Sending out an S.O.S.

Sending out an S.O.S.

There’s nothing quite like those halcyon days with the new baby; the staying awake for hours on end, the endless crying, and — my personal favorite — the occasional complaint from a (usually childless) friend that you’ve fallen off the planet....
Iron on patches just went from hobo to hip

Iron on patches just went from hobo to hip

Maybe my children have exceptionally pointy knees (entirely possible), but I’m forever pulling holey jeans out of the laundry and setting them aside for mending. But then I remember that 1) I have no time, 2) I don’t sew. Oops.Thank goodness for the...
Anything but utilitarian

Anything but utilitarian

The name is something of a misnomer, because everything at designer Susan Fisher’s utility:home is a bright, shiny reminder that even the ordinary can look extraordinary.Their greeting cards are fabulous, of course — the patterns pop, and even the...
Get your kicks, Graffeeti-style

Get your kicks, Graffeeti-style

I used to draw on my sneakers as a child. It drove my mother crazy. Guess what my kids do with their sneakers? (I think my mom put them up to it.)With Graffeeti shoes, though, kids can color away. The special markers work together with the shoe’s surface like a...
I shall hug him, and squeeze him, and call him George

I shall hug him, and squeeze him, and call him George

The stuffed animals I painstakingly selected for my babies as to be “loveys” were never the ones they ended up dragging everywhere. When it comes to that special attachment, kids don’t care if it’s pretty or where it came from–they care...
Books for boys, beyond baseball

Books for boys, beyond baseball

When I go to teacher conferences, the thing I hear the most about my son– always said with great reverence– is, Wow, he sure likes to read! I come from an entire family of readers, so this doesn’t seem odd to me… but it is odd, because boys...
Ouchies: Turning owies into art

Ouchies: Turning owies into art

They say hell hath no fury like a child denied a Band-Aid, but that’s only because they’ve not seen one of my kids offered the wrong Band-Aid (which is even worse). Heaven forbid I have nothing left but butterflies when my son has an invisible...
Sleep training. Oh, blessed sleep training.

Sleep training. Oh, blessed sleep training.

What I remember most about the early days was that the money I spent on batteries for the swing could have easily funded a semester in private college. Because my baby didn’t sleep unless he was in motion. For months. Know what I needed? Someone who knew how to...