Now that we’re well into the new year, I’m well into writing in the paper calendar that I’ll be using until next January. Yes, you read that right—a paper calendar. Yes, I have a smartphone and yes, I know how to use the digital calendar that comes with it. In fact, I’m well versed in technology, thank you very much.

But everyone has their holiday traditions. And for me, every December, it’s purchasing a new wall calendar and, after the new year arrives, updating it month by month. I love getting my new calendar, peeling off its cellophane wrapper and pulling out the square piece of cardboard in the middle. It’s a personal process that takes place on my kitchen table. … //READ MORE

On the morning of December 14, 2012, artist and mother Scarlett Lewis got news of a school shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, CT. Her 6-year-old son Jesse and 19 other children died that day along with seven adults, including gunman Adam Lanza. Eyewitnesses say Jesse saved the lives of nine of his classmates telling them to “run now” when Lanza paused to load more ammunition. Jesse also left a personal message of hope for his mother and the world. Just days prior to the tragedy, Jesse wrote three words on his chalkboard at home: “Nurturing. Healing. Love.” … //READ MORE

I got my first and only tattoo when I was 32. I don’t know what triggered the desire, but suddenly I just knew I had to have one.

I was a busy mother of two small children, and I was working full time. Amidst all my family and work responsibilities, I realized that I needed to do something that was just for me. For my tattoo, I chose the astrological symbol for Pisces, which is my horoscope and rings true for my “fishy,” artistic, emotional, fluid/water nature. So that fateful night, for whatever reason, I dragged my already much-tattooed friend to the Electric Rose tattoo parlor and got my “sign” tattooed just above my panty line (the notorious “tramp stamp” location—sexist labeling, whatever). The procedure hurt, but I was proud of my new tattoo and didn’t really care what anyone thought. … //READ MORE

I clearly remember the night I went into labor with my first child. It was around 6 p.m. on July 6, 1991—my 5th wedding anniversary. The pains started slowly at first, leaving time to celebrate with Thai food (that did not stay with me long) and for my husband to vacuum the house (last minute nesting?). Hours later I found out my doctor was on vacation and hours after that a nurse told me the umbilical cord might be wrapped around my baby’s neck hence the long labor. It was not an ideal birth.

Then at 11:18 a.m., after a suction marathon by a fill-in doc with very strong Popeye-like arms, I heard the infant cry and that fateful announcement, “It’s a girl!” … //READ MORE