My kitchen table looked like a Sanrio factory exploded on it last Tuesday night. Maya and Leo were turning eight, and I had exactly forty-seven dollars left in the “fun” envelope after paying the rent on our little place in Albany Park. Chicago winters are long, and by March 12th, these kids were climbing the…
My living room smelled like artificial pineapple and damp cedar for three whole days after Leo’s fourth birthday party last June. I thought I was being the cool mom by serving fresh coconut water in actual cracked shells, but four-year-olds and open containers of liquid are basically a recipe for a soggy floor disaster. We…
Houston humidity does things to buttercream frosting that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, especially when you are trying to stick baby shark candles for adults into a cake that is slowly sliding toward the floor. I stood in Sarah’s kitchen on April 12, 2025, clutching a lighter and wondering how we, as grown…
Last April 12, my kitchen table in Denver looked like a colorful plastic explosion had occurred. I was hunched over, squinting at a pile of tiny yellow heads, trying to figure out why the “custom” 3D-printed invites I ordered for my son Leo’s 10th birthday felt like they were made of sandpaper and broken dreams….
The Atlanta humidity was already wilting my spirit, and I hadn’t even started blowing up the balloons yet. Being a single dad means you wear a lot of hats, but on July 14, 2024, I was specifically struggling with the literal ones. My son Leo was turning seven, and his only request was a “Battle…
My living room in Atlanta looked like a glitter factory exploded on the morning of April 12, 2025. Maya was turning nine, and she had decided, with the unwavering conviction only a third-grader possesses, that her party needed to be “Frozen” themed despite the 82-degree Georgia heat. I stood there among 19 chairs, a stack…
Chloe stood in the middle of my Austin living room on March 12, 2025, surrounded by fourteen other eleven-year-olds who were all vibrating with the kind of energy only a Saturday afternoon spa theme can produce. My rug still smells faintly of the “calming” lavender oil I accidentally knocked over while trying to help someone…
Bowie, my golden retriever, looked absolutely ridiculous in his miniature neon green leg warmers, but he was the only guest who didn’t complain about the humidity in my Austin backyard last March. It was March 14, 2025, and I was deep in the trenches of planning a birthday for my nephew, Leo, who was turning…
My son Leo looked at me with those giant seven-year-old eyes on March 12 and told me he wanted a pirate party, which normally would have sent me into a financial panic if I hadn’t already survived the Great Dinosaur Debacle of 2022. I stood in the middle of my kitchen in Kirkwood, Atlanta, on…
I spent my Saturday morning scrubbing bright green “Cactus Juice” off my back deck in East Austin while my Goldendoodle, Barnaby, chewed on a stray piece of hay. My nephew, Leo, officially turned three last week, and my sister was spiraling over the cost of a “Wild West” bash she saw on Instagram. She showed…
