Tuesday, April 28, 2015 Iyyar 9, 5775

For as long as he's been alive, I have carried my youngest son, who is now 8, up the stairs to bed. But one of these nights, I'm going to have to say goodbye to this ritual.

I'm hoping my 8-year-old's fascination with this computer game — and videos of adults playing it — will be just a phase.

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Doing my sons' laundry has become something of a meditation as I sort through the clothes that reflect their choices and personalities.

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My husband and I made a pact to try a 30-day diet that I hoped would purify my body. Instead, I ended up feeling umbilically connected to my kitchen, spending so much energy chopping vegetables that I didn't have much left for the kids. 

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Musings of a Modern Balabusta
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