I can still see her hands scattering flour in a circular motion to form a “well” on the kitchen counter. I see her add water, olive oil and yeast to the hollow center, then throw in a pinch of salt before whisking the ingredients together with a fork. I see her reach for some more flour, which she sprinkles all over the big, sticky mess. Then she begins to knead. She applies powerful motions with her soft yet strong hands, rolling the dough away from her, then pulling it back, taking one side of the mound, then stretching it and folding it over the other. She does this with the other side, and repeats these motions over and over until the dough starts to take the shape of a ball.

That’s the vivid image I still have of my mother making pizza dough so many years ago. She had no recipe books, yet she knew exactly how much of each ingredient was needed and had a natural confidence that everything would turn out delicious. She had learned to make pizza by watching her older sisters. She didn’t learn from her mother, whom she lost when she was only 2. And I lost her when I was 13.

Yes, I’m a motherless daughter. And now that I’m the proud parent of two teenage boys here in Northern Italy, there are certain aspects of motherhood that I am winging. I am a motherless mother. … //READ MORE

I am not a Disney person, but I finally caved and let my 3-year-old daughters watch Frozen. Rose intuitively grasped the deeper message of the film: “Wow, Elsa sure has super strong feelings that makes a lot of things frozened!” Later that night when I tucked her in, she told me, “Your love is sparkly everywhere like Elsa’s magic.” I thanked her and said, “That’s the thing about strong feelings—sometimes they’re so beautiful, and other times, they can be kind of rough.”

Rosie contemplated that for a minute. “You have strong feelings when you drive,” she said.

“I do,” I told her. “I’m working on it.”

“I’ll help you, mommy. I’ll remind you.”

“Thanks, baby,” I say and kiss her goodnight.

It’s true—my road rage is out of control. Though I’d like to think most people would describe me as sunny, when I drive I confront a deep well-spring of rage. … //READ MORE

We all know the stats about kids and musical instruments: Those who learn to play at a young age perform better in school, score higher in math and English tests, and may even be more successful in life than their non-musical peers. Those are some pretty powerful motivators to get your little one started on a violin or piano—pronto. … //READ MORE

Remember the Reginald Rose play Twelve Angry Men? Well, I’ve decided to write a new stage production called Twelve Spastic Kindergartners. It’s not about a murder-trial jury, but rather a roster of kids at a birthday party. A party during which the guests and 6-year-old host cause mayhem in a new house, the birthday boy gets away with murder, and somehow the parents are sentenced to three hours of floor scrubbing and permanent ringing in their ears. It’s full of more drama and intrigue than the original production, with the added action of dinosaur-mauling and kung-fu fighting. … //READ MORE

My son Tobin was 6 when I decided to start a nonprofit empowerment retreat for foster youth. Being a mother had sparked in me a deep desire to speak up for kids stuck in the foster care system who couldn’t be with their mothers or families due to circumstances out of their control. The more I researched and the more I learned, I knew I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. I had to act.

But I was worried that my dream was going to take too much time away from Tobin. As both a mother and an entrepreneur, I found myself constantly being pulled in two directions. “How could I do both and do them well?” I asked myself. Could I take care of myself, be an amazing mother and start a nonprofit all at the same time?” … //READ MORE