I wear sweatpants in public on weekdays. They’re typically tattered, ordinarily stained, and only occasionally (every three days or so) freshly laundered. But they’re always comfy and easy—paired with a t-shirt, they’re the perfect uniform for a mom. I hardly thought my attire offended anyone until recently, when a Brighton business owner called me on it. The Story Dressed in my beloved sweatpants and toting two children, I’d gone into her store in search of a birthday present. That’s imprecise. To be fair, I stumbled into her store frenetic and inarticulate after walking a half mile through …

Let’s face it; kids are gross. They’re grimy, snotty, crusty, crummy, and all modes of stinky. My infant son operates a cheese factory in his neck folds, and my nose often knows when my two-year-old son enters the room. If they weren’t absolutely charming otherwise, we’d be a troubled family. It hasn’t always been this way. I, too, used to think of children as perfectly pure, sweet-smelling joy manufacturers. I wanted to be a young mother to many, many children. We’d frolic around barefoot in a field full of shin-tickling wildflowers, bouncing rainbows off one another’s hearts. That romantic …

Whether you’ve got a sweetheart with a sweet tooth or a child with a classroom party, this simple recipe is likely to garner admiration. It’s great for the office, too. But, beware: their charm doesn’t wear off easily. Your coworkers and fellow parents will request the dish and the recipe for years to come.      A healthier substitute for chocolates and candies, these glorified Rice Krispie treats feature apples and cream cheese. In other words, you’ve got a little grain, a little fruit, and a little dairy — all that with a little sugar on top. Aside from the lovely crispy/crunchy and tangy/…

When my second pregnancy reached the 41 week mark, my sister called to say I probably wasn’t pregnant after all. I had just, you know, accidentally swallowed a basketball, she joked. It wasn’t impossible to entertain the idea. I had been expecting for so long. The anticipation had somehow dulled my mind, making reality difficult to discern. I had an easier time imagining that I had sleepwalked to the nearby high school to appease a midnight hankering for sweaty leather. When my son was born a few days after I talked with my sister, I certainly felt as if I had expelled a basketball. Not the …

When it comes to parenting, I can be an overachiever — especially when it comes to literature. Noting my continual references to books and articles about parenting, my mother actually accused me of reading too much during my first pregnancy. I can’t help myself. Access to a variety of viewpoints on any topic is virtually unlimited these days. As a parent-to-be, I thought it’d be a serious misstep to not prepare for what is arguably one of the most endlessly difficult (and rewarding) experiences of a person’s life. I actually wish I’d had the time and energy to read more. I also do all I can …

Today, I am 41 weeks pregnant. A person has been growing inside me for 287 days. The tension has peaked. The drama of pregnancy has escalated. I am, as they say, ready to pop. At this point, my son feels like a knotty hunk of wood knocking around in his small pond of amniotic fluid. He kicks my ribs, punches my hipbones, shoulder-checks my vertebrae. His movements can actually propel my body across a room. Sometimes, I’m convinced he’s going to punch through my belly button, climb out, and immediately start sassing me in the style of Stewie from Family Guy. Anxious to meet my little muscle …

Most of my friends and family members think I’m crazy. By choice, I bore my first child without an epidural and I’m hoping to do it again the second time around.   “There’s a reason they offer women drugs,” one of my sisters reasons. “Childbirth hurts!” Most of the women — and men — I’ve spoken to echo her sentiments. Some women even have planned Cesarean sections as a way to avoid as much of the birth process as possible. I’m not at all surprised, and I certainly don’t blame them. We are a culture that has a drug for just about everything. We opt to avoid discomfort at all costs. Besides, …

Whether or not you have adults-only plans after the kiddos are in bed, a family-friendly celebration during the day is a fun way to include the youngest family members in the holiday season's final round of traditions. If you plan to stay home, liven things up by hosting a New Year's Eve (NYE) party at noon. Fill champagne glasses with juice and watch a video of last year's ball drop or create a tradition of your own. If you'd rather get out of the house, here's a short list of family-friendly NYE celebrations happening in our area. Rollerama II The area's only skating rink is hosting an open…

I can't remember when I started or stopped believing in Santa. My mother, with only the slightest nod to humor, still writes “from Santa” on the Christmas gift she gives me — and, now, my husband — each year. So I imagine much effort went in to maintaining my and my sisters' belief in Santa for as long as possible. I also don't remember how I felt about Santa. Did I take comfort in his jolly demeanor? Did I fear his watchful eye? Did I actually believe that I'd receive fewer presents if I talked back to my parents or misbehaved at school? Did a belief in Santa influence my actions? Whether I …

Now that temperatures are dipping into the teens and twenties, daily walks to the Imagination Station and Mill Pond Park are almost always out of the question. But, as a work-at-home-mom to a toddler and baby due-any-day-now - I've got to get out. At the start of last year's cold season, this column featured activities to prevent cabin fever and listed three indoor kid-friendly retreats. Since then, we've added a few stops to our circuit of winter escapes. Here's a list of our top three. Hands On Educational Play At the top of our list is the Ann Arbor Hands On Museum. Housed in a remodeled …

