She Works Hard for the Money!

Marvel Comics and artist Banksy both agree: being invisible is a superpower. You’re there, but you’re not there. The same goes for being a ghostwriter, where staying hidden is a large part of the power. In fact, it’s a core part of the talent, and oftentimes is a contractual obligation.

Freshman year of college may be a little rocky, and homesickness can plague a freshly minted student who has gone away for school. There’s a lot to get used to, and for many students, it could be the first time they are on their own navigating a new place and even doing chores like laundry.

Missing home can be expected and it can cause bumps in the college experience. For Jennifer Wood-Thompson, whose daughter is a recent college freshman at the University of Kentucky, the bumps were more like mountains, and the possibility of homesickness was a sizable concern to the mom of three from Indianapolis.

One thing everyone knows about me — I'm a big fan of scary movies. I'm also a self-proclaimed pop culture savant. So, I'm not kidding when I say that my "Jaws"-themed Sperry canvas sneakers bring me joy from both a comfort and fashion perspective. They are the pair I like so much that I want to wear them everywhere, but they are also the pair I never wear for fear that I will bumble my way into a muddy puddle or skip my way through a mound of dirt and completely ruin them.

There was a time in my life where I'd probably think fertility drugs like Menopur and Ovidrel were just some super unfortunate celebrity baby names. That was before pelvic ultrasounds, estradiol, and tacrolimus became a part of my everyday coffee break chit chat. It was during a simpler, and deeply naïve era in my existence, in which Follistim and Gonal-F were surely just the latest characters to be killed off in Game of Thrones.

Let me set the scene. Homestead, Florida, December 25th, 1987. My siblings and I had torn open the last of our individual presents. There were Barbies, action figures and books as far as the eye could see. It was a glittery and paper disaster — except for one gift. One big gift that had not yet been opened, and was addressed to the whole family.

My 3-year-old son might be the next minimalist art sensation; legit, the kid may be the next Frank Stella. The little guy draws three squiggly lines in two different colors on a blank paper plate, and boom — we got art. Today my fridge, tomorrow the Smithsonian.

Did you know that Diplodocus poop weighed about two tons, or that the T-rex was known as the Lizard King (sorry Jim Morrisson)? I didn’t, well, not until my 3-year-old son told me. He knows EVERYTHING about EVERY type of dinosaur.

Whether we're talking hybrid or full-time remote, commuting from the bedroom to the living room is here to stay. While working from home allows for more focus, more flexibility and a morning routine with less time stuck in traffic, sometimes our remote-working loved ones need some help beating loneliness or unplugging at the end of the day.

Finding the perfect gift already feels like a gamble. Finding the perfect gift under $25 might feel like a mission impossible. The line between thoughtful gift and dust-covered tchotchkes is thin, especially this holiday season: Between inflation and quality concerns, there is a healthy fear of the old adage “You get what you pay for.” But fret not, friends: Select has curated a thoughtful, fun and practical list of proven gifts all within that $25 price zone.

Martial arts-based Kickboxing classes combine cardio fitness, speed, and power with boxing moves that challenge every muscle in your body. Research has found that not only is the workout great for the body, but regular exercise like kickboxing causes you to become resistant to the emotional effects of acute stress, which in turn, may protect against diseases related to chronic stress burden.

Editor's Note: There's one name in the byline above but this post was written by two star Arkies and experts: Angela Hatem and Maddie Kahl. 

Happy Pride Month friends of Arkus!  I know what you are thinking, “Maddie and Angela, it’s July.  Pride Month just ended.”  Well friends you are right, June is over, but much like all the major holidays, we like to keep Pride in our hearts and in our actions all year long!   

As you may know, Pride Month is a powerful time of year for the LGTBQ+ community and their Allies.  There are fantastic parades, peaceful protests and most importantly, the recognition and the freedom to be one's true and awesome self. While a parade and a party might not be feasible each and every month, we CAN bring the spirit and power of Pride with us 365/24/7!

In 2019, I gave birth to my son on Good Friday. As someone who comes from a big Catholic family, and as someone who looks for signs from the universe, I believed that his birth date was a positive omen. I wouldn’t say it was a magical kind of omen. It was more of a, “Hey, he’s measuring to be about a 10- to 12-lb. baby. Let’s schedule a C-section! What day is good for you?” practical kind of omen.

