When I have to deal with my daughter's morning routine, "pretty" goes right out the window.
Signing up for preschool is like trying to scalp tickets for a sold-out concert: It's irritating, ruthless and leaves you wondering whether it's worth the price.
Giving toddlers everything they want is a sure path to spoiled brat-dom or at worst, death. But sometimes I just can't help myself.
Meet my daughter, the reigning president of the neighborhood watch society. Her canine companion serves as vice president, dress-up partner, and general alarm sounder. The problem arises when the questions turn to me.
Victoria Rosner's husband served her with divorce papers when she was seven months pregnant, and had very little contact with his son after he was born. But after he was diagnosed with cancer, he contacted Victoria and wanted to be in his son's life.
Disclaimer: This post is only for mothers whose children are geniuses.
Deciding to go from being a television producer to a full-time SAHM gave me an identity crisis. Instead of cocktail hour and chasing down celebs, I am scrubbing green paint out of my designer jeans. Help!