The wind off Lake Michigan was howling last April, but inside our tiny Logan Square apartment, I was drowning in red streamers and eye patches. Leo and Maya, my twins, were turning two. Nineteen toddlers in a Chicago walk-up is a recipe for disaster or a legendary story. I chose legendary, but I only had…
Pink paper streamers festooned my ceiling like neon cobwebs on March 15, 2025. I tripped over a stray doll shoe. It was embarrassing. My daughter Maya laughed so hard her loose front tooth finally gave up the ghost. This was the peak of our budget barbie party for 7 year old adventure in our drafty…
My backyard in Grant Park looked like a crime scene, or maybe just a very disorganized highway expansion project, on the afternoon of October 14, 2023. Leo, my son, was turning two, and I had twenty-one toddlers descending on my house with the energy of a localized hurricane. I stood there with red Georgia clay…
Toddler Easter Egg Hunts: Choking Hazards or Just Overthinking? My Latest Party Mom Dilemma! @mia_partymom: Hey everyone! Mia here from Kansas City. Easter’s just around the corner, and I’m already deep into planning our annual neighborhood egg hunt. You know me, I like to go all out! My kids, Nora (7) and Noah (9), are…
Houston humidity is no joke, but trying to count tiny pink bows while twenty-two second-graders vibrate with sugar-induced energy is an entirely different level of heat. I have been teaching elementary school for eighteen years, and if there is one thing I have learned between grading spelling tests and wiping up mysterious sticky spots on…
My living room smelled like a mix of cheap lavender oil and wet dog for three days after Chloe’s 7th birthday bash in North Austin last April. It was loud. It was messy. Cooper, my golden retriever, spent the entire afternoon trying to lick cucumber slices off the faces of seventeen screaming second-graders. Most parents…
Twenty-one ten-year-olds in a single room on a Friday afternoon in Houston is a recipe for a headache, or a very messy party. The humidity outside was pushing 90 percent on March 12, 2024, when I hosted Lily’s big double-digit bash in my classroom. I’ve been teaching fourth grade for twelve years, so I know…
I stood in the middle of a crowded party supply aisle on Roswell Road, sweating completely through my favorite vintage Braves t-shirt. Panic. Total, icy panic. The Atlanta humidity was already brutal that morning, but my internal temperature was spiking for an entirely different reason. My daughter Chloe was turning 11 in exactly forty-eight hours….
Chicago winters do not play nice, and last March 12, 2024, was a prime example of why hosting a fourth birthday party for twins is a feat of endurance. My boys, Leo and Sam, were obsessed with Peter Parker, but my bank account was obsessed with staying above zero after a brutal heating bill. I…
Four-year-olds do not care about your aesthetic. They care about sugar. They care about noise. I learned this the hard way on a painfully muggy Atlanta morning last May, standing in my driveway holding a torn piece of cardboard painted like a skyscraper. My son Leo was turning four. I am a single dad who…
