, routines are calling, and moms everywhere are bracing for the shift from long, lazy days to color-coded calendars and carpool lanes.  The truth? An August reset isn’t about achieving Pinterest level perfection. It’s about setting attainable expectations because let’s be honest, the kids have their own feelings about school and "yay, homework!" isn’t one of them.

Every mom knows a reset doesn’t erase the chaos, it just makes it slightly more manageable. Some call it chaos, moms call it the new school year.  Gently  bring back bedtime.  Summer nights made bedtime a suggestion, not a rule. Start inching the clocks back before that first school morning slap of reality. Bonus: less zombie-like kids at the breakfast table.  Meal plan for the madness. Between school, sports, work, and activities, dinner can feel like a moving target. Shop for some easy meals, embrace “theme nights” Taco Tuesday saves lives, and don’t feel guilty about pizza Wednesday.  Mirror your calendar with the school calendar. There’s nothing like your kid announcing at 9 p.m., “I don’t have school tomorrow!” Save yourself the frantic late-night scroll on the district website. Write down closures, half-days, and conferences now.  Stockpile snacks. Kids transform into ravenous animals the second they walk in the door. Granola bars, string cheese, and pretzels may not be gourmet, but they’ll save you from “Mom, I’m starving!” thirty seconds after pick up.  Expect the unexpected. The best-laid plans? Totally subject to change. From forgotten chromebooks and permission slips to last-minute sports schedules, remember, you are the manager of chaos, and somehow, you always pull it off.

An August reset isn’t about perfect structure, it’s about creating just enough order to survive the beautiful chaos of fall. So here’s to new notebooks, a family calendar that might actually get used, and remembering that no matter how wild it gets, you’ve got this.

Amazon Back to School

8/17/25

Back to School: What I Wanted vs What I Got – 1984 Edition

Back-to-school shopping in 1984ish was a very different sport than it is today. There was no scrolling through endless “must-have” lists online or filling up a virtual cart while sipping iced coffee. Nope. Back then, it was all about what you wanted versus what you actually got.

Let’s start with the big one: I wanted the almighty Trapper Keeper. The holy grail of school organization, complete with Velcro closure and neon designs that screamed cool kid. What did I get? A marble composition notebook. Black and white. No pockets. No Velcro. No fun. That ended up being filled with multiplication tables written out in full 10 times each. Somehow, I still can’t remember what 8x6 is!

Books weren’t digital; they were actual, heavy books, so heavy they could double as free weights. And because they were school property, they were stealthily wrapped in brown paper grocery bags for protection. Bonus: the paper made a great canvas for doodles during boring lessons until you were caught and had to replace them for homework. 

I went to Catholic school, which meant there was zero need for “back-to-school outfits.” My uniform was the same every day. Plaid skirt. White shirt. Repeat. Pretty sure I picked out a few folders at some point, but they weren’t a fashion statement, they were just whatever was cheapest and sturdy enough to survive the year.

As the oldest of five with two of us in school and three in diapers I’m still amazed my mom managed to get us what we needed at all. She was running a household that could have doubled as a daycare center, yet somehow, we had our supplies, our lunches, and our sanity mostly and survived late night runs for clay for diagram projects that were left till the last minute.

Fast-forward to today, and back-to-school lists can feel endless. Half of it is necessary, half of it makes you wonder if the PTA has a side hustle with Amazon. And with budget constraints, and “only this specific brand” requests, sometimes you just get what you can get.

Oh, and FYI the Trapper Keepers have made a comeback. I may or may not have put one in my cart this year purely for nostalgia, of course.

Here’s to all the parents, teachers, and students braving another school year. Whether you’ve got the latest tech or a marble notebook, the magic isn’t in the supplies, it's in the people using them.

https://amzn.to/3HDqeqT

8/8/25

You packed the car like a pro. Only this time it’s not diaper bags, carriages, smelly sports equipment, pain stakingly packed suitcases for a family vacation, or six kids and only one was your own. Today, you double-checked the bedding, the shower caddy, and the 12-pack of ramen. You managed to keep it together when they said, “I think I’ve got everything,” even though you know they don’t.

And now here you are standing in a dorm room that smells like fresh paint and nerves, trying to look chill while your heart is doing a full-on ugly cry.  Let’s be honest, you’re about to say goodbye to the human you taught to use a spoon and wipe their own butt, now they’re about to learn how to do their own laundry and probably not right away.  Your way!

You might not sleep the night before.  You might cry in the car. You might show up with a label maker and they’ll pretend they don’t know you.  But listen, mom’s you did it. You raised a whole person who is brave enough to leave the nest and figure out who they are. That’s not just parenting, that’s magic.

And when you drive away with an empty seat beside you and a full heart behind you, know this, you’re not alone. We’re all out here, holding back tears and Googling “how often is too often to text a college freshman.”

I’ve only watched my baby board a school bus three days after he turned three, and now somehow he’s in eighth grade.  Tears will be shed, curfews broken, and the inevitable “can you drive us”, or “can you pick me up” will be in my near future .  All of these moments will lead me to the very room you’re standing in now where I will be ugly crying.

So go ahead. Feel all the feels. Eat the snacks they left behind. And know that even though your kid is growing up your title of “Mom” is forever.  You’ve got this.

Amazon College Bound Essentials

8/3/25

Some families pass down recipes. Ours? We pass down beach hot dog parties.

When we were little, my mom would tell us stories of her grandfather, Pop, lugging a big pot of steaming hot dogs to the beach. No fancy setup. No Pinterest worthy picnic. Just hot dogs, buns, and a bunch of sandy kids chasing waves. She made it sound like the ultimate summer feast. I swear, in her retelling, that hot dog pot had the magic of a campfire and the allure of a five star buffet. 

The way she described it, you’d think Pop was a culinary hero, doling out franks like Willy Wonka hands out golden tickets. But somehow, despite spending summers at the same beach myself, I don’t remember ever having a beach hot dog party. Not one. Just stories, retold like folklore.

Then, life did that full circle thing.  Mom became a grandma.  And wouldn’t you know it suddenly we were hauling beach chairs, sand toys, and yes, a pot of hot dogs down to the beach. They say good things come to those who wait.  After my niece and nephew had their beach hot dog debut, it was finally my turn.  It was everything I hoped for and my little guy loved it just as much as I did! It was our very own hot dog revival, still not Pinterest worthy but complete with fancy iced tea glasses, sand-filled diapers, leaky baby bottles, and a toddler double-fisting buns and beach pebbles.

Watching my mom beam as she handed out hot dogs to her grandkids just like Pop did for her was pure joy. She’d made it. She was the hot dog matriarch now.

The kids didn’t care that the hot dogs were a little overcooked, or that the buns were half-squashed, they were just looking for the ketchup. They were too busy making memories. The kind you tell your own kids about one day preferably while holding a hot dog with a little sand on it.

So here’s to beach hot dog parties, nostalgic, slightly chaotic, and absolutely perfect. May the tradition live on, one sandy frank at a time.

7/26/25

Ah, the family-and-friends beach vacation. The dream, the chaos, the sunscreen-slicked reality. We packed our bags, loaded the SUVs, and caravanned in stop and go beach traffic down the highway with high hopes and even higher stress levels. Here’s how it went down, in case you’re considering doing the same.

Packing for a beach week is like a game of roulette. I had to pack every t-shirt, tank top, and pair of shorts I owned  for "just in case". The same pair of shorts were worn all week. My son packed himself, and that’s why he only had three pairs of socks and three pairs of underwear for seven days. Math is obviously his least favorite subject. Phone chargers, I got them, a freezer size ziplock back full. Beach towels, I got them, enough for the entire block.  There’s something for everyone in the 17 bags of groceries. Oh, and bedding, pillows, blankets, and sheets because why would they be included in a beach rental. 

There’s something about arriving at a beach house that makes everyone lose their minds. Even if you’ve been to the same one three years running. Room assignments change, who’s going to be where this year, PlayStations get unpacked and bathrooms get staked out.  The fridge gets stocked with “beverages” and the coffee gets put on its throne. 

“What do you guys want for dinner?” Cue: 10 blank stares, 4 different pizza orders, 2 I already ate at the boardwalk cousins, and a rogue dad who’s already had a “liquid” dinner. By night three the moms gave up and started serving charcuterie boards made of crackers, chips, dips and sips. The only true villains of vacation, Laundry and Dishes. “Beach tan, laundry. Beach tan, dishes.” That was the routine. And still, someone’s kid (my kid) wore the same wet towel all week.

Miracles do happen, the teens actually got along. They played Wii Golf tournaments, shared and made TikToks, board games, and even watched the sunset without whining. We briefly questioned whether they had formed a cult, but decided not to ruin the moment. Also, the cute boys next door? Not cute. Not helpful. And no, they did not have a sister for your 13-year-old cousin.

Let’s be honest. The moms overdid it. By day four, we were either passed out in beach chairs (me) or leading karaoke battles.  Shoutout to the family friend who brought her karaoke microphone machine and turned the deck into a concert venue. It was truly a highlight of the trip and there is video to prove it.  Not only did she entertain the entire house, but also most of the block.  I’ll never be able to listen to Flo Rida’s, Low the same again. “The Reebok with the straps (with the straps) will indefinitely bring a smile to my face. The dad who hates the beach spent most of the week asking when it was time to go home.  He refused to take his socks and shoes off at the beach but he was there though, in spite of his disdain for all beach and boardwalk activities, he was there.  

The exit was fast.  Packing to go home took minutes after three cups of coffee and one more round of dishes.  No organization, leftover snacks were divided, someone forgot their phone charger and someone found the HDMI cable they forgot last year.  We were tired and ready to go home.  Would we do it again? Absolutely.  Do we need a full year to recover? Without question. A beach house with teens who got along, tipsy moms, one beach hating dad, rogue karaoke, and virtual sports championships! 10/10 chaotic, unforgettable, and somehow perfect.  See you next summer. Maybe with enough  karaoke microphones for everyone.

7/23/25

Why I Look Like Baby #4 Is Due at 52? It’s not our fault. Our body’s just pivoting into “pregnant-looking fat deposit mode” without the baby.

Why the Belly of Doom?  When estrogen levels dip during perimenopause and menopause, your body does a Grade-A betrayal. Fat Redistribution! Thanks to reduced estrogen  fat storage shifts from hips and thighs inward, stocking up in the belly especially the visceral fat around organs.  Slowed Metabolism!  Muscle mass declines, metabolic rate drops, and suddenly cookies and ice cream at midnight matter again when they didn’t used to.  Hormonal Appetite Shifts!  Lower estrogen messes with leptin and appetite signals thank you, hunger hormones, so you eat like “why not?” and gain like “oh no.”  You haven’t changed your routine.  You haven’t done anything wrong. You aren’t having a secret baby at 52.  You’re just hormonally designated by biology to shift your fat stash to your midsection.

If your jeans button a little higher these days, you’re in good fluffy company. Menopause belly fat is biological, not behavioral.  So laugh, live, and wear those stretchy pants with pride because you’re not hiding a baby bump, you’re raising hell, maybe grandkids, or a teenager! We Do Not Care about shrinking waistlines, vacation diets, or the discouraging nip in our jeans. But maybe we should care a little… because what’s popping up in our midsection isn’t just an extra snack it’s hormonally driven inflation.

7/23/25

Let’s talk about compliments, not the “You’re glowing!” kind you got during pregnancy. Not even the “You’re such a great mom” ones from strangers at Target when you’re wrangling toddlers and a cart full of snacks. Nope, I mean the husband compliments. The ones you think might be compliments but need a minute and possibly a translator to confirm.

Like today. My husband complimented my pedicure. Not because it was fresh since it’s eight weeks old, but because he liked the color. This moment of recognition happened after I dragged him to the beach which he famously hates and would rather be having a root canal and still, he noticed my toes. A win is a win.

Sometimes they’re subtle, “Dinner was great” means I’m so glad you cooked. I didn’t want cereal again.
“Did we get new curtains?” Means something in this house changed and I actually noticed. That’s growth.

And sometimes the compliment isn’t even in words. It’s when they clean up dinner without being asked. When they tell you let’s just order pizza for dinner. When they take the kids out so you can have 20 glorious, silent minutes alone. When they sit through one of your many favorite shows without audible sighing.

It’s not always romantic, and it’s rarely poetic, but here’s the truth, they see us. Maybe not the way we want to be seen, but in their own husband-y way we’re seen.

So the next time your partner says something vaguely nice, pause. Squint. Rewind it in your head. And just maybe… take it as a compliment. Even if it’s about your 8-week-old pedicure.

Because mom, you’re doing amazing and somewhere in there, they know it.

7/10/25

Unpopular Opinion: Clean Is Not the Same as Messy Is Not the Same as Lived-In
Spoiler: Cleaning Might Actually Be My Superpower (Or My Last Grip on Sanity)

Let’s talk about cleaning. Or as I like to call it: the never-ending game of “Whose socks are these and why are they under the couch?” 

Whether your home is spotless, a little messy, or totally lived-in it’s all acceptable. If it works for your family, that’s what really matters.  Unpopular opinion: Clean, messy, and lived-in are not the same thing.  Everyone has opinions but yours is the one that counts.

Some people walk into your home and say, “Wow, it’s so clean!” Hahaha, meanwhile, there’s a pile of crusty plates and a frying pan in the sink, 47 rogue chew toys, and soap on the stairs that everyone walked past since the last time you went to the store, a mysterious smell coming from the fridge but most likely from the dog. But because the floor was vacuumed and the couch cushions are fluffed? Clean? Yes!

