My kitchen table in Atlanta looked like a NASA clean room that had been hit by a glitter grenade on the morning of March 12, 2024. I was hunched over a stack of black cardstock, trying to figure out if I could actually hand-write “Launch Coordinates” thirteen times without my hand cramping into a permanent…
@the_real_naomi: Okay, fellow party planners, I need some serious wisdom here. As a military spouse, I’ve gotten pretty good at throwing a party anywhere, any time, in any house the Air Force gives us. And I always want to throw the best party on the block. Seriously, my husband Henry just shakes his head, but…
Houston in July feels like walking into a damp sponge, and trying to wrangle eight 11-year-old boys in my living room is basically asking for a structural engineering failure. My son, Leo, decided he was officially too cool for “little kid” themes, but he still wanted robots. Specifically, the ones that turn into cars. I…
Maya and Leo were turning seven on March 24th, and my bank account was looking thinner than a sheet of dollar store tissue paper. Living in Chicago means everything costs a fortune, from the parking at the Museum of Science and Industry to the basic groceries at the Jewel-Osco on Elston. My twins wanted a…
My kitchen table looked like a primary-colored crime scene last Tuesday night because my twins, Leo and Maya, just turned nine. I’m staring at 21 half-eaten cupcakes and a floor covered in tiny plastic bricks that feel like stepping on hot coals when you’re barefoot at 2 a.m. in a drafty Chicago bungalow. We managed…
The rain was relentless on April 12, 2025, which is just classic Portland, but try explaining that to a four-year-old named Leo who insisted his “Roar-ing” birthday happen in the backyard. My kitchen was overflowing with twenty-two toddlers, three crates of organic juice boxes, and a very stressed-out Labradoodle named Buster. I had exactly two…
My twins, Leo and Maya, hit the big double-digits last year, but this year they turned eleven on a brisk Tuesday, April 12th. Living in a cramped third-floor walk-up near Humboldt Park here in Chicago, I have learned one thing. You either embrace the chaos or the chaos embraces you. We decided on a fishing…
My kitchen table in Logan Square looked like a galactic junkyard last Tuesday. Maya and Leo, my twins, were turning nine, and they insisted on a Star Wars bash that wouldn’t bankrupt our family. I had exactly ninety-one dollars to make the Force happen for eight hyperactive nine-year-olds. The biggest stress wasn’t the pizza or…
My kitchen counter looked like a crime scene involving blue neon frosting and several miniature capes on the morning of March 12, 2024. I was preparing for my nephew Leo’s second birthday party, and if you have ever tried to wrangle seventeen toddlers in the Houston humidity, you know that survival depends entirely on your…
Glitter is a beautiful lie told by retailers to unsuspecting parents who don’t realize they will be finding stray sequins in their socks until the year 2030. I learned this the hard way on April 12, 2024, standing in my kitchen in Atlanta with a vacuum cleaner that sounded like it was eating a bag…
