The other day, as I was watching my 4-year-old play at the park, clothed in pants heavily stained at the knees and a shirt that did not match, I wondered to myself for the first time in my life….”why did this use to bother me so much?” What inside me made me care so deeply about what fabric they decided to yank over their bodies for the day. It’s just clothing.” As I pondered this question for a few moments, I came across the answer in my subconscious. It popped up in my mind and once I saw it, I knew it was true.

I used to care so much about what my kids wore because, back then, I saw them as an extension of me. I didn’t want my kids to leave the house looking like a hot mess because I felt like it reflected on me. If my kids looked unkept or homeless, then people would think I was unkept or homeless. Subconsciously I used to see my kids as a reflection of who I was and what people thought of me used to matter. I sought out approval, inclusion, and admiration. I wanted to be liked. I wanted to be seen as successful and put together.

Kristina shares a rare and unexpected moment of deep connection with her youngest daughter, Marina. Typically an independent and no-nonsense toddler, Marina surprises her mother with an unprompted, lingering hug. A hug that seems to quiet the invisible stresses of adulthood. As Kristina holds her, she wonders if their silent exchange is something deeper, a telepathic or empathic connection that transcends words. This moment is made even more meaningful by the fact that Marina, unlike her older siblings, did not nurse for long, leaving Kristina with lingering doubts about their bond. But in this quiet, unwavering embrace, those doubts fade, replaced with a certainty that their connection is unshakable.

I have a complicated relationship with Scholastic Book Fairs. It was a nostalgic childhood event that used to highlight my family’s financial struggles. Now as a parent, I find satisfaction in giving my kids the experience I never had: the freedom to browse, shop, and actually take home something. But with that privilege comes the ever-present concern of raising children who are too comfortable, too unaware of their own fortune. Balancing generosity with teaching gratitude is a constant struggle, and parenting is always about walking that fine line.

Exploring the unexpected challenges of embracing school choice after moving from Pittsburgh to Florida. I was prepared for differences in education quality and facilities, but wasn’t expecting the loss of that deep-rooted school spirit and community legacy.

In Florida, where families have options and kids bounce between schools, my daughters now rally for different teams—Scarlett in green and gold and Gianna in blue and white. This split leaves me feeling torn and nostalgic for the strong, singular school pride of the past.

My 13-year-old is addicted to green grapes. While the rest of her age bracket is vaping and having sex, my daughter Scarlett is happy OD’ing on nature’s candy. I am deeply grateful for this. Or should I say “grapeful”. Bwahahahaha.

I’ve haven’t written much lately. Been distracted I guess by other things. Minor to-do’s. Finding ways to save a little moola (cut out some subscriptions I really didn’t need and lowered my homeowner’s insurance by $1,000…. boo-yah)! Analyzed my stock portfolio and consolidated our investments. Began preparing our taxes and Gianna’s birthday book. I’ve worked on side projects for Vince’s door insert business. Made this snazzy catalog to showcase all the insert options to help customers choose what they want.

Hard adulting stuff over here. But writing has just taken a back seat for a while.