My kitchen looked like a beehive exploded on a Tuesday night last April. Yellow frosting coated the granite, three spatulas lay abandoned in the sink, and I had a glob of “Hunny” gold shimmer stuck in my eyebrow. Maya was turning seven. Nineteen kids were descending on our suburban Portland home in exactly fourteen hours,…
My living room in June 2024 looked like a tropical storm hit a craft store, and I was the lone survivor holding a hot glue gun like a weapon. Being a single dad in Atlanta means I wear a lot of hats, but on that Saturday, I was strictly the “Chief Wayfinder” for my daughter…
Glitter is the herpes of the craft world; it gets everywhere, stays forever, and somehow ends up in your morning coffee three weeks after the party ends. I learned this the hard way on April 12, 2024, when my daughter Maya turned four and decided her life’s mission was to transform our Denver living room…
My kitchen floor in Buckhead still has a faint orange stain from the Great Cheese Curl Catastrophe of 2023. It was April 15th, and I was trying to pull off my son Leo’s 4th birthday on a shoestring budget while operating on four hours of sleep and a lukewarm espresso. I bought these paper-thin, generic…
I still have iridescent pink glitter embedded in the floorboards of my Jeep from my niece Lily’s fifth birthday last May. It was a swampy Saturday in Austin, the kind where the air feels like a warm, wet blanket, and I had foolishly agreed to transform my sister’s backyard into a “Mystical Woodland” for twenty-two…
My living room smelled like blue raspberry frosting and damp grass on April 12th, 2025. Fourteen six-year-olds were screaming the lyrics to a song about a carnivorous fish while jumping in a bouncy house that smelled slightly of old socks in the 88-degree Austin heat. This was Maya’s big day. My niece had decided that…
I am currently scraping dried green frosting off my favorite sensible flats. This is the absolute reality of teaching third grade in Houston during the chaotic fall birthday season. Last Tuesday, October 14th, I decided to host a reptile-themed celebration for my 19 eight-year-olds. The centerpiece was supposed to be a massive, floating arch made…
My living room floor currently looks like a neon-colored crime scene, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It was just last Tuesday, March 12, 2024, when I found myself knee-deep in crinkled Mylar and those annoying-but-addicting plastic hand clappers for my sister-in-law Sarah’s 30th birthday bash. I have three kids—Leo is 4,…
My kitchen floor still feels slightly tacky three months later. It is a permanent reminder of the Great Sundae Meltdown of August 14, 2025. Chicago summers do not play. 95 degrees. High humidity. 15 four-year-olds screaming for sugar. I had exactly $75 in my “fun fund” to make it happen for my twins, Leo and…
My son Leo turned six on May 12, 2025, and I found myself standing in the middle of our Denver kitchen surrounded by three different brands of paper goods. I am that dad. I check the GSM (grams per square meter) of paper plates. I read the fine print on dye toxicity. When we decided…
