"What's she eating these days?" the pediatrician asked when I took my 4-year-old daughter Petunia to her annual checkup last month.
I rolled my eyes. "
"All of this negative press is BS," Lindsay Lohan tweeted last week. "Whenever I'm doing great, people fabricate lies. It's such a shame.
"Where's your favorite spot for happy hour?" my new neighbor asked the other day.
I blanked. Happy hour?
I'm sure there must be some
My husband's hopelessly romantic marriage proposal is easily a top-10 highlight of my life. Our short and sweet engagement, on the other hand, only ekes in at around
After a nearly five-year absence from the sport in which I completed six marathons, I very recently started running again. While the times in my previous running career were nothing
"I break Petunia's spirit several times daily," I remarked only half-jokingly to a couple of other moms at a 4-year-old's birthday party over the
Until I gave birth for the first time, I never thought much about the fact that making a child doesn’t automatically make you a parent. To be sure, it’s a cliché straight from a public service announcement, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less true: Plenty of men father children but aren’t actually d
I like to think I’m a pretty low-maintenance gift-receiver. I require nothing more than a card and a ridiculously cheap box of chocolate on Valentine’s Day (someone has to keep Hallmark and Whitman’s samplers in business).
If my birthday last week wasn’t a sound indication that I’m getting old (older?) (oldish?), then all of the talk about proms in the news lately has made me feel practically ancient.
“I love you,” I cooed playfully to my 3-year-old daughter Petunia the other day. “Do you love me?” “No,” she snapped back with a mischievous grin. “Sad Mommy?” I didn’t start weeping on the spot, probably because “Sad Mommy” is an unofficial game we play on occasion in which I mock sobbing, which in
It’s a crying shame that Democratic strategist Hilary Rosen had to go and make those inane remarks last week about how stay-at-home mom Ann Romney has never worked a day in her life.
I’m not saying I’m above buying a celebrity-endorsed product. I have no idea what Spareavtale is, but I’d eagerly acquire it by the bushelful if it meant I, too, could inexplicably wake up with a 10-carat diamond ring that my über-sexy, affectionate and adoring new husband, George Clooney, furtively
