We asked Sandy Shore, an expert from the credit counseling company Novadebt, to tackle your most pressing queries. Here’s what she said about missing payments, the new credit card rules, and when to get help. Read More

My 10-year-old son has suffered from chapped lips since he was 6. Not just the chapped lips we all get once in a while: he looks like a clown from October to March. Once the dentist actually stopped working on his filling, stood up, and asked me: "What are you going to do about his lips? They're getting infected." Talk about embarrassing... after trying every lip balm around (and having to chase after him with the dreaded stick as soon as he saw it), I brought him to the doctor. His diagnosis: "lip licking." All I had to do was get him to stop. Okaaaay...I needed another solution.

I found it: Neosporin Overnight Renewal Therapy. It really did work overnight. And he doesn't mind putting it on -- it's light, creamy without being greasy, doesn't burn, and has no smell. It'll be the first Thanksgiving in years my mother-in-law doesn't walk in and announce: "What's wrong with his face? Don't you take care of him?"

They also have a daytime product that I think you're supposed to use with the nighttime one, but to be honest, the nighttime worked so well, I didn't even use the daytime one. Just wanted to share this find in case any of you are dealing with the same thing! It costs around five bucks and you can find it in most drugstores and supermarkets.

Phillip and I attended the required marriage preparation classes at church before our wedding. We sat through these with fake-interested smiles on our faces, ignoring the couple who said they'd never had a fight in twenty-some years of marriage (PLEASE) and wanting to crawl beneath the tables for The Intimacy Talk. We totally tuned out the people who came to talk to us about finances because whatever, like we needed to take these stupid classes ANYWAY. But boy do I wish I had listened up for the money stuff, people. I have been in charge of the family finances for about a year now and I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM DOING.

I'm not entirely sure what my deal is, since I somehow managed to financially survive years Eighteen to Twenty-Three (those being the post-parents pre-Phillip years) on my own just fine. I paid my own bills, did not sink into credit card debt, paid my rent on time and deposited my very own paychecks. In other words, I was a Big Girl wearing Big Girl Money Pants.

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My birthday’s a marker of a kind, one that impels me to stop for a moment and marvel at where I am right now, where I’ve been, and the exciting conclusion that there’s no telling where it’s all going. This year, as I look forward, there is one, huge, bigger-than-ever thought, and moment, before me. It stops me in my tracks.

Oh my God. I am going to be someone’s mom.

 

 

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I've never been big on strict schedules or routines, they stress me out. But when it came to bedtime, we always had a nice little thing going: stories, a few little songs, snuggles, goodnight kiss and see ya on the flipside. Read More