When it comes to choosing careers, I consider myself a realistic dreamer. I shoot for positions that merge the skills I'm professionally good at with my passions and pipe dreams.  

Growing up, I was hugely into music. I knew my chances of becoming the next Adele were slim to none, so when I was 23 I took a job in event planning at a radio station.  

When my son Wyatt was born, I was thunderstruck with love. For those first 10 days, I just stared at him, mesmerized by this perfect chubby little baby. There was no place on earth I would rather be.

High-schoolers and the perfect holiday gift. It’s a riddle, a maze and myth all in one.

Last year you thought, too babyish. The year before that, you skewed too grown up. But not this year. This year, with a little help from our editors, of course, you will hit the bulls-eye when it comes to the high-schooler you have no idea what to buy for.

I grew up in a technologically dark yet neon lit time known as the ‘80s. There were no streaming services, phones were chained to walls and Facetime involved looking at someone’s actual, physical and in-person face. Instead of relying on Netflix or PlayStation for entertainment, we had to make our own unstructured fun by ourselves. Fun required imagination, creativity, a slew of comfy couch cushions and free reign over the linen closet. That's right — this was the golden age of the play fort.

Remember how a barefoot and agitated Bruce Willis flung himself off the top of the Nakatomi Plaza in "Die Hard"? That’s exactly what I picture when I think about my 2-year-old attempting to rappel out of his crib. Obviously there are way less fireballs and helicopters involved, but for this mom, the amount of danger is on par.

Someone in a grumpy mood is said to have woken up “on the wrong side of the bed.” But is there truly a “right” side? I conducted a quick social media poll asking about sides, and found that where we like to sleep on the bed is a deeper issue than just right versus left.

Sometimes, all you need to deliver instant happiness in your child is some soap and a wand. Bubbles are astonishing, really, and a good reminder that when it comes to kids, we just need to keep it simple.

My father's life motto has always been, "I could have found it cheaper," which is perhaps why I have never looked at a sticker price and instantly accepted it myself. This attitude has served me well, but I never expected it would save me thousands on my IVF treatment and eventually afford me a family.

Teaching a teenager to drive has never been easy. While it can be (or you want it to be) a fun and exciting rite of passage, it can also be stressful and panic-inducing for both of you. But even in a pandemic, the roads are open and teens are on them. 

It’s 7:30 in the evening and I am sitting down for the first time. As I look over at my sliding glass door and my floor-length curtains now tied up four feet above the ground, I see this has become a toddler’s house.

He’s making a list and he’s checking it twice. My son and my nephews that is. Surely, Santa will be conducting his annual quality assurance checks soon enough, but he has a smidge of time left before reporting for duty.

As a child of the '80s, my STEM abilities were, in a word, limited. My biggest scientific feat was realizing that the lizards I caught in my backyard couldn’t survive in the oxygen-depriving tupperware I housed them in. As a self-aware kid, I knew my best chance of becoming scientific was to hitch my wagon to a scientist — which is exactly what I did. Determined to at least place in my elementary school science fair, I hitched my wagon to my best friend/future medical wizard, Nicole.

If you were to look inside the bottom drawer of my mother's old jewelry box, you would find treasures from days long since passed: a simple gold bracelet she picked up in the '80s, four sets of earrings that have been missing from their mates for decades, and tucked in the very back of the drawer, just behind the macaroni necklace I made her in kindergarten, you will find three sets of 38-year-old baby teeth that were rescued and stockpiled by the tooth fairy.

It sounds like the title of a spooky movie, but really it’s just another chapter in the saga that is 2020. Coming this October to a neighborhood near you, “The Year There Was No Halloween”. A chilling title when you’re an adult, a downright tragedy when you’re a kid.

So in my defense, I grew up in Florida. As a child of the sunshine state, I knew I had to check for gators before sitting on the toilet, that cockroaches didn't just scurry, they actually flew, and at that point, the most popular and only sound machine I had ever heard of was the Miami Sound Machine.

When my son was born, it's hard to say who was more angry. Obviously, my ginormous 9 pound 13 ounce baby seemed pretty upset. The OB/GYN probably would have preferred to yank out a standard-sized baby instead of a full linebacker. But if you are going by looks alone, my brand new baby's skin was probably the most rageful thing in that delivery room.

