You’ve probably heard the saying: ‘You only get 18 summers, 18 Christmases, 18 birthdays with your kids, make them count.’ And while that’s a sweet, Pinterest-worthy reminder to be present and appreciate the little moments, let’s be honest, 18 is just the opening act.
I’ve started more diets than I’ve finished books, ok, that’s a lie. I launch into a grand plan of greens, cardio, and kale-induced regret. And each time, I stopped, knowingly, willingly.
I clearly didn’t think this column thing through. My life is boring. I couldn't think of a single thing to write about this week that doesn’t include my son’s health, because that consumes my life. Then I remembered what a great passenger I am.
