Joni Edelman

Sam: The first time you mentioned that you have five kids I was like WHAT THE ACTUAL. FIVE HUMANS. FIVE HUMANS CAME OUT OF YOU. Like, not at the same time, but they came out and like, that sounds painful and scary WHY DID YOU DO THAT??

Welcome to #RavsWriters, an opportunity for you to get to know some of the outstanding human beings who fervently type to make Ravishly the aw

“I don’t even know what to say, Joni. Your baby isn’t alive.”

A weekly trip to Walmart would end in tears — first theirs, then mine. Them pining in the toy aisle. Me saying no. Over and over. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to buy my kids whatever they wanted, it was that I couldn’t.

My decision to bed-share with my children despite potential SIDS risks has less to do with studies, and more to do with instinct.

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

My cocktail is wrong. It’s a gin and tonic with only gin. It’s a martini with 10 olives. And I can’t stand the sun. Not today. Not this month.

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

Look, I'm not saying McDonald's did this themselves, I'm just saying, a lot of the people that work there probably agree.

Now that I've embarked upon the decade I once considered "old," there are a few things I'd like my 20 (and 30) year-old self to know.