Last October, I stood in my kitchen in Austin, sweat beaded on my forehead, staring at a red velvet cake that looked less like a superhero tribute and more like a crime scene. It was my best friend Leo’s 30th birthday, and he is the kind of guy who still tracks Marvel release dates like…
My living room smelled like a mix of scorched vanilla and sheer panic three days before Leo and Maya turned five. It was March 12, 2025, and Chicago was doing that thing where it pretends to be spring but actually dumps six inches of slush on your doorstep. I had ten kids coming to our…
My kitchen floor was a literal sea of red, orange, and yellow crepe paper bits on the morning of April 12, 2025. It was the twins’ fourth birthday, and I had exactly three hours before sixteen toddlers descended upon our small Logan Square apartment. Maya and Leo were already vibrating with sugar-high energy from sneaking…
Glitter is basically the herpes of the craft world, and I say that with the weary affection of a man who still finds a random silver fleck in his beard three weeks after my daughter’s fifth birthday. Being a single dad in Atlanta means I spend a lot of time trying to look like I…
Last Saturday, March 14th, my backyard in Austin looked like Motunui exploded, and I’m still finding tiny plastic pineapples in my dog Barnaby’s water bowl. My niece, Maya, turned nine, and she had one demand: her 14 friends needed the most epic moana birthday treat bags ever seen in Travis County. I love a good…
My living room looked like a unicorn exploded in a glitter factory last Saturday. I was helping my best friend, Jen, throw a 10th birthday bash for her daughter, Maya, and the pressure in Austin is real. We didn’t want the basic “rainbow and sparkles” vibe that every other kid in South Congress has done…
My basement smelled like wet cardboard and cheap green paint on that humid Saturday in April. It was April 12, 2025, exactly three days before Leo and Maya’s 11th birthday, and I was staring at a mountain of boxes from the Aldi on Western Avenue. Most moms in my Chicago neighborhood hire planners or drop…
March 12th, 2024. I was standing in aisle four of the Buford Highway party supply store, sweating straight through my favorite vintage Braves t-shirt. My son Leo was turning 8 in exactly four days. The group chat of homeroom moms was already pinging with aesthetic balloon arch ideas and custom macaron orders. Me? I just…
Pink frosting was everywhere—on the dog’s tail, inside my favorite Austin-crafted ceramic vase, and deeply embedded in my niece Maya’s eyelashes. It was October 12, 2025, and I had somehow agreed to host a birthday bash for 14 two-year-olds in my backyard. The humidity was doing things to my hair that even Poppy from Trolls…
Jess texted me on a Thursday. “Dragon party. Arlo’s turning 4. I’ve been on Pinterest for two hours and I want to cry.” I sent back three words: “Put it down.” Then I told her I’d come over Friday night with coffee, a list, and zero dragon balloon garlands. Arlo had been asking for dragons…
