February 17, 2023. In case you missed it, the assignment was to write a beautiful truth about your child every day from February 1-14. Then, either gradually or all at once, post these truths on your child’s door or mirror.

February 10, 2023. I had a fist fight with my 7-year-old niece last month. We were physically fighting for control of a bottle of melatonin gummies, both our fists clamped tightly around the supplements.

She wanted to gulp down a second gummy, and I was holding a hard limit.

But my limit was a little too hard. As I impatiently twisted the bottle from her surprisingly strong fingers, I felt my nail slice across her palm.

February 3, 2023. "My husband screwed up. He showed me how little he actually knows me."

At least that’s how I could tell the story if I let my negativity bias do the narrating. Mr. Van Geffen’s crime was to bring me home this colossal flower arrangement for my birthday.

January 13, 2023. Despite the warning from my prior psychiatrist to keep my condition a secret (or risk discrimination), I tell anyone who asks that I have ADHD.

January 6, 2023. What is this generation’s obsession with forcing you onto a video call while they unpack or take their make-up off? Everyone else can hear your entire chat and it’s not the most connecting experience, since you can plainly see that they are otherwise engaged. Needless to say, the conversations were not epic except for the moment she leaned into the camera and whispered, “I’m so glad you are my mother.”

December 31, 2022. With all the extra together time, the teens have been rolling their eyes and telling me to “chill” like it’s their j-o-b.