Joni Edelman

...I’m going to help you! By “help” I mean “tell you all the things that didn’t work.”

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.

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.

Here’s something that isn’t rocket science either, Stephen Hawking: Diets don’t work.

I just listened to my four and six year-old children (one boy, one girl) have a lengthy bathtime conversation about babies, growing up, m

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

When you push a small human out of your body, things tend to get a little weird.

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.

I want my kids to have an understanding of the truth of sex, the ins, the outs, the details no one wants to ask anyone—least of all their mom.

4. A high school government class.