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.
It was the day before he oldest Huffman’s college graduation and only one last hurdle remained.
My dad hated being in the hospital. He liked being at home, sitting in his comfy chair, watching PBS and reading the newspaper with Joey the dog nearby.
Guys, my dad’s not doing so good. Or not doing so well. Whatever, grammar police.
When it comes to our kids we moms usually don’t like surprises.
We have exactly seven weeks until the last Huffman daughter graduates from high school.
Last Sunday, I did not run my third Napa Valley Marathon.
It’s been nine weeks since our dog died and I can’t stop obsessing over dogs.
On Super Bowl Sunday I did something a mom hardly ever (i.e. NEVER) gets to do: spend all day on the couch watching TV.
I recently discovered the greatest thing the world.
You know that song “Hard Candy Christmas”?
Future Jennifer has BIG plans for 2018.
On the first day of Christmas my family gave to me…
Pick me up early at school on Wednesday, said our youngest daughter. I’m getting my senior pictures taken and you need to hold the light reflector thingee.
Two weekends ago I went on a mom/runner getaway to the Monterey half marathon.
What are you doing Sunday night? asked the youngest Huffman.
My grandma’s house burned down in the fire.
My husband and I were in Lake Tahoe for an anniversary getaway this past weekend when his cell phone began buzzing and beeping in the middle of the night early Monday morning.
If our luck holds, by this time next year us Huffman parents will have three daughters in college – all at the same time!
Don’t tell the Huffman daughters but I’ve been hocking their old trinkets, jewelry and other castoffs at Jackie’s Consignment and the cash is rolling in!
All three of our girls (17, 20 and 23) were home this summer. It was kind of like a Huffman Hokey Pokey.
We just celebrated our one-year anniversary at our new offices at the Register and I’m still pinching myself.
We moms have come to reluctantly accept that after their first year of college, most of our college kids have flown the coop.
When we moms are feeling particularly Super Woman-like, sometimes we get inspired to act out Super Woman moves.
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’m a bad daughter: I bullied my own mother on Mother’s Day.
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.
Huffman Daughter No. 2 has discovered cooking.
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.
Editor’s note
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.
Last week my husband came home with some alarming news.
Well THAT didn’t go like I planned.
Two things about this election have got me all riled up: HER vs. HIM and “Let’s Make Marijuana Legal” aka Prop. 64.
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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.
Have you seen that video on YouTube about how to hug your teenager?
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.
Normally I avoid porta-potties at all costs.
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.