Heather is an essayist, editor, CMO, mommy, and wife seeking stillness while in a state
of nearly constant motion. She lives, walks, and eats in the greatest city in the world: Chicago.
For every insecure, orange-tinted man whose only feeble-minded defense is name-calling female reporters, I hope my boys see how their incredible teachers model patience and grace and show up with empathy and enthusiasm every day. How they build up their students and demonstrate respectful dialogue between classmates, helping make our school a safe place for everyone, no matter which boxes they check on census data sheets.
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Navigating my own anxieties and the desire for perfection and learning to celebrate the small victories and the invaluable lessons sports bring to my children's lives.
Read MoreDive into our summer saga of family firsts where golf becomes a bonding ritual, Adam Sandler and The Three Stooges redefine comedy for my kids, and spicy challenges bring on the heat (and laughs).
Read MoreHere’s a quick summer tip: Skip Hot Girl Summer and dive into Happy Mom Summer instead. Let's swap perfection for laughter, ice cream dinners, and real joy. This year let's make being present and happy our summer trend.
Read MoreMasks are the most depressing fashion accessory of 2020. In March, when it became clear that we were all going to be wearing them for the foreseeable future, I sewed a few for my kids and me.
Read MoreI Googled what to do when a bird hits your window. Make it comfortable, the Audubon site says, leave it alone if it doesn’t seem injured. If it does seem injured, contact animal control. There is no information about what to do if a bird hits your window during a global pandemic.
Read MoreSummer as a parent is a season of extremes; both endless and fleeting.
Read MoreThe transition from an extremely competitive wanna-be athlete to a Mom on the sidelines is going to be tough for me, I just know it.
Read MoreAs my birthday approached, I thought about where I wanted to go in the next year of my life. What was I waiting for?
Read MoreWhen my boys get home from camp or our adventures in the city they are hot and tired and a little sick of each other, and of me. All they want are their screens. Left to their own devices, so to speak, they don’t talk to me, to each other, to their dad when he arrives home and says hello. They are hypnotized. I felt the irony of limiting their tablet time while I hid in the kitchen or sneaked into the bathroom to scroll through Instagram or check Facebook for the umpteenth time that day. Clearly we all have a problem. And we are not alone.
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