Heather is an essayist, editor, CMO, mommy, and wife seeking stillness while in a state
of nearly constant motion. She lives, walks, and eats in the greatest city in the world: Chicago.
I Googled what to do when a bird hits your window. Make it comfortable, the Audubon site says, leave it alone if it doesn’t seem injured. If it does seem injured, contact animal control. There is no information about what to do if a bird hits your window during a global pandemic.
Read MoreI started writing this essay with the intention of providing advice for my sons as they grew into men. Some tips were specific (Change your socks every day); some general (Learn to be OK with failure), and some were based on my own life experience (Don't get married until you're 30). But as I observed my sons with a journalistic eye, I realized how much they can teach us all.
Read Morelove Christmas, every part. Cookies and food and seasonal music, yes, please. I make menus and gift lists, and I obsess about all the details. The kids and I count down to Santa’s visit, and the Elf on the Shelf (his name is Bubbles) is in full effect every night.
This essay should be right up my tinsel-laden alley.
But not this year.
Read MoreI have always had my doubts about people who don’t like to eat. Is my son one of those people? Someone who eats the same, monotonous thing every day, for his whole life and doesn’t think twice about it? Who never takes risks, never tries anything new, ever? Someone who eats McDonald’s in France?
Read MoreFriday nights have long been associated with good times: Happy Hours, date nights, movie premieres. Through the years I’ve looked forward to events like those, but lately, my Fridays are more about popcorn and pajamas than pomp and circumstance.
In our home, Friday nights are reserved for movies with my boys, and it’s my favorite thing.
Read MoreAt one point in my life, I used my maiden name as my middle name, and my husband’s last name as my own, but then my middle name disappeared. I remember seeing my ‘new’ name on some official document and I found it disorienting and unfamiliar.
Where was my name? Who was this? Where had I gone?
Read MoreSummer as a parent is a season of extremes; both endless and fleeting.
Read MoreIn my life I have been lucky to have the opportunity to travel around the world and across the country, but in my heart, none of them will ever come close to the vacations my family took when I was growing up.
Read MoreBabies are not good at communication. Beyond malodorous clues, the new little person that I was suddenly responsible for was really terrible at telling me how things were going. For those of us who thrive on positive reinforcement, this was frustrating.
Read MoreMy poofy hair was what I had to deal with and although my brother tortured me by calling me Hair Bear for years, I managed to get through that time with as much awkward grace as I could. And a whole lot of mousse.
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