On 23 August 1992, I was 14 years old and living in Homestead, Florida. I was oblivious to struggle, pain and my own mortality. But within 24 hours, that all changed.

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Back in March, when COVID-19 was almost completely mysterious, I spent an insane amount of time disinfecting everything in my path. I sprayed down mail with Lysol. I scrubbed groceries clean before they crossed the threshold of our house. I sterilized every toy my son could have possibly slobbered on

The moment is different for every parent. Maybe it's when you put your curling iron in the fridge. Or perhaps it's when you poured formula into your coffee. For me, it was when I backed my car into a Toyota Camry named Doug that was parked in my own driveway.

I always assumed that once I made the decision to start a family, and put myself in the stirrups, that science and my body would just do their jobs

I’ve never liked it when strangers squeeze and snuggle my son. And now, there’s a pandemic thrown into the mix. As stay-at-home orders begin to ease up in favor of social distancing, I’ve noticed that adults are quite respectful of my space. But they’re feeling surprisingly free about sashaying into my baby’s. 

Dear Andrew,

We have never met but I am writing to thank you for our son, Wyatt.

I call you Andrew because your anonymous four-digit donor number seems so impersonal, plus your donor profile described your celebrity lookalike as Andrew Garfield.  

Recently, my son turned one year old, and with this milestone, he was due for his 12-month wellness visit. Or—wait—was he...

Do you know what Zoom-bombing is? Neither did I—until about 2 minutes ago. My 15-year-old cousin was Zoom chatting with her high school basketball teammates. It was all hoops and happiness until—boom!—they were hacked by an unknown predator and his not-so-private parts.

My 95-year-old grandma is in quarantine at her nursing facility. Here are a few ways my family and I are staying in touch and lifting her spirits.

My best friend and I were going through fertility treatment at the same time. I thought it would bring us closer. But she feared I would get pregnant before her and that destroyed our longtime friendship for good.

Womb available for possible wombmate.  Spacious enough for either one or potentially two residents. Described by one doctor as picturesque. Owner raves, “It’s the Napa of uteruses!” Ready for immediate occupancy, preferred 40-week occupation. References and numerous sonogram photos are available upon request.

When my Grandma Patty turned 98 years old, she had a party to celebrate her big day and feasted on angel food cake, soup and breadsticks. She was, and I quote, “tickled” by the whole day and the great party turnout. She kept saying to our family, “Can you believe I am 98 years old?!”

Allow me to paint you a sometimes itchy (and always splotchy) picture that is the irony of my life:

I have a sun allergy — but I love the sun.

Since I was 20-years-old, within 30 minutes of the sun hitting my sensitive flesh, I would break out in hives from head to ankle. My allergy was something I was highly aware of anywhere I went. At the pool, at a picnic, when I played softball or a simple walk around my neighborhood — there was always a decent chance I would look down to find raised red bumps on every inch of my skin.

When you’re an Arab American, you sort of give up on ever having your name said or spelled correctly without you having to say or spell it out yourself first—so in honor of Arab American Heritage Month, we’re breaking down the syllables and the sounds of 25 common Arabic names that non-Arabs are constantly mispronouncing.

In recent years, there have been moves to make mental health care less taboo—and yet, far too many of us still leave our mental well-being on the back burner because of work, lack of time, budget constraints, or other constraints. The good news is: Mental health apps make it easier for each of us to prioritize our well-being and self-care because they’re just so convenient. After all, most of us rarely go anywhere without our phones—which means those apps are always with us. 

Red-cup season at Starbucks is well underway, and holiday cheer has begun to fire on all cylinders. The signature reusable cup started out as a marketing tool, and now nearly everyone on the planet looks forward to its release as the mark of the start of the holiday season — even baristas. 

Chances are, you know someone whose favorite place to be is out in the fresh air, surrounded by nature. Perhaps you have a partner, friend or family member who enjoys running, cycling, camping or hitting the slopes. Or maybe there’s someone on your list who you’re hoping to gently push off the couch by enticing them with some stylish athleisure wear.

Some would argue that our friends on the Mayflower hosted the first Friendsgiving. Others would say the cast of "Friends" started the trend. This debate will go on for centuries, but regardless of who started Friendsgiving, I will boldly claim that my friends and I OWN Friendsgiving.

