Why are there 50 types of baby wipes? Aren’t they all basically the same? In my constant sleep-deprived state, I look at a wall of types of baby wipes and have to contemplate my entire parenting philosophy right there in Target. “Well, I like the ones in the pretty package, but I’m not spending 50 Read More

I love toys, don’t you? For Christmas, we bought our child a $20 set of kid-sized cleaning tools. You know, a little broom, a mop, a duster, all his own size, what fun! Do you know who hates toys? Children. Especially if they are within the age range that the toys are intended for. Those Read More

I got my first hate-comment to the blog, and I was so shocked that someone other than my mom is actually reading the blog! For the first time, my writing actually angered a stranger enough that he responded with a lengthy point-by-point tear-down of my article. I’m surprised he would take the time. I mean, Read More

Some people accidentally catch their dog or babysitter doing something funny on their home surveillance cameras; I’m glad we don’t have cameras in our basement to catch me as I stumble around at night breastfeeding an infant, pumping, oh and going to battle against spiders while I’m half dressed, half awake and not wearing my glasses, so maybe it’s not a spider at all but some carpet fuzz. No, if I’m alone, it’s always a spider.

There’s a silent life-giving force on the loose in our public streets, playgrounds, and Costco stores that few people are talking about, but truly needs to be addressed. Extremely pregnant women are going out in public when they could “pop” at any moment. We’ve all seen them, women in their 8th or even 9th month of pregnancy, casually waddling through a Target store stocking up on diapers, knowing they could blow any second. I for one, think they should be stopped, and soon. Can you count the times you’ve seen a woman just give birth in your local grocery store? The same place you buy your family’s food. I stopped counting after I ran out of fingers.

We’ve all heard of dryers eating socks, which obviously really happens, but there is an even crazier phenomenon that affects toddler shoes. They don’t just get lost, they actually disappear. They enter a different dimension and you have to go through a series of steps to get them to reappear in ours. It’s your basic Science Fiction stuff, which I don’t have time to explain to you, but just re-watch those last two Harry Potter movies and it explains it all in there.

It’s November, the holidays are in full swing, and parents of young children know what that means: family traditions, spending quality time together, and most importantly, pictures to prove it really happened. As parents, we try our best to create loving memories that our children can cherish for a lifetime. But we all know special moments are basically worthless if we don’t document them.

When you see a mom at the park crawl up into the play structure behind her child, do you roll your eyes or smirk to your friend thinking, “I would never do that with my kid”? Helicopter parents have a really bad reputation, but guess what? I’m here to admit to you, I am a helicopter parent, and some of my friends are too. And I love it. Here’s why:

Before becoming a mother, I always thought of guilt very simply as a yes or no scenario:
Do I feel guilty for eating that third donut? Yes. Therefore, next time Dana brings donuts to work, I will only eat a half, err, one full serving size (which I believe is two donuts). Then I won’t feel guilty. Simple.

But only a mother can feel guilty for something whether she does it or not.

I love the holidays. They really help get your priorities straight. Like how it’s important to take time away from work to spend with your family. And how no matter how much I love my family, I do not love them enough to go to Costco on the weekend before Thanksgiving or Christmas. “Sorry, sweetie, we don’t have a ham this year. Who’s up for Christmas day grilled cheese? I’ll draw a Santa on it with ketchup. Wait, hold on, I better see if we have ketchup before I promise that…”