Then there’s messy. Which, in my world, means we survived another weekday without anyone crying over a missing basketball, basketball uniform or a Playstation controller. It looks like chaos, but it’s functional chaos. That pile of unfolded laundry? That's a filing system.  Clean?  Yes!

And then there's lived-in. Which is mom-code for “We definitely eat here, sleep here, yell here, and cry in the bathroom here.” A lived-in home is full of life, crumbs, fingerprints, and unmatched Tupperware lids. Clean?  Yes!  It’s not dirty. It’s real life. 

Our home is the trifecta of unpopular opinion.  I’m one of those moms who actually finds cleaning therapeutic. I know, I know, I don’t always want to do it but when I do, I suddenly remember my own name, start thinking clearly again, and feel like I could run for PTA president or start a side hustle organizing other people’s closets. It’s like wiping down a counter also wipes down my brain fog.  On any given day we can be washing dirty forks from the dishwasher for dinner and moving piles of “things” to sit down for dinner.  Clean?  Yes! It’s real life.

Whether you’re a SAHM, working mom, or a working from the laundry room while hiding from your kids mom, just know whatever your version of clean is, it counts. If it works for your family, it’s perfect.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to fold a load of laundry that’s been “marinating” in the dryer for three days. Clean? Yes but most likely wrinkled. Guess who doesn’t own an iron?

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7/8/25

"Bored? Not on My Watch! Fun, Cheap Ways to Entertain Little Kids Without Losing Your Mind (or Your Wallet)"

If you’ve heard the phrase “I’m booooored” one too many times this week, welcome to the club, Mama. It’s summer, school’s out, and your little bundles of energy suddenly have no idea what to do with themselves except follow you around like tiny shadows begging for snacks and screen time.  If you’re lucky enough to have a teen that sleeps past noon and suddenly becomes your shadow right around dinner time these will work for you too.

Don’t worry, you don’t need a trip to Disneyland or a cart full of overpriced craft supplies from the store to turn things around. You just need a few clever, low-cost tricks to beat the "I'm bored" blues and save your sanity.

Build a Fort in the house, in the yard, on the deck, under the deck.  Grab all the essential things, snacks, towels, snacks, blankets, snacks, pillows, snacks, twinkle lights, snacks, board games, snacks.  You get it right? It's all about the snacks.  We spent an entire 

summer with a fort in the living room. It was a sight to behold. Pro Tip, if you have a dog, make sure the snacks are secured in your least expensive tupperware.

Make a Backyard Obstacle Course. Use pool noodles, sidewalk chalk, a jump rope, and your patio furniture. Tell your kids it’s American Ninja Warrior: Backyard Edition. This was fun when my son was younger.  Now he’s a real life American Ninja Warrior since he’s correctly calculated the distance from the garage roof to the pool! Winner gets an extra popsicle! 

The Boredom Jar is really fun.  Write a bunch of fun and sneaky-productive ideas on slips of paper, think build a fort, draw a treasure map, sock puppet show or where are we going for lunch today and have them draw one whenever boredom strikes. Bonus if you include helping mom fold laundry for laughs. 

Water Day, Every Day.  If it’s hot out, grab a sprinkler, some sponges, and a few bowls. Let the kids “wash” their bikes, dolls, or even your feet. You get to sit. They get soaked. Everyone wins.  

Kitchen Science.  Baking soda and vinegar volcano? Yes. Making Oobleck with cornstarch and water? Double yes. Homemade Chalk? Yes, Yes, Yes. You likely already have the ingredients, and kids will think it’s magic. I personally have a lifetime ban on glitter in my house but to each their own.  

Nature Treasure Hunt Create a simple list, Find something red, something round, something that flies and let them explore the yard or park like mini explorers or while walking the dog. Just don’t forget the snacks and bug spray.

You don’t have to spend a lot to make memories. With a dash of creativity and a pinch of humor, boredom doesn’t stand a chance. You’ve got this, Mama!  Now go hide in the bathroom for five minutes of peace while they build a pillow mountain in the living room.

7/7/25

We do not care if our thighs jiggle when we limp across the room.  We do not care if our hips sound like popcorn when we stand up.  And we definitely do not care if someone thinks we’re walking funny because we are. And it hurts.

We are the proud members of the #WDNC Club — We Do Not Care.  Thank you Melani for giving us a voice. 

Welcome to the glamorous world of gluteal tendinopathy, inner thigh twinges, and mystery hip pain that appeared out of nowhere like a raccoon in your laundry room.  These symptoms are the kind no one talks about during menopause. But we do. Loudly. And usually with a heating pad and a fan blowing directly on us.   We’re not just dealing with changing hormones we’re doing it while dragging one leg behind us and pretending we didn’t just wince getting out of the car.

Menopause. The magical time in a woman’s life where your hormones take a vacation, your sleep disappears, and your body throws daily tantrums just for existing.

Today, we’re focusing on something that sounds like a CrossFit injury but actually happened while reaching for the remote or your 5th cup of coffee for the day. Gluteal Tendinopathy aka: “Why does my butt hurt and I didn’t even move weird?”  Bonus round: inner thigh pain because menopause doesn’t believe in boundaries.

We’ve got muscles on the outside of your hips called hip abductors gluteus medius & minimus, and muscles on the inside called adductors inner thigh crew. Together, they’re the push-pull squad that stabilizes your pelvis.  In midlife or whenever your body decides you’ve you had estrogen they turn into bitter exes who no longer speak, and your tendons throw protests anytime you walk, lie on your side, or attempt to put on pants

Gluteal Tendinopathy.  This delightful condition causes achy pain on the outside of your hip and butt. Increased pain when lying on that side so bye sleep, stiffness when walking or standing too long,  and a sharp spike in dramatic sighing and limp-walking.  It’s very common in perimenopausal women because estrogen has left the building and it took collagen, tendon strength, and your patience with it.

But Wait there’s more!  Why Does My Inner Thigh Hurt Too?  Excellent question, fellow club member of weird pain.  This one puts me down for the count two to three times a month. She’s a sneaky bitch and shows up when you least expect her. She wasn’t invited to the beach vacation, but she’s coming. Turns out, your inner thigh muscles, the adductors, often get overworked because your glutes are slacking off. It’s like a toxic work team, one side checks out, and the other does all the heavy lifting. Cue the inner thigh tightness, groin pain, or even a weird twinge while sitting. So now, walking the dog or standing in Target for 30 minutes equals pulled muscle vibes.

You’re not alone and no you’re not broken. You’re just in the “perma-sore for no reason” phase of life, where sleep doesn’t heal anything and foam rollers are both friends and enemies.  Menopause fatigue is bad enough. Now we have butt pain and thigh drama too?  If you’re randomly limping, walking like a duck, or using walls to help you get up, congrats, you’re officially in the “Menopause: Deluxe Edition.”  But hey, if your glutes and thighs are going to complain, at least we can laugh about it. Because we’ve birthed babies, raised humans, and survived school pick-up lines. We can definitely survive cranky tendons with a heat pack and a strong meme game.

Sources available upon request.

6/28/25

Swinging into a New Season. Your Teen Outgrows Baseball Camp

There it was, printed on the family calendar like it had been every June for the past eight summers Baseball Camp 9AM. Only this year it was crossed out. Not because we were double-booked or going on vacation. Nope. This year, my son looked at me with the confidence that only a 13-year-old boy who just discovered Jean Paul Gaultier cologne and sarcasm can muster and said, “I’m good” and just like that, we’ve officially entered the era of Too Cool for Camp.

No more packing cleats and skittles. No more stained pants, dropped gloves, or “Did you remember your cup?” reminders shouted from the car window. No more sunburnt bleachers or cheering on kids you have known as long as you’ve known your own. 

I honestly thought I’d be thrilled to have one less thing on the summer schedule.  But I miss it. And I miss him. The boy who looked forward to playing but had to be dragged out of bed, who practiced his “home run trot” in our kitchen, and who once cried because he didn’t make the Travel team. 

He’s in a new era of his own. He’s into other things. Music. Battling with old friends. Making new friends. Sleeping until 11 or later. Rolling his eyes and asking why “I’m being so Fiesty”. 

It’s bittersweet and weirdly beautiful to watch your kid slowly walk away from something they used to love. Not because it wasn’t great but because they’re growing, changing, and finding new passions.

So this summer, instead of cheering from the sidelines, I’ll be silently rooting him on as he navigates the new playing field of teenagehood.

It’s not always as charming as Little League, but there’s still snacks.

P.S. If you need me, I’ll be in the garage hugging his old glove and sniffing it like a weirdo.

Play ball, buddy. In whatever field you choose. 💙⚾️

6/26/25

 Self-Care Routine That Actually Works And Yes, It Includes a Bathing Suit and a Dishwasher.  Welcome to my personal summer daily routine. It’s weird. It’s wonderful. It works.  Let’s talk about self-care, shall we? Not the “book a silent retreat in the Himalayas” kind. Not even the “buy a jade roller from the Dollar Tree and pretend you know how to use it” kind. I’m talking about real-life mom self-care, the kind that gets squeezed between laundry cycles, coffee sips, and questionable snack choices.

Coffee First so nobody gets hurt.  Before anything else, coffee. This is not a drill. It’s not just self-care, it’s self-preservation. I star in my very own Foldgers commercial by lovingly cradling my mug like it’s the last warm thing on Earth while I stare out the window like a 90s sitcom mom contemplating life choices.  

GRWM into a bathing suit.  The Adam Sandler look is now reserved for rainy days. My summer uniform of choice? A bathing suit. Because why not and nothing says “I’m about to crush this day” like preparing to jump in the pool or run through a sprinkler like a toddler. The bathing suit also works for running errands around town. I would suggest a cute “coordinating” coverup or housecoat.  Coordinating is only a suggestion since the dryer is probably still going.

Laundry Load = Sanity Load.  Ah yes, the subtle hum of the washing machine modern motherhood’s version of meditation music. Starting a load makes me feel like I’ve already accomplished something amazing, even if I’m still in flip-flops and wet hair.  The pool towels are not going to wash and dry themselves.

Skincare, because my face deserves better than dish soap.  I wash, moisturize, and apply SPF 100 to my face, not because I’m headed to a spa, but because my face has been exposed to the elements for 52 years and it's never too late to help it not look like shoe leather even when it already does and it feels like one tiny, five-minute rebellion against chaos. 

Load the dishwasher like I’m on Chopped Mom Edition.  First to be loaded, the dinner dishes. Yes, the dinner dishes! Can I fit one more mug in here? Oh, you better believe it. Loading the dishwasher is my version of the Jenga Game. One rule is you load TOP down, (unload BOTTOM up) points for creativity and the occasional pretend cooking show commentary.

Finally, I jump in the pool.  Yes, every day unless of course I make it to the beach.  Almost like clockwork. The pool is peaceful at this hour since the teen is still sleeping. It’s my “shower,” my “workout,” and my “mental health break” all rolled into one. If the kids join me, great. If not? Even better.  Just kidding. Kind of.  I have friends (really)  who have no problem joining me for a dip and a cocktail.

This works because it’s real. It’s not aspirational. It’s functional.  It includes caffeine, chores, fresh air, and just enough skincare to pretend I have it together. The kids may be on summer break but the house doesn't run itself.  It’s not about perfection. It’s about prioritizing joy in the chaos.

So if you need permission to create a self-care routine that includes coffee, cleaning, and cannonballs here it is. You're welcome! Self-care doesn't have to be glamorous. It just has to make you feel human again.  And maybe a little bit fabulous in your swimsuit. 

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6/26/25

Broke But Breezy: Budget-Friendly Summer Fun for the Whole Family

Summer is here, your kids are bouncing off the walls, and your wallet is sobbing quietly in the corner. Don’t worry you don’t need a luxury cruise or a second mortgage to make summer memories that don’t involve watching reruns and eating popsicles for dinner though no judgment—we’ve been there.

Here are some wildly fun, questionably educational, and totally budget-friendly summer ideas for the whole family:

Backyard Camping aka Sleeping Outside But Close Enough to Use the Bathroom. Pitch a tent in the backyard. Roast marshmallows over the grill. Tell ghost stories that end with, “…and then the Wi-Fi stopped working!” Best part? No bears. Unless your toddler wakes up hangry at 3am or your teen and his camping crew think they can go on a midnight scavenger hunt.

DIY Splash Park.  Sprinkler? Check. Slip n’ Slide made from a tarp and dish soap? Check. Officially tested and approved. Although I would recommend a softer spot! Hose battles that accidentally soak your neighbor’s cat? Double check. It’s a full-on waterpark 

minus the $15 hot dogs. Until the perfectly timed ice cream truck pulls up out of nowhere. 

Library Adventure Days.  These were fun when my son didn’t know how to read! Perfect for littles and your future scholars. Libraries are air-conditioned AND free, two of our favorite things. Sign up for summer reading programs, check out a stack of books taller than your child, and enjoy story time while pretending you don’t hear your toddler chewing the corner of The Very Hungry Caterpillar. The late fees also won’t break the bank!

Family Field Day.  This one is on my list this year. I can’t wait for the first teen pool party of the year. Three-legged race, egg-and-spoon challenge, and the classic “Mom tries to hula hoop” competition while keeping teen boys from launching themselves off the roof into the pool.  Loser does the dishes. It won’t be me!  Winner gets bragging rights and the last popsicle or an iced coffee. 

