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Don’t judge me, momma — ‘self care’ means different things to different people

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I most certainly don't need anyone to remind me that I should make an appointment with my stylist. Because frankly, I don't have a stylist. I have color-in-a-box, courtesy of the discount store and the 26 minutes I give myself to scrub the entire bathroom while the color sets.

Could the ‘love challenge’ make your holidays happier?

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Who hasn't seen some new challenge appear on a social media platform nearly every week? I'm proposing a new one — the 'love challenge". I challenge you to put a little love in your heart this Christmas season. And who knows? It may go viral!

It’s a dog’s life…and a cat’s life…and more at our house

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Can't get enough of those furry friends? You have a million things to get done but spend your time looking at the dog memes on every one of your too-many social media accounts?

Holiday survival guide: tactics for handling travel, food and family

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Laurie's secrets to a happy holiday with extended family: Hit the road before dawn and stay away from soul-sucking idiots — even if it means hiding in the bathroom. And your diet? Fuhgeddaboudit.

Glorious, perfect solitude: Dream on

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Have you turned into a person who makes plans with people and then secretly hopes they will cancel?

The Mars-Venus thing explains a lot, but —

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Life works best when you find the yin to your yang. I will never, ever, understand the heap of dirty laundry on the floor next to his side of the bed, but I have developed the ability to walk past it and/or kick it under the bed without thinking murderous thoughts. It's all about balance.

Love at first sight: confessions of a brand-new ‘glam-mom’

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I’ve been recently inducted into the “Gram-Mom” club. I have entered this hallowed group at an advanced age — well not that advanced, but...

My Zen of aging, interrupted

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I try to believe that each sunset has followed a day where I have learned something new, that each season waxes and wanes as I search for a deeper happiness, that each revolution around the sun has made me a better person. But then my husband hobbles all over my Zen with an arthritic toe.

The real reason (some) moms don’t wear makeup might surprise you

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I am no artist and I think any makeup that I try to apply would end up making me look much less like a hot mom and much more like I was auditioning for clown school. And I don't ever want anyone to call me Krusty — for any reason.

What — me worry? (No one said this was rational)

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So what exactly happens to us when we have kids? What part of our brain turns away from our own selves and our wants and needs, only to embrace all the crazy of motherhood?