Why throw together another ordinary lettuce-and-tomato side salad when you can make a meal-worthy, mixed-greens masterpiece? Fresh baby spinach leaves, kale, avocado and artichoke hearts are just a few of the plant powerhouses tucked into this bowl. Sprinkle on some crunchy, protein-packed pumpkin seeds and top with a drizzle of zesty, homemade balsamic dressing—lunch is served!
Mommy guilt. It’s hard to avoid this feeling – because, well, you love your child – but sometimes you just need a break. And a glass of wine.
Everyone pities the poor middle child, but I’ve got to say: My 7-year-old daughter Rebecca has it pretty good. She’s got a big brother to teach her how to hit a fastball and a little brother who follows her around like a worshipful puppy. Except for one thing. For years, my oldest son complained that Rebecca annoyed him (and indeed she did). But now she’s getting a taste of her own medicine. Because Charlie, the baby, just can’t get enough of “Beba,” as he calls her (and boy do we hear her name often now that he can talk!) Read more →
On September 30th, I sat in the hotel restaurant with my grandpa, mom, aunt and cousin recapping the events of the day. They asked me how I felt and if I needed anything to drink (I had just completed my first half Ironman). I wondered how they had entertained themselves for the nearly three hours I was cycling. Apparently, they hit the ground shopping. Read more →
My almost 2-year-old isn’t talking, so we had a well-meaning lady from some large governmental agency check him out, to make sure everything was OK. After conducting a long and not-toddler-friendly array of tests, she said he probably wouldn’t qualify for Early Steps, but not to worry: “Get rid of the pacifier and he’ll start talking.” And so we did.
Charlie, however, did not start talking. But he did stop sleeping through the night. Read more →
Last weekend, we had three toddlers to shop for. So my boyfriend and I headed off to the toy store. And somehow spent an hour and a half there… presumably lost in the waning glow of our youth.
Hi, my name is Andrew and I am a mama’s boy. Although I am a 22-year-old college graduate and work full time, I must confess the following: My mom makes my bed, makes me dinner, does my laundry, packs my lunch–and I live with her rent-free. Read more →
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