Who doesn’t love to throw on some fuzzy socks, snuggle up in a warm blanket or read an edge-of-your-seat suspense novel next to a luxuriously scented candle at the end of a stressful day? Giving someone a cozy gift is like sending them a warm hug and the all-clear to relax and enjoy some “me time.”

This series ends with the renovation of a shed, but begins with the search for a home. Maybe that reads more like the start of your daily horoscope rather than an opener of a before-and-after renovation story, but allow me to explain.

When summer brings hot temperatures and muggy humidity, sometimes even the best air conditioning systems aren’t enough to cool you off. If you’re a warm-blooded individual—or anyone living in the current heat wave in the United States—you might be looking for more ways to stay cool in the sweltering weather

It’s coming…It’s so close you can almost hear it. For single mothers everywhere, it nearly deserves its own Jaws type theme song.  “Duunnn dunnn… duuuunnnn duun …” Father’s Day is nearly upon us, and with it comes the inevitable “boo-hoo” comments and questions for single moms.

“Oh, are you just going to stay home and ignore the day?”

“Oh, your poor buddy. Father’s Day must be so sad for him.”

You’ve heard and probably even said: “I have to pee every two seconds!” It’s an exaggeration for most, including myself — but not so far from the truth, either. For two years, I have had the constant sensation that I have to pee. When I told folks about it, they would giggle and tell me it’s what happens when you have a baby. For a while, I thought the gaggle of gigglers was right. 

When I became a single mother by choice, I knew one day I would need to have a big conversation with my son about his anonymous sperm donor. 

I've never been scared to have this conversation, but I've been intimidated. I just don't want to mess it up. There's a small part of me that wishes a Netflix show would take the wheel and drive this home for me, but a larger part knows that as his mom I need to prepare for the big question: "Where's my daddy?"

We all know that shopping for a middle- or high-schooler can be tricky.

Gift cards and video games have been the usual go-to presents for years. But why not show how gift-savvy you are by opting instead for one of these gifts for teens. We know you'll find a winner in this list of not-so-boring stuff — it's all made just for them! Whether your teenager is into sports or makeup, this list has a gift for everyone

Like most toddlers, my son is eager to help — or as he so gently puts it, “Wyatt do it!”

Wyatt wants to take out the trash. Wyatt wants to mow the lawn. Wyatt wants to vacuum the rug. Wyatt also seems to want to talk about himself in third person.

Did you know you can build a sand castle without sand? I know this sounds a little like a morning riddle you might get from your Starbucks barista, but evidently it’s a fact. Well, according to my two-year-old son, it’s a fact. Every morning, as I make some frozen pancakes for his breakfast, my boy sits on his playroom floor, surrounded by a zillion colorful blocks and builds “sand castles”.

Years before my pregnancy test went from minus to plus, I was nesting for my baby. Like most first-time moms, I had pinned several crafty and whimsical versions of a nursery for my future son or daughter. 

It's fair to say that in my life I've watched a lot of TV. Okay, that's not completely true: It's more accurate to say that in my life, I've watched an absolute boatload of TV.

Like many women, I have a bunch of bags and purses I've amassed over the years. They're all perfect for a day in the office, a casual hang at the local coffee shop, ideal for a zany night out on the town and — as I quickly learned — none that helpful to a new mom with zero clue of what she’s doing.

I knew this day would come, but as with all of my son’s developmental milestones, it shocked the bejesus out of me. It was a Saturday. I was sipping lukewarm coffee, minding my own business, when out of nowhere my almost two-year-old son waddled up to me, looked me dead in the eyes and asked to go to the bathroom.

Medically defined, infertility is the inability to become pregnant after one year or longer of unprotected sex. Emotionally, it’s a nightmare for any person who has ever dreamed of becoming a parent. It’s a medical condition that many suffer in silence, treat in secret, and pay for out of pocket. And the worst part is: Not everyone has equal access to the treatments that offer hope for couples struggling to conceive.

When I tell you I am part of a musical family, I am really underselling things. In most "musical families" there is usually one kid that plays a mean guitar or a dad that was the star baritone of his high school choir.

My family bypasses that brand of musicality and orbits right into Partridge Family territory.

I may be dating myself with this reference, but much like Johnny 5, I need input! (For those of you who are confused and staring at your computer screen, do not let the generation gap completely separate us. Do a quick Google search, download the 80s classic “Short Circuit,” and resume reading.) 

