I’ve been accused of being a mean mom. I’ve been accused of being a strict mom. I have been accused of treating my teen like a baby. All of these accusations have come from my teen, and mostly in response to house rules about technology or screen time. He will say that all of his friends get to do “x, y, and z” and my response always starts the same way: “Your friends’ moms don’t love them as much as I love you.” He hates that response, but always gives a defeated smile because he knows that the conversation that follows is about the reason why there are restrictions. Read More
I grew up a mixed breed among Mexican immigrants in California, and for the first ten years of my life, I thought I was one of them. My mother, a practitioner of free-love, told me and our family, that my biological father was a Mexican man, and that was the only tidbit about his identity she knew. For ten years, trips to our local Mexican restaurant, and crispy bites of tortilla chips dunked in cool tomato salsa felt like a link to half of my heritage. Read More
Most pregnant women end up in one form of maternity clothing or another at some point during their pregnancy. At least maternity pants—it’s not possible to button jeans over a uterus that just won’t quit. Read More
I love Spring. It’s my favorite time of year. The flowers are blooming, the birds are chirping, the days are longer, and the promise of a lazy summer (I can dream, can’t I?) is just around the corner.
All that sunshine and fresh air, energizes me and puts me in the mood for a good spring cleaning (and a deep exfoliation). It makes me want to feng shui my life. One closet at a time.
I start with something easy: my kids’ closets. I set up camp in each kid’s closet and with their help, or in spite of it (Mini-Me can’t let go of anything, don’t know, ahem, who she gets that from), go through their clothes and shoes. We make a huge giveaway pile, for what no longer fits or is too worn out. She’s delighted, because to her, it means time to replenish. Read More