Joni Edelman

As the mother of three teens, I'm here to tell you: You have nothing to freak out about.

My husband and I recently traveled together without our kids for the first time . . . in a while. And it was a brand-new ball game.

"Food isn't the enemy –– calling it the enemy is the enemy."

She says she’s worried that the cat, whose name is Jack, doesn’t know what’s going on. She tried to explain to him that she was leaving for a while.

Our relationship has been a little complicated. I've loved you a lot, and I've loathed you at least that much, but mostly you've just gone unnoticed. Except for those 5 to 7 days every four weeks when you made your presence quite evident, what with the river of life blood and the random excruciating, and from what I can tell, unnecessary, contractions.

In honor of World Bipolar Day, I present a sample stream of consciousness based on my experiences living with this disorder.

Suffering is America’s favorite thing to do. We starve ourselves to lose weight, and we’re a success story. We don’t sleep, and we’re just getting SO MUCH DONE. We do a thousand things a day and involve our kids in a thousand activities, because somehow, in some perverted way, that makes us successful.

When I heard about accusations that Lena sexually abused her sister, I was astonished. And my visceral emotional reaction prompted powerful questions.

If you decide pit or leg hair isn't a big deal, then bam! It's not a big deal.

It's not always easy to find a new partner when you have kids in tow. But not only is it possible, it's worth it.