When I was eight years old and signed up to run cross country, I was aware that I would be participating in a race and that there would be a lot of running. I did it anyway. Six years ago, I joined my friend Kelly — who, like me, was raised by television — to create the most powerful team ever to participate in a Friends-themed trivia night. Every participant was well aware that there would be Friendly foes. When I was 30-none-of-your-bees-wax, and captain of team Switzerland in the Beer Olympics, there was nothing neutral about it. I wanted gold. 

My ears are too sensitive for most earrings. My hands are too small, like comically sideshow small, to pull off most rings. My neck is less swan-like and more inner tube-esque. I wouldn't even know where to begin to find a necklace fit for an inner tube.

I will be the first to admit it, I hate to move. Houses, apartments, furniture, out of an extremely comfy chair — moving is oftentimes a huge chore

Winter is coming. Sorry for the dramatic statement, but it is ... it’s coming. So are rainy days and lazy days and days where you just can’t seem to find another activity to entertain your kid. No parent wants to hear this and I really don’t want to say it, but realistically, more e-learning days may be coming too.

We have all been there, the vague email, the bold wording, the unnecessary use of caps lock.  What does it all mean, or does it mean nothing it all? 

The passing of Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman due to colon cancer is tragic. He was young, he was successful, and he carried the weight of his devastating diagnosis quietly and privately. He is also not alone.

In the understatement of the year, school is going to look very different this fall. Your kitchen isn’t just your kitchen, it’s your child’s art studio. The living room now doubles as a geometry classroom and a gymnasium. 

Whether I realized it or not, I have always been a huge fan of Canadian exports. Barenaked Ladies has always been my favorite band. South Park was always my favorite show. Ryan Reynolds and Alanis Morissette, my favorite celebrity couple.  

Up until a few years ago, Abigail Reed’s politics were in line with those of her parents. She understood their point of view, and she followed it.

Summer jobs are more than a backdrop for 1980’s teen romcoms—they are an adolescent right of passage. 

The world is in overwhelming flux right now. On one hand, you have a terrifying global pandemic; on the other, a society in the midst of a social injustice awakening.

Many families want to be a part of the movement but are still apprehensive about venturing too far from their quarantine safe space.

I always thought that motherhood was in the cards for me. I assumed that because I was a woman, and because I wanted children, it was a guarantee that life owed me. 

My family and I have been in quarantine for approximately 14 days and already we have begun to run out of our cache of emergency junk food supplies. Already, two half-gallons of death by chocolate ice cream have been devoured, and as of 2pm today, our Pop-Tart reserves have diminished to a single lowly strawberry one that nobody wants but someone will eventually eat. It’s desperate times.

This time last year, I was 36 weeks pregnant with my son. It was my first pregnancy, and I was a rule follower to the extreme. No caffeine. No lunch meat. No jumping on trampolines. I loved doing all those things, pre-pregnancy, but it wasn’t just about me anymore. 

The cost of IVF treatment in the U.S. can be prohibitive for many. But that's not the only reason some patients, including myself, are making short and long hauls for their fertility treatments.

I was 39 and 349 days old, dancing in the middle of an Indianapolis field to Paul Simon’s “Call Me Al,” while wearing a captain’s hat and hugging a cardboard cut-out of my high school Glamour Shots photo...

Did you know that Diplodocus poop weighed about two tons, or that the T-rex was known as the Lizard King (sorry Jim Morrison)? I didn’t, well, not until my 3-year-old son told me. He knows EVERYTHING about EVERY type of dinosaur.

Growing up, my dad’s handiest skill was finding his checkbook, grabbing his pen and telling me it was time to get the oil changed. My Grandpa Gene, on the other hand, had an engineer’s mind with a MacGyver-like technique. Why, he would wonder, should I spend my good money on new insulation when back issues of Grandma Patty’s J.C. Penney’s catalog would work just fine? Why, he would muse, should I exert all this extra energy in creating the world’s first dashboard camera, when tinkering with the vehicle's side mirrors and plane geometry, would easily rid the Dodge Grand Caravan of all potential blind spots? (This actually did happen in preparation for an 18-hour road trip from Indianapolis to Miami.)

In most circles, it’s considered unsophisticated, uncouth, and uncultured, and all of the other shameful “un” words, to talk about the money you make and the way you make it. 

