My mom saves everything.  On a recent trip to her house I encountered all of my old clay art projects; a lopsided coffee mug, a candle-holder and a turtle ashtray.  I had to laugh at the turtle ashtray - thinking how totally un-PC it would be to make something like that nowadays. I was in elementary school when I made it for my parents, sometime in the mid to late 1980s. And I have to tell you, no one batted an eye when I made it. My mom was a smoker, so I thought it was a great idea. I even included grooves to hold the cigarettes. I was not alone in making an ashtray, other people in my …

If you do a Google search for 'eyebrow + Rogaine' you get 362,000 results.   I have less than 24 hours to regrow an eyebrow after an overzealous stylist going after a stray hair waxed off half of my eyebrow. I'm attending a family wedding Saturday and wanted to look nice. Instead, I look punk rock. "It's hardly noticeable," my husband said to me. I forgive him this little lie because it comes from a place of caring. But, it's hard not to notice. I'm missing half an eyebrow. Oh, and the red welts don't help either. I write this not to bad mouth the establishment but to urge others to listen to…

Ever heard of the animated movie All Dogs Go to Heaven? Well, whatever you do don't tell your child that's where dogs go, at least according to the director of my son's daycare Mr. Z. An amazingly caring man for the record. Last week, when our family dog Laika died my husband and I went to pieces, and we didn't know how to tell our two-and-a-half-year-old that Laika had died. He knew she had a boo-boo in her tummy because she was sick before she passed. My instinct was to tell him Laika had joined the circus. I thought he'd understand why she left us for such a better place. My husband was of…

Several weeks ago I confessed my secret fast food life, and my son's excursions to McDonald's with me. My husband is not a fan of fast food, so always the problem solver, he came up with the idea to make our son healthier, homemade chicken nuggets. Well, it failed. Not because the nuggets weren't yummy, they were. But there's no fooling our 2-year-old. He knew immediately they weren't the authentic "now made with all white meat kind." So, my husband and I ate the nuggets, which were good. I'm actually considering next time, putting the homemade nuggets in an old Happy Meal box and presenting …

I love McDonald's. My husband, not so much.  So when my husband is out of town my son and I can often be found in the drive-thru of the McDonald's on Olive Blvd. I try to be good, getting him apples and milk with his nugget happy meal.  Recently, when we picked daddy up at the airport, my son did the unthinkable. He spilled the beans on our little excursions. "Chicken McNuggets" he kept saying loudly from the back seat. My husband was trying to decipher what our two-year-old was saying. I was trying to prompt our toddler away from the Golden Arch's conversation. But finally my husband got it…

My son pooped in his potty. Cue the fireworks. To borrow a phrase from Vice President Joe Biden, "This is a big (expletive) deal." But what comes next? More pooping in his potty? The big boy toilet?  Essentially, I want to know when can I toss out his diapers. My son turned two in October, and we've slowly been getting him acquainted with the toilet. But it's a slippery slope. Not too much pressure though, because then he'll be scarred for life or something like that and never get out of diapers. This isn't the first time he's pooped in the potty. It's just the first time he's done it for me…

I need a wife. Preferably a stay-at-home wife who can do the laundry, clean the house and have dinner on the table. I know it’s sexist, but I’m being honest. My laundry is piled high in my hallway. Dishes sit in my dishwasher and I desperately need to pick up kitty litter at the store. I’ll eventually get around to it. But I’m just not that motivated. There, I admit it. I’m just not that into it.  I would love a clean house, but I’m OK with the clutter. I'm eyeing 40, so there really is no excuse for this college behavior. When am I finally going to grow up? I still do the sniff test with my …

Have I ever bought something and hidden it from my husband? Eh, yeah. That's what closets are for. And apparently I'm not alone at shopping and stashing. A study by Marketplace Money finds that 80% of married people in America have purposefully hidden purchases from their husband or wife. According to the study, many couples see these omissions as (mostly) little white lies, done so to avoid an argument or an eye roll.  Sometimes it's hard to explain to my husband that I need the 1.5 ounce $230.00 bottle of cream my dermatologist recommended to help with my pigmentation and fine lines.  Or, …

"Not my house, not my house," my son screams every time I bring him home to our new house in University City. "Papa's house, Papa's house" he yells. Essentially, my 2-year-old son wants to live with his grandparents. And really why wouldn't he. They live out in the country with plenty of green space a great sledding hill and a swing set for him. Not to mention the fact they dote on him. I'm trying not to take it personally. But it's embarrassing every time we get home and he screams that he doesn't live here. I'm sure our new neighbors must think I'm kidnapping a child. I've been handling …

Editor's Note: I wrote this last December and am re-posting it today. I thought it might resonate with other parents.   Labor costs must be hitting the North Pole. Wow, did I got major sticker shock when I took my son to get his picture taken with Santa over the weekend at the mall in Alton, Illinois. The cheapest package was $20.00. My eyes glazed over at $45.00. I'm not stuck in the late 1970s thinking 2 bucks will get you into a movie, but the Santa inflation came as a shock. I was expecting to shell out $10.00 maybe $15.00. Or at the most $20.00 But, after all that, it appeared it wasn't …

Sunday morning was a teachable mommy moment.  I hate those. They make me feel terrible. My son got into my multivitamins, so off we went  to the emergency room. "I did it," said Alex, my 2-year-old, sounding so proud as he stood amongst the pills on the floor of our bedroom. Did you take some pills I asked. Silence from Alex. He had spit-up on his t-shirt so all the evidence pointed toward the possibility he had popped one or more into his mouth.  Saturday night, I had taken my vitamin and put the bottle on my bed-stand.  Had I tightened the lid? I think. I'm sure I did. But I couldn't really…

My husband says it's his family tradition. I think he's being a cheapskate. We wait until Christmas Eve to buy our Christmas tree.  Why? He says it's because both of his parents worked and that was the only time they had to get a tree. There's also another reason which he refers to as "just one of the bonuses." That's because Christmas Eve is when the trees go on sale.  So, instead of shelling out $60.00 for a Fraser Fir, we get it for $30.00. And my husband is ecstatic at his cost-savings. But by the time Christmas Eve comes the trees are looking haggard,with pine needles hanging on for dear…

"You're not addicted to them. Your body is," said my doctor. That's when I found out I was a drug addict. OK. I'm making it sound too dramatic. Restated: I'd become an accidental addict, hooked on medication she prescribed to treat my postpartum depression. She explained that the sweating, leg cramps, nausea and overall freaking out were signs of withdrawal when I would forget to take my meds. It got me thinking: My son is now two years old,  so when will I finally reach post-postpartum? It takes a month to wean off just one pill. And I've got one pill prescription left.  Don't get me wrong. …