There’s a social contract when it comes to birthday parties for kids. You can’t just be a recurring guest, enjoying the bouncy houses, gift bags and balloon animals arranged and paid for by other parents. No, you have to reciprocate. Like it or not, there’s a kid pro quo. Other parents helped you kill a [...]
“Desitin in my cuticles” is not the first line of a poignant country song, but I keep thinking it should be. No. Desitin in my cuticles is what concerns me when I’m asked the question I get at least once a day: “Are you having another one?” Really, this should not be an annoying question. [...]
Parental shame is a two-way street, and my kid is already pedaling down it — in the pink tricycle he insisted we buy him. Will I embarrass my son? Sure. That’s a given. But that dude is going to shame me, too. Enough worrying about all I have done and will do to make him [...]
It doesn’t matter if the brick red polish on my fingernails is so chipped I look like Courtney Love coming off a bender. No, I mean, it deeply, truly does not matter. And I really believed it mattered. The sight of my jacked up hands on the steering wheel made me slightly tempted to veer [...]
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