Movie Marathon.  But Make It Educational.  We’re doing Adam Sandler this summer. It’s never too early to learn how to use a rope swing. Call it a “cinematic cultural study.” Pop popcorn, build a pillow fort, and make it a double feature. Bonus: share something you did as a kid that relates to your cinematic study. Unless it was that one time you ….

DIY Ice Cream Bar.  Buy store-brand ice cream and raid the pantry for toppings. Gummy bears? Go for it. Crushed cereal? Why not? I can’t wait to see what kind of concoction my husband comes with. Think bacon bites! A sprinkle of crushed dignity as your kid dumps hot sauce on theirs? Priceless only if you leave the dishes for the morning.

The bottom line is you don’t need big bucks for big fun. Stock the fridge with water, juice boxes, and ice pops. If you’re lucky enough to have a teen you may get 5 minutes to 5 hours of peace when they ride off into the sunset to make their own fun. All it takes is a little creativity, a sense of humor, and the ability to accept that your kids are probably going to break something. Happy summering!

6/13/25

Summer Mom Guilt Is Real  So What Can We Do About It?

You know that magical summer we all imagine? The one with daily crafts, healthy popsicles, screen-free adventures, and perfectly packed beach days? Yeah I don’t live there either.

Instead, my summer often looks like this: my teenage son has slept till 1pm, he has watched more YouTube and Tik Tok videos than sunscreen has been applied, I “meal prep” by microwaving leftover pizza or Uber Eating BK. I promise beach days... and then it’s 94° with a heat index of nope. We can swim in our own pool!

Cue the guilt.

Summer Mom Guilt is a real thing. We want to make every moment magical and memory-worthy  but we’re also sweaty, tired, and trying to answer emails while digging sand out of our car mats. It’s a lot.

So what can we do about it? Lower the bar. Our kids don’t need a Pinterest-perfect summer. They need snacks, occasional supervision, and a mom who isn’t sobbing into her iced coffee.  Schedule the bare minimum fun. One pool day. One popsicle taste test. Boom. You’re a summer legend.  Rebrand screen time. Call it “independent learning” or “restorative downtime.” You’re not lazy, you're supporting their digital literacy.  Take care of YOU. A happy-ish mom is 10x more fun than a burnt-out cruise director.  Remember Boredom builds creativity. When they say, “I’m bored,” smile and say, “Perfect. Go be bored somewhere else.” Don’t forget to snap a few pictures so you remember how much fun they actually did have!

So let’s ditch the guilt and embrace a realistic summer, messy, imperfect, and full of memories that don’t need to be scrapbooked to count.

You’re doing great. Now go reheat that pizza.

6/8/25

National Best Friends Day

We met in kindergarten thanks to the kids. What started as small talk over juice boxes, arranging playdates, small talk at the never ending cycle of pickup and drop off turned into real friendships. The kids? They’ve switched or been “dropped” from their ever changing and evolving friend groups more than we’ve switched coffee for wine.  I’d love to see them all one day come full circle back to where their friendships started, a mom can always dream! But some mom friends stay true through tantrums, tween drama, popped pool floats, the kids LWK nonsense drama and emergency texts. That’s the Mom Friends Code: show up, support, don’t judge, and always bring a drink coffee for chaos, wine for wins, and tequila for survival. So here’s to the ones who’ve stuck around you’re the real MVPs. It’s truly amazing to have mom friends in your corner through the ever changing seasons of tween and teen drama. We always seem to be here for each other with open arms and probably a drink.

6/4/25

School’s Out! 10 Sanity-Saving Summer Routines for Moms
Because survival is the goal, and peace is the prize.

Ahh, summer. That magical time when kids are home 24/7, they have company, snacks vanish like air, and your name gets said every 4.2 seconds and you’re on your 10th load of pool towls. But don’t panic, just routine it! Or try too! Whether you're chasing toddlers or bribing teens out of bed, here are 10 one-line routines to save your summer and your sanity this summer.

For Toddler Moms:

1. Snack Station Setup: Pre-fill a bin with mom-approved snacks they can grab without yelling your name.
   Tip: Use a low shelf they can reach—independence = freedom.
   
   

2. Outside by 9 AM Rule: Morning energy gets burned, not bottled.
   Tip: Kiddie pool, chalk, or bubbles. Repeat daily.
   
   

3. Color Time After Lunch: A quiet half-hour to catch your breath or scroll in peace.
   Tip: Rotate coloring books weekly to keep interest fresh.
   
   

4. Daily Toy Roundup at 4 PM: Make cleanup part of the routine before the evening chaos begins.
   Tip: Use a song—cleanup time becomes a mini dance party.
   
   

5. Early Bath & Pajamas Routine: Wind them down before they melt down.
   Tip: Bath by 6:30 PM = less resistance.

For Teen Moms:

6. "You Wake, You Bake" Morning Rule: Whoever wakes up last makes breakfast.
   Tip: Encourages earlier wake-ups (or at least less whining).
   
   

7. Chore Chart Texted on Sundays: No surprises, no excuses.
   Tip: Include rewards—teens work well on bribery.
   
   

8. Daily Screen-Free Hour: Use the Wi-Fi password as leverage.
   Tip: Suggest alternatives like driving practice, workouts, or reading.
   
   

9. Dinner Duty Rotation: Teens cook once a week—yes, even if it’s cereal night.
   Tip: It builds responsibility (and gives you a break).I’ll let you know how this one works out.
   
   

10. Friday Chill Nights: Weekly pizza, movie, or game night to connect without lectures.
    Tip: Let them pick the movie—you’ll earn cool mom points.
    
    

You’ve got this, mama. Set the tone, sprinkle in some structure, and let summer be wild on your terms. 🌞✨

5/28/25

Why Moms and Dads Are So Exhausted 

If you’re a mom, chances are you’re tired. Not just “I need a nap” tired but soul-deep, mentally fried, emotionally stretched, fighting chronic diseases, relationship (lack thereof) issues, menopausal, postpartum, physically wiped out tired. And if you’re feeling that way, you’re not alone and not just a mom because dads are feeling it too. 

Motherhood comes with a unique blend of visible and invisible responsibilities that are hard to explain, let alone keep up with. And while we often joke about needing more coffee or hiding in the pantry for five minutes of peace, the reality is we’re running on empty. Motherhood doesn’t come with a punch-out time.  Being able to stay home is something I’m deeply thankful for. Even when we’re still, our brains are running. What's for dinner, Did I sign that field trip form, Who’s got the dentist this week, When did I last wash my hair, Did I feed the dog?!  This is the mental load, and it’s real. Add to that the emotional labor of making sure everyone in the house is okay often while ignoring our own needs and it’s no wonder we’re mentally and emotionally spent.

Whether you’re chasing toddlers or teens, working in or outside the home, or both moms rarely get to sit still. I don’t take for granted the chance to stay home and focus on my family.  We’re multitasking machines: answering emails while folding laundry, stirring dinner while helping with homework, playstation IT support, replying to texts from the PTA while wrangling bedtime routines.

We’re constantly doing, even when we’re exhausted. And rest? Real rest? It’s rare.  We juggle roles: mother, partner, worker, friend, nurse, therapist, cook, cleaner, and scheduler-in-chief. We feel guilty if we work, guilty if we don’t, guilty if we take a break, guilty if we don’t enjoy every moment and completely invisible when we finally admit, “I’m struggling.”

Here’s what we often forget: dads and partners are exhausted too.

Sure, their struggles might look different and yes, in many households, moms still carry the heavier emotional and household load but that doesn’t mean men aren’t feeling the pressure.

My husband, like many dads, works long hours to provide, balancing fatherhood with career ambition, learning how to be more emotionally present than generations before, struggling to express their needs in a world that tells them to “man up.”  They carry their own invisible burdens, the pressure to stay strong, hold it all together, be the “fixer,” and never complain.

We’re all just trying to get through the day with a little grace (and maybe a snack we don’t have to share) . We won't solve burnout with a beer or a bubble bath though hey, it couldn’t hurt. We can talk about it honestly. Let go of perfection. Share the load more evenly. Ask for help without shame. Support each other without judgment because moms are tired, dads are tired, people are tired.  Let’s stop pretending we’re fine when we’re not and start building a culture where rest, support, and real conversations are the norm, not the exception.

5/19/25

24 Years of Marriage: Just Breathe

Today marks 24 years of marriage. This year we definitely tested “in sickness and in health.” Twenty-four years of laughter, love, lessons, crying (me) and let’s be real a few loud debates over thermostat settings, who left the kitchen light on (me always me), and “how many Amazon packages did we get today?” (NOT only me). We’ve lived a lot of life in those years. We’ve built a family, raised a wild and wonderful lazy and late for his own funeral 13-year-old with the best negotiation skills on the planet, welcomed the world’s most lazy, loyal, and expensive golden retriever into our chaos, and somehow managed to keep choosing each other through it all. His line is, “I have no choice”, but he does and he keeps choosing us.

Marriage isn’t always picture perfect. It’s complicated, messy, about compromises, funny, frustrating, comforting, and wildly unpredictable, kind of like parenting, except with fewer snacks, more adult beverages and more laundry. But through every challenge, we’ve grown stronger. We’ve fought, made up, and held onto the one thing that really matters: love.

He works so hard to keep our world spinning day in and day out, giving everything he has so our family is safe and secure. And me? I do my very best not to drive him crazy, the keyword is try.  Maybe I’ll master the vacuum lines in the carpet in the next 24 years.  He deserves a medal for patience. And I deserve a trophy for keeping the rest of it together even when I’m frazzled, which is daily.

To my partner in parenting, dog parenting, budgeting, dreaming, and surviving the teen years thank you. For sharing your garage space, patiently waiting for me to get to the point, and the life you have built for us. I love you. Always. Even when I forget to say it. Even when we don’t agree. Even when life is loud.

Here’s to 24 years of us. The real us. Perfectly imperfect, fiercely loyal, and forever figuring it out together.

I love you, “as I should!”

5/11/25

Raising Us Her Way (Whether We Liked It or Not)

Growing up with our mom was like being drafted into a very intense boot camp—except instead of camouflage, we wore hand-me-downs from our siblings, and instead of push-ups, we did chores. A lot of chores, I still detest doing the dishes!  Most of the time we did what we were told!

As the oldest of five, I had the unique privilege of being the “practice child” and the unpaid assistant. I thought of myself as the substitute Mom. I helped with my younger siblings while simultaneously being raised myself. I was of course the built-in babysitter. I know they hated it, I secretly loved it and still call them “the kids”.  The baby is 42!  It was confusing. And exhausting. But mostly confusing.

I am sure mom had a plan for us. All of us. Whether we were athletic, artistic, allergic to effort it didn’t matter. She had a vision. We were going to be polite, responsible, productive members of society who didn’t slam the fridge door or waste paper towels.  In the end her vision became a reality. Except, I still waste paper towels. 

Somehow, despite her best-laid plans and chore demands, we all turned out completely different.  I’d like to say we’re a family of doctors, professors, and lawyers, but we’re not. We’re just a regular bunch of adults with our own visions. Each one of us took a different path. Some paths were harder and longer to get us where we are today as a family. The good news is the winding roads and steep cliffs all lead home. Believe it or not we all still speak to each other so she must have done something right.

Mom is strong. Like, “cut your sandwich with a look” strong. She’s opinionated, passionate, will hijack your conversation, set in her ways, and has no idea what “gentle parenting” is and doesn’t want to. She still critiques some of our choices with the “look” and thinks gluten intolerance is a government hoax.  But here’s the thing, she always showed up for us.  Especially during the bad times. 

She taught me how to shop for things I want but don’t necessarily need, because hey treat yourself, how to balance a checkbook which I still do every month with a pencil, and how to be the kind of mom I didn’t even know I was capable of being. Truthfully, I didn’t always want to be this kind of mom, the kind who gives a look, or who yells about shoes by the door, or screams up the stairs . But here I am her daughter doing all of it, and then some.  I tried “gentle parenting” and it didn’t work for me, it was a hard swallow on the, “I told you so” from mom. 

And yes, I’ve officially become her. I’ve heard myself say to my own child, “Do you want me to call Grandma?” in that same threatening-yet-mystical tone. And it works. Every time. Because the legend of Grandma’s discipline lives on. 

She drives us crazy but she’s also the reason we aren’t completely lost.  So here’s to my mom the woman who raised five wildly different humans, mostly by sheer force of will, coffee, and cigarettes. 

And yes, Mom, we love you… even if we still don’t fold towels the “right” way. Yesterday, I spent the morning with my mom doing something we haven’t done in a long time. We got “Mommy and Me” makeovers at Clinique. We bought things we wanted and didn’t necessarily need of course but the best part was just being together. I love you Mom, Thank You for everything and Happy Mother’s Day. 

5/4/25

From Lobster to Lifeguard: A Tale of Two Sunburns

Back in the 70s and 80s, I was the textbook definition of a fair-haired, beach-bound child. My skin was so pale it reflected sunlight like a disco ball. My mom would diligently apply the current SPF on the market at the time.  I can still smell that OG Coppertone today. Still one hour into the beach day, Lobster. By sunset? Back at grandmas, hiding in fear and anticipation of seeing the blue and white can being pulled from the cabinet. Solarcaine!  After that initial sting of freezing cold pelting your skin the relief set in and I was ready to do it all over again the next day. 