We recently made plans to meet my brother-in-law and his family at a local U-Cut Christmas Tree farm halfway between Brighton and Ann Arbor, where they live. It ended up raining that day, so they canceled. Determined to harvest our tree sooner rather than later, we set out anyway — despite our lack of rain gear and our runny noses. Besides, we'd hyped the outing so much that our son had barely uttered more than “car... tree... cut” for two days. We had to shut him up — I mean make him happy — I mean follow through with our promises. No matter how you look at it, the truth is consistency is …

I'm not a shopper. A single visit to Target or IKEA induces a few day's worth of hot flashes, and only a true emergency can prompt me to set foot in a mall. When my husband told me he was starving last week, he wasn't exaggerating. I simply had been avoiding the grocery store for weeks. My resistance to hit up the stores increased when I became a work-at-home mom. After outings, laundry, play dates, cleaning, projects and meal prep, there's no time to worry about the latest greatest sale. But with the holidays on the horizon, I have to suck it up. Shopping is unavoidable at this time of year…

For the third year in a row, I missed the biggest bar night of the year. Instead of throwing back shots with old friends, I was downing cups of red raspberry leaf tea in preparation for the arrival of my second child. Instead of ordering up Bowie and Springsteen on the jukebox, I was swaying to lullaby versions of early Radiohead hits seeping from my son's room. Instead of indulging in a 2 a.m. Taco Bell run, I was sampling bits of the Thanksgiving feast I was in the midst of preparing for my family. Ah, domestic bliss. Right? Well, almost. To some, domesticity — especially when it involves …

I'm probably jinxing my whole family by saying so, but I have to admit I've got it easy. My 19-month old sleeps for 12 to 13 hours each night and 1 ½ to 3 hours each afternoon. Unless he's teething or ill, he rarely gives my husband and me trouble. Instead, he waves bye-bye or blows a kiss when we lay him in his crib. We're more likely to cry over his cuteness than he is over our absence. To be sure, our good fortune is more a reward than it is luck. From the start, we've put much effort into establishing a healthy sleep routine. Before his birth, we read up on infant sleep habits and sought …

I bought my 19-month-old son a doll. We call it Bruddah in anticipation of his soon-to-be-born sibling. As I write this, he's cooing softly as he attempts to diaper Bruddah. That's not true. I didn't buy my son a doll. And he's actually in the next room, a tape measure in one hand and pliers in the other, helping his father replace a door frame. A typical boy, he digs tools and all things big, loud, and mechanical. Yesterday evening, he circled the house, tapping different objects with a drum stick—an apparent investigation of cause and effect and of sound. A future famous physicist, I …

After a 2 ½ month closure that rendered downtown Brighton all but lifeless, the new and improved Imagination Station reopened on Wednesday. A grand reopening celebration is scheduled for today. Hosted by Oh My Lolli!, the festivities begin at 11 a.m. and will feature games, activities and freebies from local businesses. The event is free and open to the public. The reopening follows 2 ½ weeks of renovations overseen by Corrigan Construction. Corrigan started the project a day after Brighton City Council approved an $80,129 contract on October 6. “I'm thrilled,” Brighton resident Corrine …

My husband and I take our 18-month-old son to the park as often as we can. It's good exercise for all of us, and it's a fun way to introduce our son to social situations — or so I thought. Until recently, our visits to the park were easygoing adventures. Except for occasionally offering a piece of mulch to break the ice, Gryphon didn't interact much with other children. He mostly observed the older kids, trying to figure out how they make their legs move so fast and get their feet to leave the ground. But on a recent Saturday, my husband, son and I were at the park behind Lindbom Elementary, …

I'm so over pregnancy. Don't get me wrong. I feel fine. In fact, I feel lucky. Aside from mild insomnia and fatigue, I have none of the symptoms typically associated with pregnancy. No heartburn. No swollen ankles. No skin tags, fainting spells or gestational diabetes. Admittedly, I had my fair share of nausea during the first trimester, but I've hardly felt pregnant for the past 16 weeks, and I have a feeling the next 12 weeks will go smoothly. I certainly don't mean to brag. Instead, I'm hoping to reassure. Considering the number of pregnancy-related horror stories in circulation, I'm happy…

I adore fall — so much so that I'd proclaim my love for it from the rooftops of downtown Brighton. That display would be complete with a megaphone, disguised as a cornucopia, and golden leaves sprinkled onto the pedestrians passing below. I might even invest in singing lessons and write a few songs about cider and jack-o'-lanterns and the general joys of sweater weather. The show would be staged on Halloween, the finest of fall's details and most fun of all holidays. On second thought, I don't have time for all that. There are only a few weeks left. I've got to decide on, and pull together, …

Because it's so totally awesome, I'm convinced that I'm the only person in the area who didn't know about Spicer Orchards in Fenton until recently. I'm also convinced that Spicer Orchards should be designated the center of the universe—at least during autumn and especially for parents with young children. At the recommendation of several locals, I visited Spicer's with my husband and son last week. Fall is my favorite time of year, so I was expecting be overcome by the seasonal joys of hot apple cider, fresh doughnuts, and colorful chrysanthemums. I wasn't expecting two corn mazes, a pick-…