Motherhood Mondays

In my forties, I'm still figuring it out.

My friend Ziva texted me yesterday with the cutest question...

I wish I could tell my younger self.

“Do you believe in God?” my six-year-old daughter asked in the middle of dinner.

I was eight years old when I started asking questions about my dad.

"WHY DOES EVERYONE HAVE TO BE SOOOOOOOOOOOO DRAMATIC???!!!!!!"

When my kids are asleep, this is the first thing I do.

"I realized I was running out of kitchen door against which to measure my teenage son’s height."