It has been a long time since I’ve read “Dante’s Inferno,” but I think that Dante had it wrong. I do not remember seeing anything in there about homecoming mums.
I work with a lot of people who have young children. I used to watch them and be so grateful that I wasn’t the one having to schlep around diaper bags and strollers anymore.
I celebrated another birthday recently, and each of my kids wrote me a homemade card. While I love all of them, I really wanted to share the card from my 10-year-old daughter.
I recently had one of those moments, when I was talking to my now-teenage daughter about going to Six Flags unsupervised, and I realized that I have officially become my mother.
I’ve always known that there would be aspects of my childhood to which my children would be completely unable to relate. “What’s a dial tone?” my son asked.
In these final hours before Thanksgiving, I have to admit I’m feeling just a bit guilty.
Three years ago, my son taught me a lesson that I thought would stay with me forever. I guess it didn’t stick too well, because last week I had to learn it all over again.
I have a couple of friends who, each day this month, are posting to their Facebook pages another thing about which they’re thankful.
For weeks our son, who turns 15 tomorrow, has pestered us to allow him to go to one of those giant “house of horrors” places with his new high school friends.
Any mom who works outside the home knows how challenging it can be to balance work and family. I’m fortunate to have a lot of help getting my kids to and from their activities.
Dear TxDOT (or whichever entity is responsible for finishing the seemingly never-ending construction on our North Texas roads), Please, please, please, please, pretty please hurry up and finish.
Okay, no big postings this week, but I did want to share a funny story. I’m sitting in church with my family on Ash Wednesday moments before we receive the ashes on our foreheads, and […]