It was in the late evening on an inordinately warm November night, in the kitchen of my home, with tears running down my cheeks that I said "I do" to my shotgun wedding. It was a simple affair — no guests, no fancy dress, no big cake, just some Ben & Jerry's in the fridge and a ring on my hand.

Last time on Angela bought a house with a ginormous barn, I had recently come to terms with the house I wanted, and the shed I wasn’t so sure about. The house was a home run. It was the size we needed, in an area I loved, and it came with not one, but two fireplaces. As an added “bonus,” some would say, the home also came with a very large partially finished shed. When I finally sat down with my friend who has a doctorate in Psychology, I figured out it wasn’t the maintenance of the barn I was afraid of, it was the promise.

Recently my Grandma Patty turned 98 years old. She had a party to celebrate her big day and feasted on angel food cake, soup and breadsticks. She was, and I quote, “tickled” by the whole day and the great party turnout. She kept saying to our family, “Can you believe I am 98 years old?!”

Nope Grandma, we don’t.

If you are looking for a speedy outlet to vent your feelings or talk through an issue, Calmerry offers that convenience with a few taps of the keyboard. If you are looking to really dig deep, though, or if you are dealing with a serious mental health condition, Calmerry may not be a good option for you.

Choosing an online karate class comes down to three key variables; your needs, your starting level, and your goals.  

When looking for a class, consider the cost-benefit of attending online vs. in person. Would you benefit more from the camaraderie and hands-on environment of an in-person class, or would you be better suited to a course that offers flexibility and the ability to train and practice in your own space at your own pace?  

While the nation tracked Hurricane Ian’s movement throughout Florida, I was reminded of 14-year-old me, nearly 30 years ago, being thrust into adulthood in the aftermath of Hurricane Andrew. My hometown of Homestead, Florida, was rocked to ruins by the unforgiving winds of Andrew. With sustained gusts of 165 mph, the Category 5 storm snapped utility poles, flipped semis, leveled over 50,000 homes and stole 23 lives. 

You know the ole saying, “God made dirt, and dirt don’t hurt”? I’m a super fan. My mother on the hand, not so much. In her world, “God made dirt, and dirt makes germs.

My mom is germ-aversive in a big way. Bleach is her favorite scent and disinfectant wipes are her favorite accessory.

It's a tragedy no parent wants to talk to their children about. And yet, after the news that an 18-year-old man murdered at least 19 children and two teachers at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, many parents are wondering how—and even if—they should bring up the topic with their kids.

Growing up, maybe I watched way too many ABC Afterschool Specials. In one hour of teen-focused television, I was pretty convinced that any amount of sex would result in an insta-pregnancy.  

Sidebar on me, if you couldn’t already tell, I went to loads of Catholic school, and while my naivete was off the charts, I wasn’t a complete fool.  I knew that people didn’t get pregnant each and every time they had intercourse. Duh. 

I've planned every sort of event — from a citywide fireworks show to a drive-up wedding shower. I used to work as a project coordinator for Emmis Communications, as a sponsorship and promotions coordinator for Live Nation, and on planning committees for events such as Super Bowl XLVI, the Big Ten Football Championship Game, and the US Olympic Diving Trials. Man, was it a wild 20-year ride.

The college years are an interesting life space. These 18- to 21-year-olds are old enough to vote and buy a lottery ticket yet far too young to rent a car or run for president. Yes, college is this weird intersection of life where you are still fairly footloose and fancy-free, yet frighteningly aware that responsibility will soon be nipping at your heels.

So there was the vision I had for my son’s first Christmas, and then there was the reality. In my head, my 1-year-old son would wake up on Christmas morning filled with excitement for this special milestone day. We would make Christmas cookies, we would read a holiday classic while nestled by the fire, and I would watch with motherly delight as my boy opened his very first Christmas gift.

Remember how a barefoot and agitated Bruce Willis flung himself off the top of the Nakatomi Plaza in "Die Hard"? That’s exactly what I picture when I think about my 2-year-old attempting to rappel out of his crib. Obviously there are way less fireballs and helicopters involved, but for this mom, the amount of danger is on par.

24 hours after my son was born, it was time for his first bath. This, I learned, is a big newborn deal. I had no idea this was such a major rite of passage, but, it turns out, I wasn’t completely wrong.

