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November 12, 2020



I was going to be the same as I was before, but better, because I now would have children to enrich my days and nights and add colorful stories to my sales conversations.

November 12, 2020

Erasable Me


Who needs a paycheck? Who needs a flat tummy? I knew motherhood was about sacrifice, didn't I? What I hadn't counted on were the more subtle shifts, the ones that get at my center, my sense of who I am.

October 21, 2018

A Scary Holiday


Scary Halloween images are everywhere. A mom gently helps her daughter - at stores, in neighbor's yards... coping with scary things anytime and anyplace. 

February 8, 2013

“Mommy, I Need Your Intention”


What is my intention? I thought about it for days. I stood outside myself and watched my interactions with my children.

March 2, 2012

A Brief Moment


I’m not the outgoing type at all. Meeting new people and jumping right into conversations are not easy for me. But I do have one personality trait that is to my advantage—determination.

January 1, 2012

Happy New Year!


Let's turn down a notch our unending quests to try harder or be better versions of ourselves. Let's find more contentment with who we are right now and appreciate what we accomplish every day just by authentically being ourselves.

April 8, 2004

Bedtime Stories


Parenting books had forewarned me, but I still stepped right into the trap. A cranky, overtired four-year-old who always had trouble settling down to sleep, a day with too many difficult moments, and my own exhaustion set me up. To help my daughter relax one night, I ventured into dangerous territory and added an extra step to our bedtime routine.

June 16, 2003

Priority One


Tom Mayer writes about the decision to become an at-home father.

July 1, 2002

Not An Interloper


House-husband. Primary caregiver. At-home parent. Full-time dad. All these terms are descriptive, but I usually describe myself as an at-home dad.

June 1, 2001

Stealing Home


In the beginning, he was nervous and unsure -- afraid of making a mistake. The brand-new gym shorts and T-shirt bore no telltale signs of an athlete. No Gatorade stains, no frayed seams, no unmistakable “I’ve done my workout” aroma. To be honest, he just didn’t look like he belonged in the middle of a ball field, baseball glove stiff on his unpracticed hand.