Signed by the Artist
Amidst the whirlwind of motherhood, I found a forgotten stack of my children's artwork, each piece a cherished reminder of stages passed. It's a journey through memories, both heartwarming and bittersweet.
Read MoreHeather 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.
Amidst the whirlwind of motherhood, I found a forgotten stack of my children's artwork, each piece a cherished reminder of stages passed. It's a journey through memories, both heartwarming and bittersweet.
Read MoreMasks are the most depressing fashion accessory of 2020. In March, when it became clear that we were all going to be wearing them for the foreseeable future, I sewed a few for my kids and me.
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 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 MoreI know the non-believers in the second grade have begun to whisper their doubts. Like a virus it spreads, making kids question fundamental symbols of the season.
But I want my sons to believe.
Read MoreGetting rid of your stuff is supposed to make you happier. Except when it doesn’t.
Read MoreWhen my boys get home from camp or our adventures in the city they are hot and tired and a little sick of each other, and of me. All they want are their screens. Left to their own devices, so to speak, they don’t talk to me, to each other, to their dad when he arrives home and says hello. They are hypnotized. I felt the irony of limiting their tablet time while I hid in the kitchen or sneaked into the bathroom to scroll through Instagram or check Facebook for the umpteenth time that day. Clearly we all have a problem. And we are not alone.
Read MoreThere are some trips in life that you just can’t prepare for.
Read MoreBefore I loved to run, I really hated it.
Read MoreIf clothes make the man, then I live with a rainbow dragon and a superhero ninja who are in firm opposition to the premise that socks come in matching pairs. I’m not sure what sort of men I’m raising, but they certainly are colorful.
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