My 2-year-old son Wyatt has so many wonderful gifts. He’s amazing with words, he’s awesome with music and you should see this guy do a puzzle. (I have often joked that if there was a Bobby Fischer of puzzles, it would be Wyatt.) But unfortunately, being a solid sleeper has never been one of them.

It’s been a year since our collective world’s came to a quarantined halt. Since I, as a single mother by choice, began working from home with a then 11 month old. It’s been a year since I have seen my parents, my siblings, and my 96-year-old grandma. It’s also been a year since I last cried.

Children’s worlds were turned upside down in May 2020, when George Floyd died after former police officer Derek Chauvin pinned the Black man’s neck to the ground with his knee for nine minutes.

I’m the first to admit to the world I’m not Forever 21. I’m more like, Presently 42. More like presently 42 with a 20-month-old baby, that is.

Never in the history of teenagerdom has a tween or teen ever wished for a pair of sensible school shoes to be wrapped up under the Christmas tree. Their current shoes may be tattered and even a half size too small, but practical gifts should not take up valuable present real estate under the tree. Tree space is reserved for bicycles, new speakers and if you have one heck of a tree, a brand new car! Everyone knows that practical gifts are reserved for the oversized sock hung by the chimney with care.

When I had my son 17 months ago, seasoned moms everywhere warned me about the standard things. The never sleeping again thing, the sore nipple thing, the "you're going to poop on the table" thing.

My son was a behemoth of a baby, so he was delivered via C-section. No pooping on the table for me. My milk never came in, so my nipples were salvaged. I lost the battle when it came to sleep, but I figured two out of three isn't so bad.

If you ask the average 13-year-old how successful their parents are at gift-giving, they'll likely tell you it's a struggle. A six pack of sensible new socks? Boo! A pair of reversible slacks? No, thank you! School shoes? Skip!

Sofia Pierce of Carmel, Indiana, won’t be shy about telling you all the things she knows. After all, at seven years old, she knows a lot. But when she learned that even presidents can get sick, her mind was blown. 

When three-year-old August Collisson peeks outside the windows of his house in Los Angeles County, he can see that it’s raining. But it isn’t the puddle-jumping rain that he’s used to. It’s raining ash from a wildfire that’s been burning since March, 10 miles from his home

In 2017, I started buying sperm over the internet.

I was 38 years old and in the very early stages of becoming a single mother by choice. The best way to start a family, I figured, was to use an anonymous sperm donor. My fertility specialist provided me a list of FDA-regulated cryobanks and wished me luck.

Pimples and braces. The death grip on the steering wheel. The chicken brake on the passenger side floorboard. These are just some of the things you can still count on seeing in modern day driver’s ed classes. But not everything was meant to last: Buckle up for a quick rundown of five driver’s ed staples that have been left on the side of the road.

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This school year is going to be downright bizarre. There is a lot of new in our new normal to adjust to—especially if, in addition to everything else, you’re also the new kid in what is suddenly a virtual classroom

When people find out I am 42, and a mom, and have never been married, there is a face. The face has a very standard look, but it can be interpreted a couple of different ways.

Going from an office of 30 to an office of one can really make a dent in the staff camaraderie.  Teams that used to lunch together now Zoom together, and it’s not at all the same thing.  

Just when you think we’re about to close out the pandemic chapter of our lives, you turn the page and alas, the saga continues.

The title of “wife” was never a high priority on my bucket list, but “mother” was one I didn’t want to miss out on.

This long into quarantine, many of us have gotten used to hitting the snooze button.

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Who am I kidding? I haven’t even set an alarm since February.

I knew raising kids was going to be expensive. The bottles, the crib, the diapers, the clothes, the care… those are known expenses that are going to add up. But when you add the caveats of “single household earner” and “woman with fertility issues,” suddenly your costs expand exponentially.

Right now, you and your family are on your own little Gilligan’s Island. It was supposed to be a three-hour tour, but thanks to COVID-19, you and your crew will be stranded for at least a few more weeks. Just like the merry castaways, you are probably feeling pretty isolated and disconnected from the rest of the world.

My infant's sleepless nights were affecting me so much that I had a fender bender. I decided it was time to sleep train and turned to the experts to get their tips. Here's what I learned.

It’s hard to be a competitive person and be subpar egg creator.  But that’s what I am. I am basically a dilapidated hen.