As a kid, I was a parent’s worst nightmare, mostly because I would announce to the neighbors my father farted at dinner or my mom had old food in the fridge. I constantly overshared, spilling family secrets to anyone who would listen. Now Mom and Dad are thankful that I not only have my own family to spread my T.M.I. (too much information), but...
I have officially hit blimp status as I approach my 33rd week of germination. I avoid waddling the streets of Ogden for fear I will be mistaken for the city’s latest crime-fighting weapon.
For the most part, I’ve done my duty of treating the second child a little less special than the anointed first born. I sipped Diet Coke, binged on...
I won’t lie. I love margaritas … with a side of guacamole, salsa, on top of a giant burrito, which is polished off with another margarita. I love a cold beer while simmering in the summer heat, watching my husband work in the yard, my sole job being ‘finger pointer.’ I drink mostly because it takes the edge off. If you know my...
My mother and father have four very different children — an overachiever, an artist, the future Warren Buffett and me — the kid who writes about her child’s bowel movements and temper tantrums, resulting in her near-miss mental breakdowns.
We couldn’t be more different (aside from our love of sarcasm) in our goals, temperament and...
I’m not naïve. I know my angelic 2-year-old will grow up, turn into a hormonal, developing teenager calling boys hotties. Maybe I’ll get lucky like my mother — I had zero interest in boys, instead focusing on soccer, crazy friends and Big Macs. To be fair, the fellas had zero interest in me, seeing as how I...
