There it was – “Angela” written on the front of the peanut butter jar. When I asked my six year old why she did it, she stopped what she was doing and said simply, “I wanted everyone to know I was going to eat peanut butter.” ...
Read MoreI’m one of those mothers whose heart gets clogged with mushy emotion, not just on Mother’s Day, but every day. If you’ve read any of my pieces here or in other publication, you may notice that my specialty is raw emotion, some...
Read MoreOnce upon a time there was a boy named David. His dad was a golf professional, and his family lived on the fifth hole of a modest golf course. Every day David spent hours hitting golf balls, tee to green, over and over again,...
Read MoreWe mothers can be so efficient. We can do laundry, clean a dirty kitchen, and calm sibling spats in between spooning Gerber’s best into our babies’ mouths. Once, just for fun, I wrote down everything I did during a one-hour...
Read MoreDavid was 17 years old the summer he started working in the plastics factory, which was owned by his uncle. He took this job in between his junior and senior years of high school hoping to maximize earnings for college, which...
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