To all the baseball moms who spend hours scrubbing red clay out of socks, pants, and jerseys… it’s worth it.
If this sound familiar it’s because it’s a repost from 2011…rewritten for publication in Midtown Patch I can’t speak for parents in other places, but parents in Atlanta go berserk during private school admissions season. Okay, so I confess I got a little swept up in the whole frenzied madness too. Who wouldn’t with so … Read more
In a few days, my oldest son will turn 20 years old. Surely I am not old enough to have a 20 year old son…or perhaps I am. These days, I barely can recall where I last set down my reading glasses or car keys. How then, is it possible that my memory of Christian … Read more
When my son Jared was a tyke, he’d wake up early on Saturday mornings, sprint the length of the upstairs hallway and burst through the master bedroom doors. He’d leap into bed and jockey his way into position right smack in the middle of the bed, between me and my husband, Pat. Most of the … Read more