A few years back, I was given the professional guidance to say "no" more. The thinking was that because I was taking too much on, I couldn't get everything accomplished. Or, in getting everything accomplished, I was burning myself out. With trepidation, and the support of my supervisors, I began to say no. While I wasn't thrilled with turning people down, I was eager to advance my career by taking on the advice of seasoned professionals. The response to my "nos" was nearly a
I used to watch TLC's show "What Not to Wear" and be perplexed by these beautiful women with ill-fitting, grossly- out-of-style clothes, raggedy hair and soft shapes. They must have never been stylish, ambitious or lived in a bustling metropolis, I so condescendingly thought. And then I became a mom. I should confess it took me years to be able to put together an outfit. I was a tomboy for most of my childhood, constantly rocking a backwards baseball hat. My sense of style w
A Letter to the Man Throwing Me Shade on the JetBlue Flight from PBI to JFK: Maybe you had a rough day. Perhaps you were fighting with your wife about checking a suitcase. Did your car get a flat tire on the way to the airport? Or is it that you have a sick parent and you are tired from arguing with doctors over his care? Do you have a pounding headache and the sound of a baby's cry is sending needles into your temples?
No matter the reason, I'm choosing to be compassionate
Soaking tubs are beautiful. No, they are sexy. They add value to a home. And, unless you are the leading lady in a romantic comedy or a real estate broker trying to make a sale, they are completely useless. They are too steeply sloped for an averaged, let alone small, person to comfortably rest her head on the lip. They are tricky to climb out of when wet. They are too deep to easily clean. And they certainly are the absolute worst place to bathe a squirming baby. A few month
I officially can't be really scared of not being a successful business woman. That isn't real fear. Real fear is hearing a coughing sound and arriving to find your tiny, 15-pound girl gagging in vomit in her crib. It's grabbing her slightly-limp body and holding her until the episode passed. Then watching it happen, helpless, several more times. Real delight isn't closing a deal. It's hearing her babble and watching her smile at your husband after you've wiped off her face. T
Maisie is in full military crawl mode, making whatever squirming motion necessary to get her to her desired destination, which is most times either my cell phone or the buckle on her car seat. She occasionally will get in to this squatting posture and then, after a few furtive glances, will propel herself forward without any fear of smacking her face onto the floor, which is nearly inevitable based on her form. A quick yelp, a reassuring pat from me, and she's back on the mov
I'm a businesswoman, journalist and mom embarking on a new adventure...