The Brain Game: The Adventure of Living With Folks Who’s Brains Aren’t Like Mine

I had one job. One job only. And I failed. Well, sorta. The task at hand—pack my teenaged daughter’s suitcase so my husband could whisk her away for a surprise Daddy-Daughter weekend. He had cashed in points, of course, to fly them to Los Angeles and catch their favorite British Boy Band concert. Yes, my husband has a favorite British Boy Band. Just one of his many quirks which include obsessively collecting frequent flyer miles, getting goose bumps from spread

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What’s There To Be Thankful For Anyway?

Some days I struggle with that sign. The one that hangs on the wall just inside our front door. “In Everything Give Thanks” it reads, painted on a simple wood plank. My friend, Dana, gave me that sign about six years ago, a reminder of a time when things weren’t feeling so thank-y around here. A reminder of a time when something that seemed bad at first, turned out to be rather awesome, something indeed to be thankful for. I don’t know

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The Way Thanksgiving Is Supposed To Taste

Here it comes. The family strife. The mess of our differences. All found At the bottom Of a casserole dish. I’m talking, Dear Reader, about Thanksgiving And Sweet potatoes. How do you love yours? Are your sweet potatoes mashed? In a pie? Squished into a casserole dish? Dare I even broach a topic more prickly than some which have divided nations? I will only whisper the word–topping. “To marshmallow or not to marshmallow?  That is the question.” Because we share

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Do Humiliating Mommy Moments Ever End?

In case you were wondering— The lady running around last weekend from one end of the metro area to the other in what can best be described as “Mom High Fashion of Shame.” Yeah, that was me. How shall I best describe my outfit? T shirt that I had slept in, so big it would still be loose on King Kong. Sweats from 1984, or thereabouts with stains and holes to match. Plastic Croc sandals. Uncombed hair half up in a clip.

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When Divorce Means Losing Your Friend’s Spouse

I got a divorce this week. Thank goodness, no. Not my husband and I. I think he would agree that were going pretty darned strong as we cross into our third year of marriage. Still, I got a divorce. A friend of mine let me know she and her husband made their split official. Signed the papers. Done. Over. And so I mean I got a divorce, Dear Reader, in the way I know you have, too. In that divorce

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14 Wishes For My Daughter On Her 16th Birthday

Dearest Daughter, We met when you were 11. I married Daddy when you were 13. The judge made you and me legal with our adoption when you were 14. This parenting gig really does fly by in flash, so before you zoom out the door, on the occasion of your Sweet 16, here are 14 wishes from me to you: 1. I wish that you know how much joy you’ve given your two mothers. Both Mommy in heaven, and now

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My Tears Have A Clock Of Their Own; Yours, Too?

“Did you cry?” There you have the number one thing my daughter wanted to know, as she quizzed me like I was a guilty suspect and she was a top detective on CSI. Truth is, I can’t really blame her. As I’ve shared with you Dear Reader, since becoming a parent, I’ve become a crier. If you ask my kids, they will tell you that I cry at the most ridiculous times. I cried when one filled out a form

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Picking Kids Up At School-Things They Don’t Tell You In The Carpool Lane

    Beware the dark scary high-wire act of motherhood that no one tells you about.      Until now.      That’s my job, reporting from the frontlines of a daily occurrence that was something in my pre-motherhood days I actually looked forward to.          I’m talking about—      The school pick up.      Pre-mommy me thought this would be a daily highlight!      After all, the kids have been gone all day.      You missed them. They missed you. As they

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Old Dog Love–I Got It Bad

Many days she smells no better than an old blanket that’s been soaking in a bucket of sour milk for week. Her body sports more lumps than a bride’s first attempt at making mashed potatoes. Still, I look at her and know that I’m in love. She is my 14 ½ year old dog. Together, we’ve reached a bittersweet chapter. I now know Old Dog Love. Our story goes back to the year 2000. I was single and living alone

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Parenthood: Becoming The Fool I Warn My Kids About

           You could’ve warned me.             I’m talking to you, Dear Reader, who has been in this parenting game longer than the few years I have.             Why did you not explain to me that becoming a parent is perfect blueprint for looking like a fool?             Why is it that the very thing I try to warn my kids NOT to do I end up doing myself.?             Usually, of course, right in front of their faces.             I

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