I’d arrive at the beach with one lonely freckle on my nose and leave looking like a Connect-the-Dots puzzle. My mom would slap on some sweet scented cream and then send me into the ocean for 6 hours straight.  She’d only call me out to reapply but it was the 80s, SPF was a suggestion not a rule and not as effective as it is today. 

Fast forward to 2011. Now I’m the mom, standing on the sand armed like a sunscreen ninja. Sprays, tubes, and roll-ons. My kid? Also blonde. Also fair. He's basically laminated in SPF 50 every 45 minutes, wearing a UV shirt, sun hat, sunglasses, and hiding under a pop-up tent the size of a small apartment complex.

He whines, “But I wanna go in the water!”

I shout back, “Not until this layer dries! DO YOU WANT TO PEEL?!”

And just like that, I realize: I’ve become the sunscreen overlord. I can rule my mini me since I am fully aware of the consequences. 

Moral of the story? In the 80s, we got burned. Some of us still do today even with strategically planned burn prevention. I got my first “you were right mom” when my son was around 10 and thought he was prepared to be his own sunscreen overlord. Yes, he felt the burn and slow sting and relief of that blue and white can. I may have been saying I told you so silently to myself as I was holding the can 3-5 inches from the affected area. 

Our kids may never understand the stinging betrayal of an afternoon sunburn but that’s OK. They’ll still get freckles. Just regulated ones.

4/27/25

Are you tired? Yes! Well so am I and guess why?  You guessed it; Menopause.

Remember the baby phase? You were up every two hours, surviving on caffeine and crumbs.  You’re tired because you’re feeding, rocking, pacing, pumping, repeating.  The toddler years? When you were sprinting after tiny humans while eating the chicken nuggets they already had in their mouth for dinner. You’re tired because you haven’t sat down in 3 years.  The teenage years? You’re tired from the emotional whiplash, late-night “Can you pick me up?” texts, and “Why is your door locked?” moments. I’m only three years into the teen years. Based on the emotions my teen has struggled with so far, my increasing hot flash “episodes”, and a special brand of mood swings, we are headed for a bumpy ride. We, my husband included, are physically and emotionally exhausted. The only one sleeping is the teen.

Let’s talk about menopause fatigue and why it hits like a hormonal truck.  You already know your hormones are reeking havoc on everything else why not your sleep cycle. As estrogen and progesterone take an extended vacation, your sleep/wake cycles, energy regulation, and mood get tossed in a blender. These hormones help regulate everything from sleep to stress and without them, you’re basically running on fumes.

When you finally do fall asleep you wake up soaked like you ran laps in your sheets. Night sweats are like having a built-in sauna. Add in insomnia and you’re officially in a sleep deficit so deep, NASA couldn’t find it. Menopause fatigue is also worsened by iron deficiency or thyroid issues, which can sneak in unnoticed during midlife changes. When that doctor says “it’s just menopause” ask for a blood test.

If menopause had a parenting phase, it would be the “You’re grounded but I forgot why” stage.  You’re tired, not lazy, not unmotivated, just hormonally worn out.  You’re tired and don’t even know why. You did nothing, but your body is like, “We climbed Everest today.”  So give yourself grace, take naps when you can, and keep that sense of humor alive. It’s the only thing that doesn’t sweat out.

Motherhood trained us to survive on zero sleep. Menopause just took it up a notch by making us tired even after sleeping. If you're feeling wiped out, it’s not because you’re weak, it's because your body is running a full hormonal obstacle course every day. Grab a nap when you can, laugh when you can’t, and remember: you’re not just tired, you're a freaking warrior in pajamas.

4/19/25

I Was 51 and still waiting for My Biological Father to Show Up for Dinner

You’d think that by 51, I’d be past this. You’d think I’d be too busy with menopause, a teenager, and the existential crisis that is my sagging neck to care about whether or not my dad was ever going to show up for dinner.  But when your only child expresses interest in meeting this man who randomly sends him gifts you say,  “Sure”.  I did what any semi-sane 51-year-old woman would do: I texted him. Sent. Delivered. Read. Planned a week's vacation to visit the man that had stood me up countless times before, boarded an airplane, dragged your nephews with you for moral support, and crossed your fingers that he’d show up and not disappoint the next generation. 

There I was 51, fully grown with my teenage son, still sitting in a booth in a random restaurant in his state, checking my phone like a teenager who just got ghosted. Again. 

Let’s rewind. I hadn’t really seen or spoken to my biological father in many years. Our contact was pretty much a nonexistent mix of awkward phone calls, “Happy Birthday” texts three days late, and a lingering emotional hangover from a childhood of waiting by the window with my little suitcase packed, convinced today would be the day he actually showed up.  He rarely did.

I didn’t miss out on having a father. In fact, I was raised by an exceptionally hard working man 

who provided for his bonus family and helped shape me into the woman I am today. But here’s the thing about being a grown woman who was the little girl waiting at the window, you don’t really grow out of the “will he show up this time.” The feelings  change and morph over time but they never leave. 

I wasn’t expecting him to show up.  Not really. He hadn’t so many times before. I was surprisingly calm but worried about my son who of course was having second thoughts on this meeting. I sat there thinking why am I putting him through this?  I know how the story ends. 

Still, hope is a funny thing. Even when it’s worn thin and frayed like an old bath towel, it doesn’t completely fall apart. So there I was, 51 years old, sitting in a booth at a local bar restaurant he chose, looking at my son, looking at my phone, surveying the bar patrons in case I missed him at the bar, telling myself it was fine if he didn’t show. Again. And then he did.  He walked in older, slower, and shorter than I remembered. But it was him.

He smiled awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.  “Hey,” he said. “Thank you for coming.” Gave me an awkward hug, shook hands with my husband and made his way down the line to my son. “Hey,” taking his hand and said, “ Hi, I’m your Florida Friend.”

We sat. We ate. We made small talk like people trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle with missing corners. We just talked. We didn’t rehash the past, we didn’t point fingers, we didn’t yell or cry. We actually had a pleasant dinner. Let’s be honest I was totally waiting for the balls to drop but, we can’t change the past, we can only move on even if the outcome will be being ghosted again. This time I was stronger and able to handle the rejection that I couldn't as a child.  I had let go of it and a weight had been lifted.

And then there was this quiet, kind of heavy moment when he looked at me and said, “I know I missed a lot.”  That was it. Not a grand apology. No long speech. Just a quiet, honest sentence from a man who probably practiced it 1,000 times and still didn’t say it the way he wanted to.  But it landed.  I told him, “Yeah. You did.”  Then, after a pause: “But you showed up tonight.”  And weirdly, that meant something.  Closure?  Maybe.  A beginning?  A different end to the story?  Only time will tell how the story ends but a leopard can’t change their spots. 

I’m still not calling it a Hallmark moment. It wasn’t perfect. There’s still a whole childhood between us that no cheeseburger and beer dinner can erase. But for one night, at least, he met me at the table.

Plans were made for the next few days, something simple, just a lunch and maybe a walk. My son, though, was still understandably cautious about spending time with this man he barely knew. Who could blame him? I couldn’t. I’ve stood in those exact same shoes, staring down disappointment with a brave face and a quiet heart.  But my son was strong. He showed up, not because he trusted easily, but because he loves me. And honestly, that kind of loyalty hits different when you’re a mom watching history almost repeat itself.

When I asked him why he decided to go, he shrugged and said, “I’m only doing it for the Chilies.”  Yep. Chilies.  Because apparently, our accidental family tradition is finding a Chilies in every state we visit. He wasn’t in it for emotional growth or meaningful moments he was in it for the chicken crispers.  And somehow, that made it perfect. Because life isn’t always about grand healing arcs or tearful movie moments. Sometimes, it’s about showing up awkwardly, imperfectly, with a side of fries. And sometimes that’s enough.

4/8/25

Is your Middle School Boy Always Late for School? Mine is!

Middle school boys. Masters of Fortnite , connoisseurs of snacks, and professional dawdlers when it comes to getting out the door on time. If you've ever found yourself yelling, "Backpack! Where is your backpack?!" at 7:45 a.m., this one’s for you.

Why? Why do our boys move at sloth speed (my son is King Sloth) in the mornings, how we can help them snap out of it, and why being on time actually matters more than they think.

Per the (CDC) middle schoolers need about 8–10 hours of sleep per night . But let’s be honest if your kid was up gaming, texting, or simply staring into the void until 11pm like mine, they’re not bouncing out of bed when the alarm goes off at 6:30am.  Instead, it’s a dance of alarms, trips up and down the stairs since they need a human alarm clock as well, snoozes, and groggy complaints like, “Five more minutes, or I can’t hear the alarm if I’m sleeping.”  We know how to fix it, by enforcing a no-screens rule 30–60 minutes before bedtime, creating a consistent nighttime routine (yes, like when they were 5) and using alarm clocks so they can’t snooze from under the covers (bonus points if it flies across the room). Has this advice actually worked for anyone? Anyone?

Many middle school boys have absolutely no concept of time. You say, “We’re leaving in 10 minutes,” and 15 minutes later they’re still brushing one sock over one foot while humming to themselves or watching TikTok. I’ve resorted to girl/mom math and now build 20 minutes into our departure time to hopefully be on time, anywhere. 

Somewhere in the middle school brain, “get to school on time” ranks far below finishing a YouTube video, finding just the right hoodie, and applying a gallon of cologne.  We also know How to Fix It, by talking to them (without sarcasm) about why being on time matters and praising effort over perfection.  Getting out the door faster by five minutes is a win only if you don’t have to turn around for the forgotten backpack!

Let’s get real. Yes, their brains are still under construction and you don’t want to start their day with a battle, but let’s have a reality check too: getting up on time is a basic life skill. And like it or not, it’s one of the first forms of personal responsibility kids can practice consistently. Sure, science gives us insight into their brain but it’s not a free pass forever.  We discuss this topic at the dinner table every night. We’ve started to use more consequences at home but it continues to be an issue for my sloth.  Do I go old school and physically drag him out of the bed, or take the advice of my MIL, to dump a cup of water on him?  If I’m honest, I’ve definitely thought about trying it.

What does the school think? Possibly that we’re just lazy parents who can’t get their kid to school on time or  we don’t care about our child's education.  I’m sure I am not the only one to have received the school “Form Letter” informing us about tardiness and absences. How ridiculous, like we didn’t know our middle schooler was absent or late. How do they fix it? This year, they sent a letter prior to the start of the school year setting a goal for my son to be late no more than 8 times this year instead of the 12 times last year.  Can you guess how many days he’s been late this year?

How can the school fix it?  They can resort to some serious interventions. Chronic tardiness isn’t just a personal problem it can have legal and academic consequences.  In the state of New Jersey, students who rack up ten or more unexcused absences are considered truant. Under state law, parents can be summoned to municipal court, fined, and held accountable for ensuring regular attendance. Penalties include fines starting at $25 and increasing to $100 for subsequent offenses (Safe Supportive Learning, Education Week).  In my school district, the consequences are just as real. According to their policy, excessive tardiness or unexcused absences can lead to detention or loss of school privileges, required parent-student conferences, and the development of formal attendance improvement plans.  Also, Referral to a truancy officer for legal intervention. My son is over the limit.  Will the Truant Officer knock on the door? 

Learning to wake up, get ready, and be somewhere on time is a life skill. Period. It teaches responsibility, time management, and respect for others' time. Whether they’re headed to school, a job, or (someday) college classes, punctuality is part of becoming a functioning adult.

So yes, it may feel like a sitcom every morning or your favorite thriller awaiting the knock on the door. Yes, you may need three cups of coffee to survive the chaos. But it’s worth the effort to help our middle schoolers learn that showing up on time matters because the world isn’t going to wait for them to find the right hoodie.

4/5/25

Rainy Days: Toddler vs. Teenager Edition

Rainy days with my toddler felt like being trapped in a tiny room with a caffeinated squirrel and no escape route. We’d spend the morning building a couch fort, pretending to be WWE wrestlers, being Thomas the Train Trackmasters, a hot mess Hot Wheels flag girl, cleaning up Play-Doh from the carpet (again), and trying to answer “why?” for the 973rd time before lunch.

I dreamed of silence.

Fast-forward to the teenage years. 13 years old to be exact. Today is a rainy dreary day. But now, my teen is in his room, door shut, headphones on, working hard at becoming an Esports Legend on Fortnite or NBA2K,  emerging around noon only to scowl at the fridge and declare, “There’s nothing to eat,” even though you just went shopping, “Can you DoorDash”,  “Can you make me Ramen.” The only thing that hasn’t changed is “why?”.  Today's answer was because your birthday is in October and it's only April!

I dreamed of noise.

With toddlers, rainy days are chaos wrapped in giggles. With teens, it’s quiet—too quiet—and you start to wonder if they’ve become part of their mattress..  Either way, you’re still cleaning up snacks, still questioning your sanity, and still somehow not in charge of the remote.

Different seasons. Same house. New Memories and Moments.

3/25/25

Vaginal Dryness: When Your Lady Bits Turn into the Sahara Desert

Menopause that time in life when your body decides to spice things up with hot flashes, mood swings, and, oh yes, vaginal dryness. If you’ve ever thought, “Why does it feel like my vagina just moved to a desert climate?” you’re not alone.  As our estrogen levels decline during perimenopause and menopause, the vaginal walls become thinner and produce less natural lubrication. This can lead to discomfort, itching, burning, and let’s be real it just makes sex unbearable for some of us who still actually want to have sex.

