Why My Life Is Better (AND WORSE) Than It Looks On Facebook

My life looks pretty good on Facebook. Handsome husband. Happy kids. Joyful moments. Good Cropping. That’s why this week’s video from confidence coach Catia Holm reverberated. “Is your life as good as it appears on Facebook?” I thought about it. I only post videos and pictures I want to remember—the shiny stuff between tantrums and…

Love in the Face of Latest Mass Shooting

It’s not glamorous or especially swift but we all hold the power to love our families more and to accept each other and our children more fully.

Cheers to All the “Bad Moms”

I’m officially a bad mom. I agreed to let my son steer the jumbo-sized, three-seated, boat of a cart at Target, yesterday. It’s so big he can’t see over the front. I guided the basket cheerfully until I realized Brandon had abandoned the helm. I backtracked saying his name as loud as I felt comfortable…

Our Kids Are Counting On Us

I’m pretty accustomed to pouty lips and frowny faces. I have a two-year-old. I’m not accustomed to witnessing a candidate, running for the highest office in our great country, exhibit such childish behavior. I won’t degrade my toddler any further. Donald Trump represents everything I’m trying to teach my son and daughter not to be….

Build Your Best Life Through Vulnerability

I’ve put my career above all else. I’ve also stood in the kitchen unable to see my bare feet beyond a pregnant belly. I’m the same woman. The power suit still fits—I simply started making different choices. Those choices, as cold as bricks, continue to build the life I love. There’s inherent vulnerability in choice. Too…

Great Confrontations

I thought the days of getting kicked out of just about anywhere ended when I left TV news. Tracking down some funeral home owner accused of mismanaging funds, or some district attorney charged with taking bribes is no longer part of the routine (not that I ever liked confrontation). My new routine involves play dates,…

The Phrase I’m Banishing From Our Home

My toddler slides a guitar strap around his neck. His fubsy fingers strum a choppy tune as I smile from the couch. Maybe he’ll become a musician and escort his dear old mom to the Grammys. “Bradley Cooper took his to the Oscars,” I’ll joke. A funny face can trigger an equally audacious thought about…

Why I’m Not Ready For Mom’s Night Out

I stepped into the Magic Time Machine without a diaper bag. A woman dressed as Disney’s Jasmine handed me a menu. Teal harem paints framed a tonned porcelain tummy. She must not have kids, I thought. Marks formed over two pregnancies now wind around my belly like a mountainside eroded by rain. My middrift wasn’t…

Pride, Ego and the Plastic Pineapple

I sat on a park bench, one sweet Saturday afternoon, swapping humble boasts— bonding over motherhood. The woman next to me cooed at my baby and praised my toddler’s fearlessness on the slide. My pride beamed like October sunshine until my son shoved a little girl to the ground. The little girl’s mom shouted “No!…