I was sweating in the checkout line at the Party City on Brodie Lane, clutching a stack of lime green square plates like they were the last pieces of gold in the universe. My nephew Leo was turning five on March 12, and he had specifically requested a “Creeper party” with the intensity only a…
I sat on my kitchen floor in suburban Atlanta at 2 AM on October 12, 2023, surrounded by a mountain of lime green crinkle paper and a hot glue gun that had just branded my thumb with a second-degree burn. My daughter Maya was turning two the next morning. I had spent six weeks agonizing…
My living room looked like a crime scene last Saturday morning, specifically one committed by a pack of cartoon rescue dogs and a serious amount of static electricity. Leo, my oldest, turned 10 on April 11, 2026. While most 10-year-olds in Denver are begging for gaming consoles or trips to the skate park, Leo has…
My kitchen floor was a chaotic sea of red and white latex on July 12th last summer. Leo and Maya, my twins, were officially hitting the double digits. Ten years old. I had a grand total of forty-two dollars in my “party fund” envelope and a backyard that looked more like a jungle than a…
My backyard in Atlanta looked like a scene from a low-budget action movie where the cars were made of cardboard and the drivers were eighteen screaming eight-year-olds high on juice boxes. It was May 14, 2024, and I was sweating through my “World’s Okayest Dad” t-shirt while trying to figure out why I had promised…
Last April 12th, I sat on my kitchen floor in Lake Oswego surrounded by lilac glitter and a very broken printer. Maya was turning eight, and she had her heart set on a “Metamorphosis Magic” theme which, in eight-year-old speak, just means everything has to be purple and have wings. I thought I could save…
Twenty-two twelve-year-olds in a cavernous Denver gymnasium create a specific kind of acoustic chaos that vibrates right through your ribcage. On April 12, 2025, I stood in the middle of that whirlwind holding a sheet cake like it was a holy relic. My daughter Maya was turning twelve, and her only request was a “stick-it”…
My garage currently smells like a mix of cheap acrylic paint, fermented apple juice, and the distinct scent of nineteen pre-teens who forgot that deodorant exists. It was April 12th, 2025, when my oldest daughter, Maya, turned eleven and decided that a “vibey” art session was the only acceptable way to celebrate. I stood there,…
My best friend Jenna turned 30 last June, and if you know Jenna, you know she lives for a bit. She is the kind of woman who runs a marketing firm by day but still has a folder of memes on her phone dedicated exclusively to 2010-era viral songs. When she told me she wanted…
The humidity in my Houston classroom was already hitting 80 percent by 8:00 AM on May 3rd, and I had exactly forty-five minutes before twenty-one third-graders burst through the door expecting a masterpiece. Crafting the perfect tie dye invitation for kids sounded like a brilliant idea two weeks ago during my planning period. Now my…