Vaginal dryness is a common symptom of menopause, yet it remains one of the least discussed topics among women and healthcare providers. I get it who wants to really talk about it. My mother and I have a great relationship but at 51 I still can’t start the conversation “So mom, talk to me about Vaginal Dryness. How did/do you deal with it”?  No matter how open you can be, some conversations are just hard.

Contributing to the silence and non conversation are things like societal stigma and shame. Menopause has long been surrounded by stigma, leading many women to feel embarrassed or ashamed about their symptoms. This societal pressure discourages open conversations about intimate issues like vaginal dryness. It’s a taboo topic.

Many cultures, and religions stifle discussions about sex and sexual health making it challenging for women to seek help or even acknowledge their experiences with vaginal dryness. We didn’t openly talk about sex growing up. I never got “the talk”. You can imagine the shade of red that washed over my face at the dinner table at my future husband’s house when the topic of “porking” was discussed over the Sunday roast beef.

Obviously there is a lack of awareness and education.  “In 2022, a needs assesment survey was distributed to 145 US ObGyn residency PDs. The survey consists of 15 questions. The survey was completed by 99 of 145 PDs (68.3%). Almost all participants (92.9%) strongly agreed that residents nationwide should have access to a standardized menopause curriculum that could be utilized in their programs. Only 31.3% reported having a menopause curriculum in their residency program. Of the programs with a menopause curriculum, 96.8% reported using lectures, 77.4% reported assigned readings, and 74.2% had either dedicated menopause clinics or other clinics with a high volume of menopausal patients. No wonder we are unaware that vaginal dryness is a common and treatable symptom of menopause. This lack of knowledge often leads to underreporting and untreated symptoms. Our doctors don’t really help the situation either. Our doctors may not routinely inquire about vaginal health during consultations, leading to underdiagnosis.  Additionally, symptoms can be misattributed to other conditions, delaying appropriate treatment. 

Was I misdiagnosed? I still don’t know. During my third visit to the doctor in as many months for a recurring UTI he actually asked, “Girl, how much sex are you having?” He proceeded to tell me “it's just a symptom of menopause.”  His  prescription, “lube”.  By the fifth month with the same UTI all treated with different antibiotics I was rushed to hospital for a five day all expense paid stay (thank you Insurance) with Urosepsis.  I would like to highlight the Sepsis part, the I could have died part. Sidenote:Urosepsis is one of the most common causes of sepsis. “Up to 30% of all sepsis cases begin in the urinary tract.”  My gynecologist agreed with my GP, “it’s just menopause”, and refused to give me any HRT drugs since I am a smoker (I’ve heard it before).  HER solution was to prescribe more “preventative” antibiotics to be taken pre and/or post sex.  Unfortunately, I still don’t know the cause however, I haven't had a UTI since November so maybe there is some credibility to “it’s just menopause” or the fact that I’m afraid I’ll be in the next episode of Sex Sent Me To the ER. 

Vaginal dryness might be one of menopause’s least talked about symptoms, but it’s totally normal and treatable. So, if your nether regions feel like a desert, remember—there’s always a way to bring back the rain!

Signs Your Vaginal Hydration Levels Are on Low

   •   Dryness and irritation (like your vagina just went through a drought)

   •   Burning or itching (as if it’s rebelling against you)

   •   Pain during intimacy (because sandpaper and pleasure don’t mix)

   •   Increased urinary tract infections (UTIs) (thanks to the changing pH levels)

How to Bring Back the Moisture

Don’t worry—you don’t have to accept desert conditions forever. Here are some ways to restore the oasis:

   •   Vaginal moisturizers (because your skin isn’t the only thing that needs hydration)

   •   Water-based lubricants (for smoother, more enjoyable intimacy)

   •   Hormone therapy (talk to your doctor about estrogen-based treatments)

   •   Stay hydrated (drinking water helps everything, including your lady bits!)

***Sources available upon request.

3/17/25

The Irish Sweater: History, Myths, and a Bit of Craic

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!  Today I wore my Irish grandmother's Irish sweater. Often called the Aran sweater. Do you know the truth about this iconic knit? Like many things in Irish history, it’s wrapped up in myth, storytelling, and a good dose of creative exaggeration. I honestly didn’t know the entire woolly tale until I did a wee bit of research for this blog post. I choose to believe in the myth. The one thing I 100% absolutely know to be true and want to share about the Irish Sweater is that you should not toss it in the washer and dryer.  That lesson was learned a few years ago when I did just that!

The Aran sweater hails from the rugged Aran Islands off Ireland’s west coast, where the wind could nearly take the eyebrows off you. Back in the early 20th century, island women began knitting these sweaters from untreated wool, which naturally repelled water which was handy when you’re out battling the Atlantic. Each sweater features intricate stitches, with patterns like cables symbolizing fishermen’s ropes, diamonds for prosperity, and honeycombs for hard work. Not surprising that the sweaters women crafted to keep their families and fishermen warm also became a source of income when the Aran knitters realized tourists had a soft spot for their craftsmanship.

The myth I choose to believe is that each family or clan had a unique pattern for identification purposes.  One of the most famous yarns (pun intended) is that every Irish family had its own sweater pattern, supposedly used to identify drowned fishermen who washed ashore. Sounds dramatic, right? While it makes for a great story, there’s no historical evidence that I could find to back it up as an amateur writer and researcher. 

That said, I believe there is some truth in the idea that certain knitting patterns were passed down within families or preferred by specific regions. It may have been more about tradition and skill rather than a formal system of identification, but a knitter knows their stitch. 

Despite the myths, the Aran sweater remains a timeless fashion piece. Whether you’re wearing it for warmth, heritage, Rory Gilmore wore one, just because it was your grandma’s, or it was passed down to every member of your clan, you’re carrying on a great tradition. Today, Aran sweaters are a global sensation, sold in Irish gift shops and high-end boutiques alike. And thanks to modern fashion trends, you can now get them in all sorts of colors although the classic off-white is still the favorite. I received an amazing one as a Christmas gift last year.  The Aran sweater will always have a place in Irish culture. And sure, isn’t that a grand thing?

3/12/25

Mood Swings During Perimenopause and Menopause 

Part 5

Mood Swing: Noun. Plural Noun: Mood Swings. An abrupt and unaccountable change of mood. There are many things that cause mood swings. Psychological, physiological, lifestyle, age, genetics and life events are all factors that can trigger mood swings. Aren’t we lucky that starting with our periods and PMS we also get a front row seat on the emotional roller coaster that we didn’t buy a ticket for during  perimenopause and menopause. Our park season passes are on auto renewal!  

During perimenopause our body’s estrogen and progesterone levels fluctuate unpredictably. These hormonal changes can lead to mood swings, making you feel like you’re trapped on a loop where nothing is as it seems. You’re not really crazy, well maybe.

We’ve all had a bad day, we’ve all experienced a bad mood but one minute you’re on top of the world; the next, you’re plunging into the depths of irritability or sadness. These mood swings are common during perimenopause and menopause and affect many women as they transition through this phase of life. 

Anxiety and irritability can spin you around like a roller coaster gone rogue.  I already suffered from “regular” anxiety and this ride is not helping. Sometimes I feel like I’m in a constant never ending loopty loop. I used to like roller coasters!  The hormonal shifts during this time can contribute to feelings of unease and tension, making it challenging to find your emotional balance. 

Navigating this emotional amusement park requires some strategic planning.  Meditation and Yoga can help center your thoughts and provide some calm.  I can’t get into meditation but I am going to try yoga.  I get enough exercise running around with my mop and vacuum, however, I do find just going for a walk with the dog helps boost my mood and energy levels. My dog is a very good listener so he is part of my support system.  Connecting with friends, family, or support groups can provide a safe space to share experiences and coping strategies.  If your mood swings become too overwhelming don’t be afraid to seek professional guidance, your health care provider can provide support and treatment options. My GP has been very helpful with this part.  I am in the process of seeking more support for my specific issues related to menopause.  I will be sharing that story soon.

Remember, every roller coaster has its ups and downs, but with the right tools and support, you can navigate the ride with confidence and maybe even enjoy some of the thrills along the way.  Embracing humor can be a powerful tool in managing the emotional ups and downs of perimenopause and menopause. Humor is my coping mechanism for all things. So, buckle up, keep your hands and feet inside the ride, and remember you’ve got this!

Note: I am not a doctor.  The information provided is based on general knowledge and should not replace professional medical advice. For personalized guidance, consult a healthcare provider.

***Sources available upon request.

3/4/25

Sometimes He thinks we forget 

He left the house before dawn 

He sat in gridlock traffic to work

He caught the train that would inevitably be delayed 

He has to tell 10 guys 10 times what the plan is for the day 

He was told 10 times what the plan was for the day but only needed to hear it once 

His feet hurt

His head hurts

His back hurts

He can’t get his tie off fast enough 

He sits in more gridlock 

His train is delayed from the earlier backup 

He also sits in the car for a minute 

He takes a moment in the garage 

He may not ask how your day was

He will ask the kids how school was or if they need help with homework 

He won’t ask what’s for dinner 

He will eat whatever you’ve concocted 

He wants to enjoy his chair after dinner 

He will play with the kids

He will kiss you all good night 

He is in bed early 

He has to do it all over again tomorrow too.

We don’t Forget!

2/27/25

Ovaries Start Their Retirement Plan

Part 4

Fertility, a lifelong rollercoaster ride.  Wild twists, turns, and loopty loops only to gradually slow down when perimenopause starts.  This is when your ovaries want to sit in the first car of the rollercoaster with their arms raised. Your ovaries have decided they’re ready for semi-retirement, but not without a few more loopty loops along the way.  As estrogen and progesterone levels decline, ovulation becomes less predictable, kind of like a WiFi signal that cuts in and out when you need it most. 

Perimenopause usually begins in your 40s followed by menopause in your early 50s.  Perimenopause can start as early as your mid 30s. Some reasons for the early visit are: it runs in family, autoimmune diseases, and cancer treatments.  My favorite reason is “unknown.” The average age of first time moms in 2024 was 27.  Early perimenopause makes it that much harder for women who wait or have fertility issues.

Can you still get pregnant? YES!  I was already having a hard time with fertility issues  in my early 30s and had given up the dream.  My son was born when I was 38. While fertility does decline significantly, pregnancy is still possible until menopause officially arrives after 12 months without a period. Women in their 40s have about a 5-10% chance of conceiving each month.  Unless you’re planning for a surprise “menopause baby,” birth control is still a good idea. 

Signs your Ovaries are filling out their Retirement Paper:

• Irregular ovulation (sometimes it happens, sometimes it ghosts you)

• Shorter or longer menstrual cycles (because consistency is overrated)

• Lower progesterone levels (which can cause lighter periods and spotting)

• Decreased egg quality (Mother Nature is phasing out production)

***Sources available upon request.

2/25/25

After a long 6 weeks I’m finally back on my own two feet. I still have a slight hop, shuffle, bop going on but I’m moving. To start the new year off right I had a Bunionectomy with HammerToe correction. Screws and pins have made my once all day foot pain literally disappear. I still have some swelling but it’s nothing compared to everyday pain I was in. IYKYK!

Recovery would not have been successful if it wasn’t for all the help my family and friends provided. My husband was my number one supporter. For the first few days he stayed home from work to help me and keep me comfortable. He took on the “mom” duties and had a little help from my son. He went back to work and for the next few weeks was still on double duty making sure I was ok and the house didn’t fall apart. That's what he does, for our family and anyone who needs him. He got used to sleeping without me snoring all night. Maybe I’ll figure that out next. 

Overall my experience was great. I know others who have had issues and pain associated with this surgery.  Personally, I would recommend having it done when you’re ready. Having it done in January was optimal for me since I won’t be missing a bit of the Summer Season. 

2/18/25

Irregular Periods: Menopause’s Way of Keeping You Guessing, Part 3

Just when you think you’ve got your cycle figured out, perimenopause blindsides you like a teddering toddler who’s  just found the snack drawer. One month, you’re bleeding like it’s an olympic event, then crickets. Just when you least expect it you get a surprise visit.

Irregular periods are the first signs that you may be entering perimenopause. During perimenopause, your hormone levels, especially estrogen and progesterone go on a roller coaster ride that will have you up and down, twisting and turning.

Expect the unexpected. Honestly, anything goes. Longer, shorter, heavier, or lighter periods. Sometime in my early 20s my periods became irregular. Nature, different forms of birth control, and no birth control continuing into my 30s. Then BAM! pregnant at 38 and blessed with my one and only dream baby.

The official menopause finish line is when you’ve gone 12 months without a period. Until then, expect your uterus to play mind games. Some women sail through this phase, while others feel like they’re starring in a horror movie.  I wish I was sailing but I seem to be starting in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. 

Don’t toss the tampons just yet.  Mother Nature will keep you on your toes. Missed cycles, closer or farther apart cycles will be a wild ride, but at least there’s an upside at the end. No more PMS, no more surprise pregnancies, and eventually, NO MORE PERIODS! I’m hangin in there with you. My roller coaster ride is currently stopped at the top and my eyes are shut just waiting for the free fall drop. 

***Sources available upon request.

2/15/25

The Stigma

Part 2

The Change, The Pause, The Big M.  All terms used to refer to menopause.  The stigma around perimenopause and menopause is rooted in societal, cultural, and historical factors. As a kid I heard my mother and grandmother say, “”she is just going through the change.”  I recall my male cousins joking about their mom by saying “the woman (their mom) must be going through the change.” I never heard it any other way.  I was young and some things just weren’t elaborated on or discussed.  I’m 51 and never heard of perimenopause till my late 30s.  Why? 

