We have a torture device in the garage. Or so one would assume based on the screams A. emits when that door creaks upward. Slowly, if I’m feeling maniacal. Slower, if my voice goes deeper and I ask her “Hey, kid, wanna take a bike ride?” OH, the humanity! No exaggeration: every day for a month when we picked her up from the sitter’s, she’d talk about her fourth birthday coming up! when! she was! going to get! a new! (...Read More)

Nothing will break my good mood — do you hear me, children? You cannot break me. Try as you might, and I’ll credit you all three for trying. Now that I’m working part time, after years of working five days a week til 6 p.m., I am resolved to enjoy this new season. Through gritted teeth, maybe, but I will be smiling the whole time. Not even did I whine when, on my Monday off, I pushed a stroller at (...Read More)

Last year’s parent-child swimming lessons were so epic, D. and I have already begun arguing over who has to be the one to don the bathing suits we both looked way hotter in before we had children (even him, yes) to take part in the class with our 4-year-old. I’m still trying to get over last year’s highlights. My favorite memory last year? Maybe A. standing beside the edge of the pool as the other kids jumped in, pee running (...Read More)

I’ve been back at work part-time about six or eight weeks now, and I was finally able to breathe normally when I moved back to full-time last week. So came Thursday, aka “Should’ve Had a Chia Pet Instead of Children” Day. Oh yes. It was five minutes to dinner time and I had a half-done grocery list on the counter (because I shop after bedtime to save my Saturday for more important things, like not sleeping in), three crying children (...Read More)