In the darkness of Room 318, my husband’s gravely snore could be heard over the rattle of the air conditioner. Normally unable to sleep with any kind of racket, I was out like the proverbial light, my mouth agape from the utter exhaustion that comes with moving. Middle-age didn’t help either. Our son, draped over…
modern culture
The Art of Trash Collecting
Every summer, the beaches of this nation are scattered with people who wander slowly, look quite seriously down at their feet, and bend over frequently. Despite appearances, they are actually not contemplating the prognoses of their bunions, admiring their arches, or watching their toenails grow. For some reason, these people are compelled to search the…
Indispensable Me
“Mom! Can you help me?!” I hear that phrase throughout the day, invariably bellowed from some other room in the house while I’m trying to cook, clean, answer emails, put away groceries, fold laundry, take a shower, write my column, or watch a DVRed episode of The Bachelorette while savoring an afternoon cup of microwaved…
Attack of the Killer Teens
This week, my youngest child turned thirteen, making me the mother of three teenagers. For those readers who have raised (i.e., survived) teenagers, I could end my column here. There’s no need for lengthy anecdotes. Upon reading my first sentence, other parents of teens most likely heaved a collective groan, and instantly understood the prickly…
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