Older generations like my grandmother were taught to keep “women’s issues” private, passing down silence to their daughters. I was lucky enough to be given two books by my mother when I was twelve or thirteen.  The books talked about what to expect and what kind of products to use for your period.  They were given to her by her mother.  Peg wasn’t a lovey dovey gal so I can just envision how that interaction went down, my poor mother!  Even though I was prepared with my books, can you guess when I got my period? On summer vacation at Peg’s house alone without my mother. Menstruation is often stigmatized as the curse. Makes you feel like we’re doomed from the start.

We are often valued for our reproductive roles and menopause is sometimes seen as the end of femininity.  It's also associated with aging.  So along with getting wrinkles our bodies go through ridiculous changes yet again.  Some women fear being seen as weak or less capable if they mention menopause symptoms like brain fog, hot flashes, or fatigue.

The lack of education provided to women leaves us uninformed about what to expect, leaving many of us confused, unprepared, and sometimes ashamed of our symptoms.  Even healthcare providers have limited training on menopause. This often leads to misdiagnosis or dismissal of symptoms.  

So how can we break the stigma and help the next generation of hot flasher’s through their new phase of life?  We can help normalize it.  We can speak out about it.  We can discuss it.  We can write about it.  We can laugh about it.  Maybe someday instead of male Erectile Dysfunction commercials like “ED is Dead” we’ll see one like “Hot Flashes Are Cancelled!” I am not a doctor or an expert.  I am a women, a mom, a wife, a daughter, a sister, and a friend who is perimenopausing myself to the after party. 

***Sources available upon request.

2/6/25

Part 1 of a Series on Menopause

Perimenopause vs. Menopause: What’s the Difference?

Think of perimenopause as the chaotic pre-party and menopause is the moment when the DJ packs up and leaves.  Perimenopause sneaks up on you.  It starts in your 40s or earlier, just to keep you on your toes if you're lucky like me.  Your hormones go on a rollercoaster ride, making your periods random, your mood swings legendary, and your sleep optional.  The best part that no one talks about is you can still get pregnant during perimenopause. Ever hear of a change of life baby?  Mother Nature is a stand up comedian.  The symptoms are equally random and legendary.  Hot flashes, night sweats, brain fog, weight gain, and the sudden urge to throw your bra out the window. Forgot about anxiety she unfortunately gets invited to the party too. My anxiety was through the roof.  Knowing I did not want to be part of the 10% of women who get pregnant during perimenopause I continued to take the pill.  I was in tears when my gynecologist would not refill my birth control prescription.  Her answer and I quote, “You won’t get pregnant.”  Pissed off and in tears, I made an appointment with my GP.  I have been seeing this man since I was 18.  We have a great doctor/patient relationship. He backed up the gynecologist only his answer was more reassuring.  “Mary Ellen, your Uterus is now like a dried plum.”  Tears turned to laughter and I white knuckled through.  Thankfully, I am still the proud parent of one child.

Menopause is like the big finale.  You still get hot flashes, those legendary mood swings, night sweats and brain fog.  It's official when you’ve had no period for 12 months straight.  Oh what a feeling!  Your ovaries have retired, estrogen levels have taken a nosedive, and you are done with periods forever.  Now instead of spending money on tampons,  you’ll be spending money on anything and everything someone’s Aunt Sally told Sue down the street who posted on Facebook what works for her daughters Hot Flashes.  I still haven’t figured it out.

Postmenopause is like the Afterparty.  I’m still in the thick of it but my research tells me the best part is no more periods. On the flips side your body still likes to keep things interesting with bone loss, slower metabolism, and the occasional hot flash encore.  This is where all the self-care you undoubtedly have been doing with all your free time since your 30s comes in handy.  My experience so far tells me there’s a whole lot more to come and we really have no idea what we’re in for.

Perimenopause is like getting ghosted by your own hormones, and menopause is when they finally leave for good. Welcome to the club!  I hope this is obviously a humorous take on a natural part of aging for women that marks the end of their reproductive years. I personally feel it’s not talked about enough and our doctors don’t prepare us for what really happens to our bodies.  There is a host of reasons for not knowing like, embarrassment, the lack of education, and sometimes cultural views which leads to some not seeking medical help.  I am not a doctor or an expert.  I am a women, a mom, a wife, a daughter, a sister, and a friend who is perimenopausing myself to the after party.  I have not been having fun at this party.  I’ve had a few issues directly related to menopause and I plan on sharing them in the hopes of helping someone else and possibly opening a dialogue.  Party on!

***Sources available upon request.

2/1/25

This has been the longest January in history.  I am glad it’s almost over. On January 7th I had foot surgery. An elective Bunionectomy with HammerToe Correction to be exact. I waited over 20 years to have it done.  Both my feet are in the same condition. For years I squished my feet into cute pointy toe shoes for work, heels I could barely walk in for weddings and parties. By the time I got married I could only wear a low heel for the church. I was in my “Wedding Keds” for the rest of the day. I was in daily pain and alway put it off. The reasons were many; I  can’t miss work, I don’t want to ruin the summer.  It’s really going to hurt. My son is too young, we'll never manage. 

To my surprise the pain was almost nonexistent. The hardest part was staying off my feet. How does a SAHM do that?  With a lot of help and a teenager rather than a toddler. My husband was a rockstar     keeping it together by pulling double duty. He worked all day, came home and did all the things. My son became the late night laundry flipper. My family fed us well with delicious home cooked meals. The poor dog is the only one getting the shit end of the stick since I can’t walk him. He has been the perfect recovery pal!

It’s been hard to sit and watch someone else doing all the things. I may have hobbled too much to make myself feel less useless only to pay for it later with longer icing time. I made it to a basketball game for the laundry flipper. Then I slept the whole next day out of exhaustion. I don’t think anyone takes being helpless well. 

Four weeks in and a few more to go. There’s probably some physical therapy in my future. I am truly grateful for my family and friends who made my recovery possible. 

It’s okay to accept help if you need it. It’s okay to be waited on if you need it. It’s okay if the January decluttering doesn’t happen till March. It’s okay to take care of yourself so you can be there to take care of everyone else. 

1/17/2025

11 Funny New Year’s Resolutions Every Mom Can Relate To

As moms, we often start the New Year with big goals and even bigger to-do lists. But let’s be honest: motherhood has a way of throwing curveballs at even the best-laid plans. So instead of aiming for perfection, why not embrace the chaos with a little humor? Here are 11 funny, relatable New Year’s resolutions that moms everywhere will understand.  The resolutions we AI generated but my responses are NOT!

1. Stop Yelling (Unless It’s Really Necessary)
It’s necessary in my house. I have already started yelling louder in 2025.  My son is not deaf, his friends are not deaf.  He is a 13 year old boy and thinks he knows the answers to life's mysteries and therefore does not need to listen to what we ask, tell or yell at him to do. You know his favorite question is WHY!

2. Get Organized (Maybe)
I am organized and already have to do lists, notebooks, and calendars. I also have MOM brain. I can tell you the peas are on the second shelf far left but don’t ask what time which basketball game is this weekend.

3. Eat Healthier (Chicken Nuggets Count, Right?)
They count. Chicken Fries also count. Last year I started to make my own “Lipton Sides” rice and noodle concoctions. They’re pretty good and easy to make. Anything that your kid will eat counts. 

4. Exercise More (Toddler Cardio for the Win)
We get enough exercise chasing kids, cleaning, and doing laundry. Walk the dog for a few extra steps.

5. Procrastinate Less (Tomorrow Sounds Good)
This year, I’m going to stop procrastinating. Starting tomorrow. No really I’m going to start tomorrow. 

6. Be Patient (Except With My Husband)
My husband has the Patience of a Saint. I however need to find some. 

7. Stop Comparing Myself to Other Moms
I am a Pinterest mom and “cereal for dinner” kind of mom, and that’s okay.

8. Wake Up Earlier (Thanks, Kids)
I already do this and have since my son was born.  Not an hour and workout first early mom just 15 minutes so I can swallow that first cup of coffee in relative peace.

9. Tackle the Laundry Pile (Or Buy More Clothes) I do laundry every day big loads and small loads. I may not fold it right away. Regardless of the Laundry there's alway room for another sweater on the pile.

10. Declutter (Except the Macaroni Art)
I declutter to make room for more clutter.  I’ve been switching out the Macaroni Art with the “professional” photos my son has taken.

11. Be a “Cool Mom” (Without Saying It)
My goal is to be there and approachable for my son.  My house is open to all my son's friends. They're only 13 and they currently treat it like a playground sometimes. They don’t get what I’m trying to do yet. I just want them to know its a safe place to be. 

1/3/2025

Decluttering for the New Year: Do Now vs. It Can Wait

The new year always feels like a fresh start, right? A chance to get organized and let go of the chaos from the last 12 months. But let’s be real: decluttering your entire home isn’t going to happen in a weekend. I know how overwhelming it can feel to even begin. That’s why I’m breaking it down into two simple lists that I have found helpful after years of having the entire house torn apart trying to figure out how to put it all back together.  The "must-do-now" items to start 2025 on a good note, and the "it-can-wait" items that won’t derail your progress if left for later.  You Can Do It!

Quick Tips for Success

• Set a Timer: Even 15 minutes of focused decluttering can make a big difference. I sometimes declutter the junk drawer while making dinner.

• Enlist the Family: This never worked for my family but try to turn it into a game for the kids or tackle a room together as a family.

• Celebrate Progress: Reward yourself for each completed task, even if it’s just a cup of coffee and a good book.

Starting small and focusing on what matters most will make decluttering feel manageable. By the time spring rolls around, you’ll have momentum—and maybe even a clutter-free home!

Top 5 Must-Do-Now Decluttering Tasks

1. Focus on High-Traffic Areas.  The kitchen counter is my nemesis.  I am constantly cleaning and clearing crap and still wake up to a cluttered counter.  Spaces you use every single day: the kitchen counters, the living room coffee table, and the entryway. Clear these areas to instantly feel more organized and create an inviting environment. 

2. Clean the Pantry and Fridge. I do this once a week or at least once a month.  The night before garbage pick up.  Toss expired foods, mystery condiments, and snacks no one touches. Restocking with fresh essentials will make meal planning easier and reduce unnecessary stress in the kitchen.

3. Declutter Closets for Daily Use. My hall shoe closet is alway a nightmare. That was my first task of the new year. Concentrate on the closets you and your kids and their friends use most.  Donate clothes that no longer fit or just rotate items that are out of season. It’ll make the morning rush feel less chaotic when everyone can find what they need quickly.

4. Put away your Holiday Decorations.  I toss or donate items every year. I am also working on converting old bins and boxes to clear storage bins.  Before you fill and  stash those bins away, go through them. Toss broken ornaments, tangled lights that don’t work, and decorations you didn’t use this year. It’ll save you time and space when the next holiday season rolls around.

5. Get a handle on the Paper Clutter.   I have gotten pretty good at this.  I actually go through the mail and tear up and toss the junk before it makes it into the house. You don’t need another credit card or your gutters cleaned! Go through the endless piles of mail, receipts, and school papers. Keep only what’s necessary (like tax documents) and shred the rest. A clean surface does wonders for mental clarity. 

Top 5 Decluttering Tasks That Can Wait

1. Organizing the Garage or Attic
   These spaces are overwhelming, and they aren’t used daily. Save this for spring or summer when you have more time and energy to dedicate to a larger project.

2. Sentimental Items
   Tackling keepsakes like photo albums or kids' artwork takes an emotional toll. Give yourself permission to revisit these items later when you have the mental bandwidth.

3. Deep Decluttering Kids’ Toys
   While it’s tempting to do this immediately after the holidays, give your kids a chance to rediscover new and old toys before deciding what to donate.

4. Redoing Your Closets
   A full closet overhaul can be overwhelming and can wait until spring when you’re ready to swap out winter gear.

  5. Decluttering Books and Media

While it’s nice to have a streamlined bookshelf, this isn’t a priority unless it’s spilling over into your daily living space. Let this task simmer until you’re more settled. 

12/31/2024

New Year's Eve

On December 25, 1999, I came home in a huff from my boyfriend's house. My mom asked what was wrong. I don’t remember my exact words but it was along the lines “I didn’t get a ring, that's what’s wrong, I got a friggin car!” That’s right I was complaining that I got a car instead of an engagement ring. A 2000 VW Passat to be exact that later that year was almost driven through the dealership window by my “fiancé” because it had so many issues. 

I really had a lot of nerve to be mad looking back.  I wasn’t some diva who demanded and expected things. In my defense I was caught up in the “Christmas Engagement” trap. November through February is the most popular time to get engaged. Currently, 19% of engagements happen in December. Who knows what it was in December 1999 but I know it wasn’t me. 

December 31,1999 rolled around and we planned to go to our town's NYE Celebration. It was the second or third year they did it. Fireworks at midnight and a mini ball drop. It was freezing that year and my parents came, which was very out of the ordinary. That’s when the girl who got a car for Christmas was presented with the most beautiful simple engagement ring. Under the fireworks on NYE my no fuss  no muss boyfriend asked me to marry him. 

Turns out my mom was in on it the whole time. Clandestine meetings with “Phil” in NYC, briefcases of diamonds, envelopes of cash, and later a meet up at a NJ Turnpike rest stop to pick up my wedding band days before the wedding. All on the up and up of course;). My husband always says he didn’t know what “craziness” he was getting into but he sure did. 

