It’s been quite the month at the house I share with my two sons, 20 and 17. Lying, stonewalling, sexting, violence, unprotected sex - you name it, and we’ve lived through it.

Dear God:

Thank you for helping me unclog the kids’ toilet just now, although I recognize I must have looked funny doing it naked, especially from your view up there. Taking care of that toilet was the last item on my To-Do List before I leave for my two-day-one-redeye business trip to California, so I especially appreciate your help.

It happens to all women. Married, single -sometimes the transition can take years, for others it literally happens overnight, but when it hits you, it hits you! You look in the mirror, you proclaim “Because I said so…” and BAM you’re your mother. I didn’t realize it at first, the evidence was there; the smell of bleach lingering in the air, the old shirts that are now dust rags, lowering the heat in the middle of winter and telling my husband to suck it up and put on a sweater.

Under a crushing book deadline, I’ve noticed I’ve gotten a wee bit lax about a few things. Along with the multiplying dust bunnies in every corner, too many take-out dinners, and the piling up of unpaid bills and unread magazines, there’s been a slight relaxation of our family “screen time” rules. I can’t entirely blame this on my book deadline.

After the kids are asleep, she corners Michael in the kitchen and says, “About the puppy.”

“Heather,” he says, “there is no need to make any rushed decisions. We have the whole weekend.”

When I was a kid, my mom had this thing about x-rays at the dentist. Every time my brother and I went for our annual teeth cleaning and check-up, the dentist wanted to take x-rays of our mouths, and every time my mother would refuse to let him. I didn’t mind - I hated having to bite down on that plastic thing shoved inside my cheek, and the lead vest they put over my torso always made me nervous.

The new AMC drama The Killing is a merciless, riveting slog through despair and the unrelenting Seattle rain as two homicide detectives are obsessed with trying to solve the murder of a teenage girl and the girl’s parents are floundering in an ocean of grief, trying to comprehend what seems unfathomable.

It’s funny how much your life can change in a decade. In my young 20s I envisioned the next 10 years to bring me a fast-paced career as a journalist, travel and maybe a child or two. I would be fashionable and cool and tuned into the latest trends.

I’ve read countless blog posts, articles, arguments and have thrown myself into several face-to-face and twitter discussions regarding the latest parenting controversy – genderless parenting. When it first came up, I thought what the hell is that? And when I found out that it’s when parents decide not to put any emphasis on what gender their child is, like parents Kathy Witterick and David Stocker who are raising their third child genderless, I was confused.

Large families - think Kate Gosselin’s crew of eight, the Duggars’ 19-kid-family and Nadya Suleman’s dozen+ - have been depicted by pop culture as old timey circus acts, something for which you’d pay admission at a county fair in order to enter a shadowy tent and marvel at this oddity.