Leo stared at me with those big, hopeful eyes on March 15th, exactly four weeks before his tenth birthday, and told me he wanted a “high-stakes Mario Kart tournament” in our living room here in Austin. I looked at Barnaby, our overly excitable Golden Retriever, then back at my son, and realized my Pinterest-perfect dreams…
My living room looked like a Pikachu exploded in a glitter factory. It was April 12, 2025, the morning of my son Leo’s ninth birthday, and I was staring at a wall that refused to cooperate with my vision of the perfect pokemon backdrop. Being a single dad in Atlanta means I handle the grill,…
I am currently staring at a smear of green buttercream on my kitchen island that looks suspiciously like a flattened lizard, and honestly, it is the perfect metaphor for my life as a mom of three in the Portland suburbs. Last Tuesday, while I was trying to negotiate a peace treaty between Leo, my four-year-old…
My kitchen table in Chicago was a disaster zone of pink glitter and half-eaten pizza crusts on July 12, 2025. I had exactly three hours before twelve screaming toddlers descended upon my living room for my niece Sophie’s big day. Everyone told me a budget hello kitty party for 4 year old was impossible in…
The living room floor looked like a rainbow exploded, and I was standing there with a vacuum that had given up on life three minutes ago. It was March 12, 2024, the day my son Leo turned eight, and I had learned a very expensive lesson about the physics of air conditioning and lightweight paper….
Austin humidity is unapologetic, especially when you are standing barefoot on a wobbly dining chair trying to stick paper to a textured stucco patio wall in the middle of a massive toddler meltdown. I learned this very specific lesson the hard way on March 14, 2026, while helping my best friend Chloe pull together her…
Sophie’s sixth birthday was a complete mud bath. We live in suburban Portland, so rain in October isn’t a surprise, but the level of sludge tracked into my dining room by twenty-two tiny boots was legendary. I was standing there, hair frizzing out like a cartoon character, trying to make a farm tablecloth for adults…
My son Leo turned eight on April 12, 2025, and I learned that twenty sweaty kids at Dick’s Sporting Goods Park will judge your soul based on a plastic bag. We stood on the sidelines of Field 14 in Commerce City. The wind was howling off the Rockies. I had twenty paper bags filled with…
My son Leo turned five last April, and the pressure to deliver a “Brick-tastic” celebration was mounting faster than a pile of unsorted 2×4 rectangles in the middle of a dark hallway at 2 AM. Living in Denver means dealing with unpredictable spring weather, so we had to move the festivities indoors, which meant eighteen…
My living room in Logan Square looked like a blue and orange tornado hit it last November 12th. Leo and Maya, my twins, were turning seven, and they had one demand: a Heeler house party. I looked at the prices for licensed decorations at the big-box stores near the Kennedy Expressway and almost fainted. They…
