Eleven years (of being surprised every single year).

Hi Nora, Hey, happy birthday! You are 11. ELEVEN! (What kind of mother sits and marvels at the age her child is turning every single year, like the passage of time isn’t a constant and, well, trackable thing? Your mother, that’s who. Get used to it, kid. Among the plethora of things that ain’t my forte, emotional counting is among the worst.) This blog post feels different than any I’ve written in this space in the entirety of its 12 {Read More}

Chicago to the Berkshires, Part 4: WTF Movers?!

Part 4. Part Four?! Movers. Here’s the thing about movers. …Why. Why are they like that. (And oh my goodness, we’re SO CLOSE to the end of this saga! Related: Can you believe that I’m still blogging about this nonsense? You should see me in person. Theoretically, if we were able to have parties, I’d be real real fun at parties.) So. To catch up: Our moving “specialists” were jerks with a phone call returnability record akin to my middle {Read More}

We’ve got news.

And our news is… We’re selling our home. Packin’ up and movin’ out. Hittin’ the trail. (Abusin’ the metaphors.) We’re beginning the end of our time in this impossibly gorgeous (and gorgeously impossible) house. But before we get into that, let me explain a little bit about where we’re going. And why. (The “how” is delightfully nebulous.) So. I moved to Chicago in the summer of 2002- close to 18 years ago- and P.J. has been here for almost 20. {Read More}

Ten things to know on your tenth birthday, Nora.

Dear Nora Jane, I know I usually wax poetic on your birthdays, telling you how much being your Mom has changed me (because it has), and how incredibly wonderful you continue to be (because you do), but today feels a little different. Today you’re ten. Yes, years old. Which means that the wildest adventure I ever began started ten years ago today, which also means that- somehow- you’re no longer the tiny pinched-face potato tied to my chest, and I’m {Read More}

21 things my daughters need to see me do (often)

21 things my daughters need to see me do (often): My daughters need to see me apologize when I’ve truly, honestly messed up. To my husband, to my friends and, yep, to my kids. They also need to see me: Hold out- and push for- a real apology when someone else has really, truly messed up. (And thoroughly eradicate “no worries” from my vocabulary as an automatic argument-ender when there should legit be some “worries.”) (Stop saying/posting/pre-empting potentially upsetting/important conversations {Read More}

Taking a Mama break with Netflix and the #StreamTeam

Disclosure: As a member of Netflix’s Stream Team, I bring tips and tricks and more streaming know-how than a raging river. (Or at least a comparable level.) Although I’m compensated, all thoughts, opinions, and ‘Trolls’ earworms are entirely my own.  *** Here’s a gigantic news flash for anyone who’s been a parent longer than one commercial break: Parents need time to themselves and- if you’ll pardon the momentary gender bias- mamas need time to themselves (and sometimes sneak it in {Read More}

My weirdest memories. (Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!)

My Mom has four daughters. I’m the second of four. Our household was simply always going a mile a minute, yet- YET- when I was in second grade and decided that I really, really needed my name to be Samantha, she actively attempted to call me Samantha for funsies. At least a handful of times. (The other times she was calling me Kate/Rachel/Emily/some amalgamation of pets’ names.) As a Mom now, that blows my mind; I was requesting that she disregard {Read More}

16 things you should know about my Mom (a birthday list)

Yes, it’s Tuesday. Yes, I’m going to go ahead and pretend it’s my normal Thursday posting date. (Listen, if recent events have taught me anything, it’s that- quite literally- anything can happen. Today I’m spinning that for good.) The main reason I’m posting today is to inform my fellow travelers on the internet that my mother, one Deborah J., is celebrating a birthday today. Which really means she’s being regaled throughout the day by her normal daughters, and then sporadically {Read More}