Tonight we welcome 2025. NYE is different now that we’re old and have an ornery teenager. We, I, will probably be up waiting for a call from the ornery teen for a ride home. That’s ok with us. We had our NYE fun and the most important thing is that we will be spending it together. 

12/26/2024

The Present

I’ve been married for 23 years. That’s 23 years of Christmas presents. Every year since we’re married my husband has gone Christmas shopping with his childhood friend. When we were first married I had no problem giving my husband a list. Coach bags, Victoria Secret underwear, Lucky Brands jeans, and anything from Nordstroms. We were also childless and were in the position to buy what we wanted when we wanted it. 

So in front of the Christmas Bush that year one of the gifts I opened was a plaid flannel nightgown. In the box it was very cute. White trim around the neck has a few white buttons. Very charming and Little House on the Prairie style. I pulled it from the box to get a better look and the fabric kept coming, and coming out of the box. 

Now I’m pretty petite and you could fit five of me in this nightgown. It’s an XXL! I put it on that morning and have worn it to bed every Christmas ever since. It was our first Christmas Tradition.

12/13/2024

Baby's First Christmas

My son was born in October and was only three months old for his first Christmas.  I think his first Christmas was when he was a year old. In my mind he was in awe of the tree, lights, and ornaments. I have to backtrack a bit, I had a pretty good collection of Christmas decorations but I acquired ALL of my mother’s tchotchkes when she moved. So I also thought he was in awe of all the animated Christmas decorations as well.

It was a tough year. I left my job, had a human being to take care of. My husband was terrified of being the sole supporter. On a whim we decided to completely renovate the “smaller” house we bought since I wouldn’t be working. We moved in with my sister and displaced her entire family. My husband was working nights and then days on the renovations. I don’t think either of us slept for that entire first year. 

Once the Renovations were just about done we moved back in and celebrated my son’s first birthday. We made it a year and had survived but we were only hanging on. Mother Nature and Superstorm Sandy decided to upend my parents' world so they moved in with us for a bit. We had a full house.

I got side tracked, this is about Christmas! After being interrogated with photo evidence of his first Christmas my son told me that he remembers nothing before our Disney trip.  He was 4 and that’s another story. Christmas morning he got up as usual and investigated all the new things under the tree. It was just another day for him. I knew he was happy but it wasn’t because of the things. He was just happy. I had very mixed emotions that day. My husband slept through Christmas morning. I was mad, sad and probably a little angry if I’m being honest. I felt like he missed out on a first. However, I realized that there will be so many more firsts that we will remember together. This year we are celebrating my son’s 13th Christmas morning. 

12/11/2024

Our First Christmas

Our first Christmas was in December of 2001. We were married for 6 months and I wanted a magical Christmas. I really didn’t have many Christmas decorations but I was slowly building my tchotchke collection for months. I bought stuff from everyone’s kid at work who was fundraising and we had an Odd Job around the corner. I was their best customer that year. We decided to join my family on the annual tree cutting cluster %#$% to cut down our own first tree.  We also had a pickup truck so no windows would be broken that year!

At the tree farm my husband suggests a balled tree, “we can plant it in the backyard after Christmas,” he says.  Wow, I thought that was a great idea from someone who I thought was not very sentimental. My heart was full and we began the hunt for the perfect tree.  If you haven’t been following, I was on the hunt for the biggest tree I could find.  I was given an eyeball size by my husband who held his long arm into the air.  I found one, it was perfect.  My husband said he thought it was too big/tall but I thought it was within his arm stretch.  

We get my moms tree home and we go to our house.  The tree was definitely big and I would need more lights and decorations.  I don’t remember if the tree was in the house or not when I left but when I came back it was and when I saw it I dropped my bags of cheer on the floor and started to cry.  Christmas was ruined. Since the tree was too tall my husband cut the top of the tree off!  I had a Christmas Bush! I was horrified.  I don’t remember if I said anything as I turned and left the house but when I got to my moms I was hysterical saying, “he ruined Christmas.”

Obviously Christmas wasn’t ruined just that one moment. I got over it and decorated my Christmas bush. Christmas morning was strange that year since my tree was a bush and it was the first Christmas morning I didn’t spend with my family.  We made it our own.  We did plant the Christmas bush in the backyard and you won’t be surprised to find out that it died.  It was the tree that wasn’t meant to be but It was our tree.  

Unfortunately, or fortunately I can’t find or don’t have a picture of our First Christmas Tree. Close your eyes, conjure the Christmas Spirit and use your imagination!  It’s not about the tree or the tchotchkes it’s about celebrating making the best memories with the ones you love the most. 

12/8/2024

The First Christmas

The Tree was always the center of Christmas at my house growing up.  My memories of Christmas don’t really start till about the age of 6.  Many things changed in my life for the better between the ages of 5-6.  

My dad tells stories of that first Christmas. “I told your mother there weren’t enough presents under the tree” my dad will say. There were of course a few more that appeared before Christmas morning for my brother and I.  My favorite from that first Christmas was a doll that would cry if the pacifier was taken out of her mouth. I realized while writing this that it was my father’s first Christmas too. From that first Christmas on the presents were abundant and the trees were enormous. 

My father would drag a five to six foot tall and almost as round Christmas tree down 9th Avenue in Manhattan after having a few cold ones. It was a sight I would have loved to see. I can imagine the icicles hanging from his mustache.  When we moved to New Jersey he couldn’t drag a tree but we always managed to get the biggest tree we could find and have it up for when he got home from work. I guess a big family needs a big tree. Even as all us got older the present piles never seemed to get shorter. 

We are now an immediate family of fourteen. We have big trees and small trees or no trees. I have a big tree now and I host everyone for Christmas Eve. We do a Secret Santa for the adults and the last two under eighteen still get piles of gifts. 

This year my parents decided they were not having a tree. I was heartbroken but wholeheartedly understood.  It was a crazy year for them and their Christmas Spirits are low.  They have had artificial ones for years now (not a fan) and they can’t decide on what they want. Mom wants it to be manageable and you know by now what dad wants.  Well we couldn’t let them not have a tree so my sister got them the most manageable tree yet.  Maybe we started a new tradition for them. I can’t wait to hear my dad say, “that is some tree,” on Christmas Eve this year where the Christmas Spirit will be in full swing.  I hope he realizes he made it all possible.

12/3/2024

To believe or not to believe is the question. When did you stop believing in Santa? Did you ever believe in Santa? What’s the reason for the season? So many questions this month. 

Let’s start with “The reason for the season.”  The reason for the season of Christmas is to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, bringing hope, peace, and salvation to humanity. I’m Catholic so we incorporate this part of the holiday.  Santa Claus became associated with Christmas over several centuries, evolving from various cultural and religious traditions. Saint Nicholas, Sinterklaas, Santa Claus.  The character of Santa Claus significantly evolved in the 19th century when Clement Clarke Moore's 1822 poem 'Twas the Night Before Christmas introduced many modern aspects of Santa, such as his sleigh, reindeer, and jolly demeanor. Then in 1931,  Coca-Cola commissioned artist Haddon Sundblom to create Santa Claus advertisements, solidifying the modern image of Santa as a rotund, cheerful man in a red suit.  Santa became a symbol of the holiday season in part through the commercialization of the holiday. Shocker, right! 

I was a believer! I believed in Santa till I was about 10.  I am the oldest of five so I had to keep the magic alive for a long time.  I don’t remember exactly how I found out.  A school friend, from a TV show, overheard parent conversations while I was eavesdropping in the hall. Or maybe it was the non-stop deliveries to our apartment from UPS the year Cabbage Patch Dolls were the hot toy of the year.  Or just after we circled our hearts out of the JC Penny catalog and never saw it again.  I’m sure I was sad or upset to find out Santa wasn’t real but never thought my parents were liars for making me believe in a Big Fat Man With a Long White Beard. Santa Claus is Coming to Town by Bing Crosby is my favorite song.  My family is hardcore when it comes to Christmas, at least I still am and I chose to share that Christmas Magic with my son.  

He is now 13 and I am pretty sure he doesn’t believe in Santa anymore.  He says, “come on mom, Santa isn’t real!.”  My response is always, ‘“You just have to believe in the Magic of Christmas.”  I’m truly torn to give an actual answer.  I can see why some people choose not to carry on the Santa tradition.  If we could all just share feelings of joy, generosity, love, and goodwill toward others we are sharing the Christmas Spirit.  It reflects the values of kindness, gratitude, togetherness, and the celebration of hope and faith. Even if you're not religious and don’t want to carry on the Santa traditions, practicing the Christmas Spirit just involves acts of giving, connecting with loved ones, and spreading cheer to brighten the lives of others. There is something Magical to find in spreading joy and cheer with others.

11/19/2024

Self-care, we all say we need it, we should try and make time for ourselves to relax. How about self medical care?  How many of us have minor or major medical issues that we deal with on a daily basis?  Somehow we manage to take care of everyone else and with what’s left we take care of ourselves; right?

I have a minor autoimmune disease per my doctors. I think it's major because at times it greatly impacts my life. The key word is MY life. Family and friends are aware and understanding. They know I struggle and they know I don’t take care of myself like I should. I am the, everyone else comes first gal. Most times I push through the pain, fatigue, and anxiety to make sure everything is perfect as it can be. Where did it get me? A 5 day, 4 night stay at my local hospital and 3 days of self administered IV antibiotics at home. My body was telling me it was time for me. I do not suggest you wait for the message. Being proactive is hard but we do it for others. We have to do it for ourselves.

My husband is my hero everyday but he was my superhero this week. He managed everything, worked, wrangled our 13 year old, and kept my spirits up while I knew it was killing him to see me that way. My village is my family and those special friends who will do anything for you. They all supported us during this torturous week and I am forever grateful to each one.

I’m making changes and will continue to try and take better care of myself. Not only because I have to but because I deserve it and because they deserve a healthy me. 

The Gifts that Keep on Giving

11/10/2024

Play-doh is the kind of gift that keeps on giving, and one of the gifts my mom disliked as we tore off the paper with glee but she was the one smiling because she knew where it was going.  There’s always that one person that likes to give the gift that keeps on giving. In the carpet,one the wall, in the washer, in the hair, in the mouths of babes. When you have 5 kids of varying ages in the 1980’s the play-doh  gets hidden on the top shelf of the closet, tucked behind the sheets. I get it completely and I only have one. We all joke about it and I am now the giver of the gifts that keep in giving.

So why were some moms hiding the play-doh and craft kits?  The 1980s were the start of a boom in mass-produced toys and branded products. Iconic toys like Cabbage Patch Kids, Transformers, and video game systems such as the Atari, and Colecovision, Entertainment System were heavily marketed and widely popular.  Even Apple had made $100 million by 1980.  The DIY culture wasn’t as mainstream in the 1980s as it is now. While some families did enjoy crafting, it was as a niche hobby or an activity definitely not for a mother of 5 kids in a NYC apartment. The internet and social media today have made it easier to share and access ideas, tutorials, and communities that encourage crafting.  I became a Pinterest Mom.  Parents in the 1980s often choose convenience and efficiency, making quick purchases over time-consuming projects.  I wholeheartedly cannot see my mother overseeing DIY projects for all 5 of us simultaneously.  I do however remember a diorama that I needed to make and waited till the last minute.  Too bad the play-doh had dried up but an amazing friend and neighbor  managed to find some late on a Sunday night.  The Gloria Superstar diorama came to life. Today, there is a greater emphasis on personalized and creative experiences, and parents might be more inclined to craft gifts as part of a broader movement toward thoughtful, sustainable, and unique gifting.  I started crafting in the late 90s.  My mom got creative with a bow maker one Christmas.  I think I still have a plaid bow floating around my basement. I fell in love with a store named The Rag Shop that is sadly no longer with us. I had aspirations of painting and selling Christmas trees in my moms hair salon. I absolutely spent more than I made but I continued to dabble in crafting and DIYing.  Then I became a mom.

When my son was younger I’d set up craft days to color and make things for the holidays, hand turkeys, trees and pumpkins. I even made my own version of the Little Passport Kit.  He was a big fan of the Magnetic Tile Art Kit. He also loved the Play Doh Dentist Kit! He got such a kick out of making teeth.  I became a Dollar Tree addict making some of my own decorations for all seasons. Or trying trendy dupes, you’ve seen the videos. I am sure I had more fun than my son but we spent time together and had a little fun.  My sister and niece get crafty at Thanksgiving and make something for everyone who attends dinner. My son has outgrown it but I have not.  It has a very calming effect on me. I call it my happy place.  Sometimes things get displayed and sometimes things go back to the basement.  I wish he enjoyed it more, since it would have kept him from the world of electronics and from being constantly plugged in.

Crafting and DIY activities are beneficial for kids, providing an alternative to screen time.  Working together or independently. The hands-on activities let them be creative, learn problem-solving skills, and improve fine motor coordination, engaging their minds and bodies in productive ways. Hands-on activities like crafts, puzzles and models can instill a sense of accomplishment and mindfulness that can have positive effects over the possible negative effects of electronics.  Get those little hands busy.

