My kitchen currently looks like a rainbow exploded, and I’m pretty sure there’s a stray JJ sticker stuck to the bottom of my shoe from Leo’s party last Tuesday. Leo just turned four, and his obsession with Cocomelon has reached levels I didn’t think were humanly possible. Between him, seven-year-old Sophie, and my eleven-year-old Maya,…
My kitchen table looked like a pixelated crime scene last March. Sticky bits of green cardstock clung to my Denver Broncos coaster, and my inkjet printer was screaming for mercy. My son, Leo, was turning four, and he had decided—with the unwavering conviction only a preschooler can muster—that his entire existence depended on a “creeper…
I stood in my Denver living room surrounded by empty Amazon boxes, regretting every life choice that led me to voluntarily host thirteen toddlers. Two-year-olds are basically tiny, drunken pirates anyway. They steal your snacks. They mumble incoherently. Occasionally, they try to bite you. So for my son Leo’s second birthday on March 2nd, a…
My kitchen smelled like burnt hot dogs and stale gasoline on March 12, 2023, after I spent $412 on a professional track rental that rained out in twenty minutes. I stood there in my damp Atlanta Falcons jersey, looking at my son Leo, who was turning five and crying because the “lightning fast” cars were…
My kitchen floor currently looks like a literal disaster zone, but in the best way possible. There are orange plastic shards everywhere, a lingering smell of chocolate pudding, and one very tired Golden Retriever named Cooper snoring in the corner. Last Saturday, March 15th, I hosted my nephew Leo’s 6th birthday party here in Austin….
My living room looked like a police dog and a fire pup had a very stylish baby, and honestly, I wasn’t mad about it. Last April, specifically on Saturday the 12th, I found myself standing in the middle of a DIY disaster zone in my Austin bungalow. My son, Leo, was turning twelve. He’s at…
My kitchen floor was a literal sea of pink crepe paper and half-eaten carrot sticks last April 12th when my twins, Leo and Mia, turned seven. If you have ever tried to wrangle twenty-one screaming second-graders in a small Chicago apartment during a sudden rainstorm, you know the true meaning of “muddy puddles.” I had…
Leo decided, with all the gravity a three-year-old can muster, that his fourth birthday party had to be “fancy like a king.” This was last April 12th, right in the middle of our typical Portland drizzle, and I was staring at a living room full of primary-colored plastic blocks thinking how on earth I was…
My living room in Denver looked like a soggy shipwreck last Tuesday afternoon. I had twenty-four sheets of heavy-duty cardstock soaking in cold Earl Grey tea on the coffee table. My eight-year-old, Leo, poked at a damp corner and asked if we were making “old trash.” No, Leo. We were crafting the perfect pirate invitation…
Barnaby looked absolutely ridiculous in his miniature denim vest, but my human guests were the real problem. It was April 19, 2025, and the Austin humidity was already thick enough to chew. I had spent three weeks planning “Barnaby’s Barks and Barbecue” for his third birthday, and I realized ten minutes before people arrived that…
