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 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…
My living room looked like a Pepto-Bismol factory exploded last Tuesday afternoon. Pink tissue paper everywhere. Tiny plastic heels under the sofa. I was elbow-deep in heart-shaped stickers and holographic ribbon while my 4-year-old, Sam, tried to eat a faux-pearl necklace. We were three days out from my middle daughter Chloe’s 7th birthday, and I…
My kitchen table in Chicago was a sea of hot pink cellophane and tiny plastic figurines last April 14th. Leo and Maya, my six-year-old twins, were screaming about who got to hold the “Goldie the Fish” sticker while I tried to figure out why on earth I decided that 18 kids needed custom party favors….
Throwing a tropical luau in the middle of a brutal Chicago winter requires serious imagination and a very high heating bill. On March 12, 2024, my twins Leo and Maya turned nine. Outside, snow was actively burying our driveway. Inside, my living room was about to become a Polynesian paradise. They begged for a massive…
Twenty-one second graders in a small classroom smells exactly like wet grass clippings and unbridled hope. By the time 2:00 PM rolls around on a Friday in Houston, my caffeine levels are dangerously low and my patience for “he touched my desk” is thinner than a piece of single-ply tissue. I have taught at the…
Last October 14th, my kitchen looked like a crime scene, and honestly, I was okay with it. Max was turning twelve, that awkward age where they are too cool for “kiddie” stuff but still secretly want a pile of presents and a sugar high that lasts until Tuesday. He demanded an “Undead Portland” theme, which…
