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Disclaimer: In the name of full transparency, please be aware that this blog post contains affiliate links and any purchases made through such links will result in a small commission for me (at no extra cost for you). When I was a kid, my dad worked "in the city"--New York City. I thought it was so cool that he would get up very early, shave, put on freshly pressed clothes, put together his briefcase, and step into his car. I always imagined him having a sleek office, with a little old lady for a secretary, tracking down leads and catching criminals. I don't know my dad actually did, but I know he was gone a lot, so when he was home it was super special. Most mornings we were rushing off to school and only had a Pop Tart or a bowl of Kix. Sunday mornings were our time with our dad. We would all sleep in but when we heard our dad shuffling across the carpet in his slippers, we knew he was headed for the kitchen--and that meant brunch! Homefries, bacon, eggs,...

I was about to begin my 7th-grade year. Normally, I loved back-to-school shopping. I loved the smell of fresh crayons and pencils. I loved choosing my binders and notebooks and labeling, sorting, and organizing everything neatly into my backpack. But this would be the first year I remember also being excited about what I would be wearing to school on that first day. I was really looking forward to seeing the friends I had gotten to know the year before. To a 12-year-old girl, friends are everything. Fitting in with those friends is everything. So I had to be wearing the right clothes. My mom instinctively knew this and together we had picked out a pair of Reebok sneakers for me from a mail-order catalog. It was the first time I had ever been able to choose my own sneakers and have them be a name brand. I was ecstatic.  A few days after my mom had put in the order she got a call that made my heart sink--they were out of stock of her sneaker and wanted to know if she wanted to ...

This week was my daughter's birthday. Being the extroverted, fun-loving, child she is, she had been looking forward to a party with all her friends since Christmas. But with all that is going on in our nation and in our world, that was not possible. So we talked about it: as we ate lunch together, we talked about why we wouldn't be seeing our friends for a few weeks and why we didn't have money to get her a bigger bike. She was disappointed but also understanding. She's a good kid. So in order to make her birthday a little special, I wanted to do the little things I know she loves: like flowers, which are not in bloom here yet in PA, so we picked some up at the store. And making cupcakes, which she has been asking to do for a while. Y'all, I've never made cupcakes from scratch before--especially not gluten-free ones. I have friends who love baking and who make beautiful cakes for their kids' birthdays all the time. But I found a reasonable recipe and we had...

“Rule number one is, don’t sweat the small stuff. Rule number two is, it’s all small stuff." Robert Eliot A few months ago I drove over a deep pothole and instantly knew my tire was busted.  On the way to the car place, I was explaining to my daughter, in a slightly exasperated, woe-is-me voice, that we were going to get the car fixed. I explained that she had to be patient because it might take a long time and we would have to wait until the car was done to drive home.  She stopped playing with her dinosaur and started bouncing excitedly in her car seat. "Mommy is that the place with the table and chairs and the kid toys?!" "No honey, we're not going to a restaurant or the library. This is the car place." "Yeah, where we get our wheels fixed?" "Yeah, that one." "Mommy, there's a table and chairs and lots of toys there! Are we gonna play with them?!" I was too preoccupied at that moment to answer her ques...