Thanksgiving

11/4/2024

Thanksgiving is a time to give thanks for everyone and everything in our lives.  Thanksgiving dinner is my favorite part of the holiday.  Over the years we’ve had good ones, bad ones, and everything in between.  You know, this one is not talking to that one, this one never brings the right brand of Apple Cider; it’s Ziegler’s by the way, why is little Johnny crying again, making sure the dog does not eat the turkey, half-n-half in the mashed potatoes! Once you're married with or without children you have a dilemma; where do we go. Switch sides every year, piss one of the moms off even if they say “it's fine”, forget where you went last year, just cook your own turkey, host the families.  I have done all of the above.  In all honesty I really want to be with my family. Why, the traditions of the day.  Mom putting on the parade, the smell of the turkey cooking, the table being set, the short lived excitement of the guests, just enjoying everyone being together. My mother and grandmother found this really cute turkey platter and gravy boat a million years ago in a store no longer with us called Caldor.  The platter has since been replaced after we mourned the accidental break of the original, but the gravy boat lives on.  Our family has grown, and scattered but still mom cooks a turkey and STUFFING, my sister cooks a turkey and her husband deep fries a turkey.  That’s a lot of turkey but when you host for the masses you need to be ready and I am truly thankful that my sister is the host. This year I will be at my Mother-in-Laws house which  has a whole different type of family traditions.  Fingers crossed this year she makes a turkey!  Thankfully, they are walking distance from each other so I may have to sneak over for a peek of the gravy boat and have a plate of STUFFING. 

This year let's Give Thanks for our families and the traditions we carry on and make.

Happy Thanksgiving. 

Tween/Teen Dating

10/2024

Are you entering the era of “ships”? Currently, about 35% of U.S. teens ages 13-17 report being in a dating or romantic relationship.  While there isn’t specific data available for tweens ages 10-12, trends suggest that they do have "crushes" and “ships” or old school “boyfriends” and “girlfriends”.  I am in that era.  We had a “ship” for a few months when my son was 12 and our very first heartbreak also at 12.  I really couldn’t believe my 12 year old had a girlfriend.  We soon found out it was the best relationship you could have; or was it?  They literally never saw each other outside of school or on facetime.  My husband joked and told him it was the best way to have a girlfriend, one you didn’t have to see regularly.  That opens a whole can of worms for later more serious relationships.   

Today, social interactions through digital platforms, like TikTok and Snapchat, play a major role in how our young teens navigate their relationships. I believe it is influencing the nature of tween "dating" today.  I did not have a boyfriend when I was 12.  Crushes yes, but boyfriends no.  It was also 1985 when I was 12 and things were definitely different then.  40 years ago, the culture, technology and just the world in general were different.  I had a conversation with my 75 year old mother-in-law about dating at 12 in the midst of my son and nephew both having girlfriends this past summer.  The differences between time generations is quite amazing. I “sucked face with some boys” and that was in 1961. In 1985 that thought never crossed my mind. Could it just be a difference in maturity or time?

What is the difference today in 2024 than 20 or 40 years ago?  Digital Influence, Face-to-Face Interactions, and the Speed of Communication.  Today, social media dominates tween communication, making digital platforms the primary way to interact. Texts, FaceTime, and Snaps, give them instant, round-the-clock communication. Tweens can maintain near-constant contact.  Social media and smartphones play a significant role in tween dating. Platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and Snapchat are central to how tweens communicate and express romantic interest. Two decades earlier, most tween interactions were face-to-face or through basic texting (if they had cell phones), or landline phone calls. Their conversations were more verbal and deliberate, often involving face-to-face interactions. I personally didn’t have a cell phone till 1991 and that was 33 years ago.  40 Years Ago, 1984 was “tween" even used then? I was a kid till I was a teenager.  Communication was much slower and more deliberate.  Tweens interacted almost entirely in person or over landline phones. Passing notes in class or hanging out at the local mall, or going to dances, were the main ways tweens communicated. My sister tells the story of connecting all the phone lines together when our parents went to bed. The line stretched from the kitchen to the attic. That was great for her until she forgot to turn the ringers back on. I’ve had facebook since its inception but I’ve never been more active till recently. 

Obviously I’m using the platform for myself but I’ve also been using the others to get an idea of what my son is watching, what the hell he's saying, and why he is acting like someone I’ve never met at times.  My son has social media, Snapchat and TikTok.  I absolutely caved when he was definitely too young to comprehend what he was watching.  Taking it away at any age is not impossible, but sometimes it's too late and the damage is done. I am lucky that he shares more than I want to know sometimes, but I am not naive to the fact that there is plenty he isn’t sharing. I monitor his usage the best I can and when he’s asleep I am not ashamed to tell you that I read everything, everything and sometimes I laugh and sometimes I cringe.  This is an unpopular opinion by some but I feel it's our job to spy, I mean, help guide them  through the digital world and how that translates to the real world.  He sees it as an invasion of his privacy but at 12, now 13 his privacy is limited and he has no clue what he watches, says, or does as a result of seeing it on TikTok could have in his life, now or in the future. 

All the platforms make dating for our tweens/teens possible. Unfortunately, if they solely “ship” online they are missing out on the real life experiences that comes with figuring out themselves and how to navigate a realistic relationship.  Sometimes I worry about their futures and then I remember while they are impressionable, their tween/teen brains are still growing.  There’s still hope!  

Photo is of my son and his future first girlfriend!!!

Peg

10/30/2024

July 11, 1924 was the day my grandmother was born. October 30, 2005 was the day she died. She would have been 100 years old today. 

Marguerite, known as Peggy, was a force to be reckoned with. Peg, as we would later call her, was a divorced single mother of 2 children when that choice was extremely criticized. She was also one of those women who paved the way for other women in the male dominated corporate world. She was an independent, tough, stubborn, and strong willed woman who could scare you straight with a stare or the reach of the wooden spoon.

She was a collector of things.  Salt and Pepper Shakers, gift with purchase make-up, perfumes, and costume jewelry.  She was a catalog orderer. Decorative plates, housecoats, curtains. She was devoted to her local church. Mass cards, holy water, figurines of saints, and metals.  Her collection is in my basement or displayed on the shelves of her seven grandchildren.  

Peg loved the beach but did not love sand on her chair.  She loved a good cup of coffee and she loved her Misty 120’s. She loved watching her shows but particularly did not like one popular commercial of an “annoying” little girl. She was the solitaire queen. She was not a good cook so maybe that’s why she would hide the Lays chips in the oven!  

She was always present and we were all especially lucky that she was a constant in our lives. From letting us invade her home for the entire summer year after year, bringing a box of donuts when she would visit after work. Peg gave me the best advice when I was a young adult, she said, “Mary Ellen, you can’t burn the candle at both ends.” 

Peg was not a cuddly grandma when we were kids. Which was fine because we really weren’t a cuddly family.  We just knew she loved us. She did however become cuddly when my nephew was born. The first great grandchild. I think he was too little to really remember her but he was pretty lucky to spend what little time he had with her.

I like to think that today Peg is up in Heaven in her sandless beach chair, soaking up the sun with a Misty 120 in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other and a catalog on her lap. 

We miss you everyday. 

Firsts

9/30/24

I am entering a phase of motherhood that I really wasn’t prepared for. I feel a strange sadness and loneliness that I think he feels too. 13, a teenager, still a little boy trying to become a man. 

October 16, 2011, changed my life forever.  I said goodbye to my corporate life of 17 years and said hello to my beautiful baby boy.  The early days were long, hard and sweet.  I really couldn't believe that I was a mom, his mom, and I was responsible for a life other than my own. I had no idea what I was doing.  

The first sickness, I had to call my mom. My mom’s advice was always right.  We had an amazing old school pediatrician who would ask, “Did you call your mom before you came?” You should have listened.  The first time I had to give medicine was after his shots.  Just Tylenol but I didn’t understand the dosing and well I gave him a bit too much.  That was THE longest night of my life.  I was so freaked out and after consulting google I just sat and stared at him all night.  Lesson learned about dosage and not to google anything!

The first time I left him alone was with my mom.  He wasn’t sleeping through the night yet but grandma was up for the challenge.  In the morning she made sure to let me know he slept through the night.  Apparently I was starving him! I was following the book rules so I threw the book away.

The first time I thought something was wrong because he was almost 2 and not talking.  I kept it to myself but others didn’t.  By 2 1/2 he was receiving early intervention and seeing a speech therapist for Apraxia of Speech.  Life was not easy with a non-talker. He couldn’t communicate his needs, we couldn’t understand his wants.  We over indulged, over compensated, and gave too many choices.  That was the hardest first and has been overcome by leaps and bounds.

The first time he needed stitches was a killer. All the hovering I did seemed like a waste when he fell between the chairs at the dinner table. Blood was everywhere and with no shoes on we scooped him up and ran out the door. At the ER they wrapped him like a little burrito in a bed sheet and laced his eyebrow with 6 stitches. 

The first day of school. One of many already but first grade must have seemed scarier. The teacher had to drag him off the railing and told me just to leave for first grade. 

The first best friend break up almost killed us both. We were both heartbroken. The bonds we make are stronger than we think. 

The first cell phone. His new friend and confidant. Wait as long as you can because there is no going back.

The first of many “just leave me alone.” Wondering if he’s ok, are we ok? That turns into a weird normal occurrence of preteen growing pains we’ve forgotten about. 

The first detention, the first suspension, the first girlfriend, the first heartbreak.

There will be many firsts of that I am sure. However, I wasn’t ready for my first. The first conflicting feelings of his independence, of his social life, of his choices. The first time he wouldn’t hold my hand on a walk, the first time he didn’t want to go out with me, the first time he was stiff when I tried to hug him, the first time he didn’t want a kiss goodnight, the first times he really didn’t need me. 

All of these first are cherished memories and moments. While there was a feeling of sadness and honestly loneliness about not being needed I realized that these firsts are part of a lifetime of firsts that while I might not be needed for but will always be a part of. 

Fickle Family

9/8/24

Are families fickle or are the family members fickle. I’m going with both.  Someone in my family used to say “fickle friends.” It’s Not a word you hear everyday these days. 

I just hosted a 75th birthday party for my MIL. We turned her request for a pig roast into a surprise birthday party. Thankfully a friend handled the pig roasting, another handled the beverages, my mom made some salads, my favorite neighbor made some desserts, I handled everything else. 

Turning 75 is a big deal. You expect friends and family to want to celebrate life. There are the diehard family members and friends who attend without question. Then there’s the part of the family who can’t even be invited or all hell will break loose. Or the ones you have to invite but don’t come and will be insulted if you didn’t invite them. Why? It’s truly the worst part of party planning. My family has been there. We’ve made amends the best we can but we still come together for the big things. 

Unfortunately, my husband’s side of the family is fickle. We hurt the ones we love the most right. Some things are just unforgivable or unforgettable. Maybe. Feelings are hurt, pride gets in the way. Stubborn is as stubborn does. I think big families with large age gaps are the culprit sometimes. Someone always has to be right so someone always has to be wrong. Regret is a terrible feeling. I’ve heard “I regret nothing.”  I know it’s not true.  I have regrets. 

It is also unfortunate that there are many times where we do need to cut family out of our lives for extreme reasons like the safety of other family members or ourselves. This is not the case in our current fickle family discord. My MIL has 2 living older siblings. One she talks to and one she doesn’t. Whatever the reason (which still isn’t clear to any of us) I hope they find their way back to each other before it’s too late. Too late to make amends, remember the good times and the not so good times, but mostly just to remember and enjoy each other.  Family is a fickle thing.

Why a Blog?

9/6/24

Why Not?  I started this blog as a “side hustle” knowing full well I would not be making six figures like you see on those social media reels and videos.  Could I spend $499 on a program to sell people? Maybe.  I won’t. I want to try and make it on my own. My research showed blogging about a product makes a buyer more interested in buying.  So far that has been true. Thank you to those who have taken my advice. However, the blog part has also been helpful to me personally.  I clear my mind when I write even if I'm not promoting or trying to sell anything. It’s a little bit of therapy even if it's just babbling nonsense.

I make Amazon recommendations. Based on actual data, personal use, life experience, and just things I like that I think could be useful to someone else. I’m thinking of myself as a salesperson of sorts. Not everyone is interested in what I’m selling and that’s ok too.   Amazon accounts for 37.6% of e-commerce sales, the highest market share of all e-commerce companies.

Since I started in April, I’ve learned a lot about e-commerce. There are 274.70 million online buyers in the United States as of 2023. More than 81% of the total population in the United States is shopping online. There is something new to learn everyday. It’s something I have come to really enjoy. It feeds the creative part of me that has been starving for a long time. The possibilities are really endless. Time is what holds me back. There is never enough time in the day. I’ve been making videos of the things I do on a regular basis so Stay tuned.

The best thing so far is the faceless friends of sorts I’ve found through my Facebook Page and other social media sites. We’re not going for coffee (maybe a virtual cup) but we can relate to each other. We are all in a “Mom Era” of our lives mostly at different stages where we need advice, assurance, or just somewhere to vent. Just like real life there will always be judgmental comments from keyboard warriors. 

I’ve found something I enjoy doing and sharing. I’m growing slowly. Once I find the right balance between home and “work” we’ll see what comes next. Abraham Lincoln said, “the best way to predict the future is to create it.” 

Seaside Family Vacation

8/19/24

Top 5 New Mom Must Haves 

8/11/24

Back-to-School 

7/29/24

Self-Care Day

7/29/24

Parent Appreciation Day-July 28, 2024

7/24/24

Beach Memories Never Lost

7/14/24

Family Vacation

6/30/24

Hi, I have Resting Bitch Face

6/11/24

Father's Day June 16, 2024

6/11/24

Mother's Day

4/13/24

4 Slow Feeders For Dogs 

4/8/24