I started writing for Momicillin almost two years ago. Back then, I had a three-year-old and a five-year-old and my days were a whole lot different than they are now. For one thing, I wasn’t working much. Milo was in Kindergarten and Belle had just started preschool, which occupied her three mornings a week. While the lazy afternoons with Belle were wonderful in many ways, I didn’t have a whole lot of balance in my life. We were still together (...Read More)

When you’re the mother of babies, toddlers, or preschoolers, people pretty much leave you alone. They know you’ve got your hands full. They understand you’re almost too busy to take breaths between the diaper changes and wine drinking. When your toddlers grow into grade-school kids, though, the game changes. Completely. Where your preschool of choice might’ve asked you to lend a hand here and there, grade schools, particularly public grade schools, have a million jobs that need doing for which (...Read More)

In some ways, I embrace technology whole-heartedly. I love my Macbook Pro, for instance, and have plunged into blogging and social networking like a Polar Bear Club Member dives into frigid, January waters. In other respects, though, I’m a complete luddite. DVR what? On Demand how? Electronic book reader uh uh! So I was surprised how excited I got when my husband ordered me a smart phone a couple weeks ago, spelling the end of my crappy pay-as-you-go. This sleek (...Read More)

My husband and kids ruined my dream of living inside a glossy catalogue full of lovely wine buffets and distressed maple headboards. You know the ones. They come to our mailbox thrice monthly and are mostly redesigned versions of the exact same accent furniture and Mason jar mugs. Still. When I was a singleton in my 20s, I got the catalogues in the mail and, sitting on my futon surrounded by hastily assembled bookcases and orange crate end tables, flipped (...Read More)

It’s that time of the year again. When snow dumps like wet concrete down a chute, mucking up roadways and canceling school drifts lazily to the ground. When holidays abound and we’re able to spend time together as a family arguing over whose toast has the most butter, slamming doors, and pelting each other with cranberries making gingerbread houses and cutting paper snowflakes. When we put up the dead pine tree that sheds needles all over the living room Noble (...Read More)