Around the House

Heart-Felt Art

I’ve always believed there’s something special about a child’s name. While my daughter’s name is not "a family name" but rather just one we both agreed on (which was a feat in and of itself), it still feels as if it were meant for her, both in its sound, meaning, and intent.

Girlie Art

While we tend to gravitate towards monsters and robots more than princesses and ballerinas in our household, there’s something entirely capitvating about the little girl art of Colorado artist and mom Carla Sonheim.

Keeping a High Profile

I’m always thrilled to bits to get personal, handwritten notes. But I can’t help but snicker when I get a thank you note supposedly written in first-person by a newborn. Are the new parents already outsourcing their chores to these (clearly gifted) children? Call me a skeptic, but I’m pretty sure I can recognize adult handwriting.

No, Bless YOU, Lotta

Ever since having a kid, I find we’re going through four times the tissues. Maybe it’s because someone’s always got a cold. Maybe because someone’s always spilling something. Or maybe it’s because my cat is acting out in really disgusting ways. (Sorry, carpet.)

Skip*Hop Goes Domestic

My kitchen is overflowing with useful but highly unattractive items designed to clean, sanitize, and organize baby feeding paraphernalia. I’m sure visitors wonder what kind of illicit chemistry lab we’re running with all the clinical looking gizmos and gadgets covering every inch of counter space. Fortunately, our friends at Skip*Hop – yes, makers of those great diaper bags – have brought harmony back to the kitchen.

Less is More

I was one of those naive moms-to-be who swore up and down that my tasteful adult abode would never become plastic toy central. "The baby stuff will stay in the baby’s room," I insisted. Ha.

Brag Smaller

I’m not a brag book kind of gal. It’s not that I don’t love showing off pics of my daughter–just ask anyone who’s ever come within six inches of me over the past year–it’s that I don’t need yet one more big thing to weigh down my already overloaded bag.

Off The Pages and Onto Your Wall

If you’re anything like me, you love looking at children’s books as much as your kids do. Okay, so maybe not the one I have to read fifteen times a day. But I do fantasize about some of the illustrators coming over to my house and jazzing up my daughter’s room.

M is for Mandelbrot Fractal Set

There is no law that says that A has to be for Apple and B has to be for Banana. Especially if you’re one of those edumacated households with perhaps a mathematician or a chemical engineer at the dinner table.

Seeing Read

When a recent trip left me pondering The Complete Works of Shakespeare versus How to Fix The Kitchen Sink as potential beach reads, I realized I had a problem. The shelves in my home library are overflowing with nonfiction and kids’ books, but the fictional reading selections are positively uninspiring.

All Creatures Great On Wall

I have a confession: I’m a complete and total insect-loving mama. I was raised to appreciate the little buggers with wall-to-wall ant farms in my childhood bedroom and fish tanks full of snails in the backyard.

Just Don’t Call it Scrapbooking

I cannot tell you exactly why I still have my Junior Prom corsage stuffed away in a shoebox between old report cards and notes my best friend passed me in French class, but I do. I mean, I didn’t even like the guy and he cheaped out on the champagne. But throwing away the things feels too much like throwing away the memories. Which also explains why I’m already on shoebox number three for my year-old daughter.