Jennifer Huffman is a reporter and the business editor of the Napa Valley Register. She's also mom to three daughters under the age of 21. Huffman writes a column about her family called "Surrendering to Motherhood" which runs every other Monday. 

What’s the worst part about a blissful, soul-soothing eight-day trip to Maui?

It all started on a trip to my favorite place: Target.

I just took the youngest Huffman prom dress shopping.

My husband was gathering up travel supplies to pack for a business trip to London.

Three weeks ago I got the news no woman wants to hear.

Two weeks ago I looked at our checkbook with a sinking feeling.

It was the Wednesday before my second marathon and I knew I had made a big mistake.

There have been rumblings in the Huffman house. Murmurings. Dropping of hints.

When our middle daughter asked me if I was going to the Napa women’s march on Saturday morning, my first reaction was to say no.

The day before Colorado College Girl went back to college and the five Huffmans became four again, this mom suggested that we all do something fun together.

I was at an outdoor holiday party when I noticed another woman about my age standing close —but not too close — to an outdoor heater.

Two things about this election have got me all riled up: HER vs. HIM and “Let’s Make Marijuana Legal” aka Prop. 64.

I can’t find my Social Security card, texted Colorado College Girl.

On our last day at Disneyland, our Colorado College Girl woke up in a panic.

Kevin Courtney recently wrote about Napa being known for inventing the boysenberry and loudspeaker.

A weekend ago, Colorado College Girl, Grandma Sue and I met up at Disneyland.

Two weeks ago, our washing machine started making a bad noise — a clunking, clanking, death-rattling kind of noise.

Things are great at the Register’s new offices on Soscol Avenue. We have new paint, new carpets and new cubicles.

A few weeks ago, I went for a run with my friend Marci and both of our dogs.

What does a dad need for Father’s Day really? More socks? Another tool box? A tie?

I apologize to all you Warrior fans out there. On a scale of 1 to 10 of Warrior fandom, I’m probably a 2. Maybe a 2.5 during the playoffs.

Some people ration water. We ration cars. With four Huffman drivers and three Huffman cars, there’s no getting around it.

We moms of teenagers know we have to appreciate the small things in life.

What is it with dogs and ticks these days?

The youngest Huffman had been a legal driver for barely 24 hours when she and her older sister had their first “sharing the car” fight.

The howl from the Huffman daughter rang out across the home. It was the kind of cry that causes dogs to join in and parents of teenagers to wince.

So the youngest Huffman is about to turn 16, and boy do we all know it.

Just minutes before 9 a.m. this past Tuesday, I sat poised in front of my computer, fingers hovered over the keys.

From across the family room I could hear the two younger Huffman girls giggling.

Things got ugly at our family Christmas party last month.

We have a new VIP in the family. He’s less than 2 feet tall, can’t talk and likes to eat with his hands.

We moms are good at imagining all kinds of kid-related emergencies. We parents are professional assume-the-worsters. Once you pop out a baby or three, you never see things the same again.

I need something to wear for Decades Day, said the youngest Huffman.

The Most Embarrassing Mom has struck again and this time with a new accomplice: Jay, the Southwest gate agent.

Books are awesome. Free books are even awesomer.