I like to believe that I am the lawmaker in the family but that’s simply not true. That position resides with my wife.
My cousin has three small children and she also was afflicted by the drastic laundry curse that happens when your third baby arrives.
If a single emotion represented motherhood, it would be love. Blinding, unconditional, beyond-your-wildest-dreams, never-ending love.
My husband plays beer-league hockey on Wednesday nights. I don’t begrudge him this time that he takes; he needs it as much as I do since he does half the parenting in our home with three young daughters.
January is famous for self-reflection and setting resolutions for an improved year.
Since having kids, I’ve discovered that picky eating is a bit of a hot topic. I’ve heard the phrase “I’m not a short order cook” uttered by frustrated parents many times.
The word “resolution” used to make my skin crawl. When people would ask me what my resolutions were for the upcoming year, in most cases, I would stare at them blankly.
About 50 percent of the people I know got sick in the last 2 weeks of December.
“Hello” she said. Her little voice breaking up the worried thoughts that were racing through my mind.
Almost every summer my family joins another family to go camping in the…