The IRS has nine questions to ask yourself if you’re not sure.
It’s tax season. The most stressful time of the year, for some. For others, it could mean a good chunk of change going into your wallet.
If you’re here, it means you probably have a hobby that you have attempted to monetize. Maybe you started a side hustle last year to supplement some extra income, and it’s working out fairly well.
If you’re selling pottery on Etsy, upcycling thrift store items, or running a salon out of your home, there are things to consider that could get you some good tax breaks from the IRS if your hobby qualifies as a business. …
Focus on the food, and be happier and healthier as a byproduct.
Think of the last meal you ate. What were you doing while you dug into your avocado toast or your artisan iced coffee? You were likely doing something else while you ate — whether that was driving, watching TV, or talking on the phone. We’re driven to multitask to make the most of our time and boost our productivity. Time is money, after all.
But when was the last time you truly enjoyed what you put into your body?
If you’re not immersing yourself in your meal, it’s likely leading you to overeat. Maximizing your time may also mean maximizing your waistline. …
A short story of magic and music.
The keys of the piano gave quickly under the young musician’s fingers as he practiced his latest spellsong. The sun had set long ago, and nothing but dim candlelight illuminated the stark white keys of his grand piano. He played mostly from memory, his eyes closed, and his long hair caressing his cheeks.
The music flowed, and he watched as the seedling on his windowsill shuddered against the magic. Soon, it gave in, and the music coaxed the plant to grow, its leaves unfurling and the buds growing, in faster than two heartbeats. …
The everyday challenge of motherhood is combating ourselves.
A mother’s love is not pure.
My love for my children is surreal at times.
It might be unconditional, but my love is not pure. I am not without fault. There are days when I get annoyed with my kids, and I want a break. Other times I want to be beside them and applaud their every waking moment.
My love isn’t some panacea for all my children’s woes and fears — I will always be there for them, but it will not heal their scars.
Mothers are not inherently selfless.
We chose to bring our children into the world. If I’m honest, our son came about to fulfill the duties expected of us. …
Teaching children the value of consent starts early.
Being a mother is the hardest job I’ve ever had. There is so much I don’t know. Mostly, I’ve been figuring out the whole ordeal as we go, trying to raise my son the best I can while also keeping my sanity intact. It’s a balancing act, and I figure that it’ll never really go away.
Among the many lessons I wish to impart upon my son and my daughter, I think there is no greater one than the importance of consent. …
And you’re probably just causing yourself harm.
Who doesn’t like to complain now and then? I know I do, and so does the majority of my family.
We complain about the weather, traffic, gas prices, politics, work, parenting, and just about every other touchy subject there is. Nothing is off-limits. The king of complaints is my very own father.
Some people go through tough times and come out of it stronger for it. My dad is not one of those people.
Sure, he gets through the tough times. But he doesn’t let go of them. He holds onto them and allows them to take the wheel of his life. It takes him in a very negative direction, and he takes all of us listening along with him. …
It took a while for me to realize I needed to put myself first.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I was going to marry young. Stumbling from high school and straight into my job made me a very naive girl.
It felt like I had found true love with my boyfriend, and we lost ourselves easily in one another. Quickly, we tied the knot in a simple courthouse proceeding and got pizza afterward. It was pretty perfect.
Fast forward one year later, and I was drained. The stark contrast compared to how I felt at the beginning was jarring. I had nothing left to give to him or myself. …
To fail, to achieve, to dream.
You probably know somebody who is a perfectionist. If you’re reading this, it might even be you.
Everything in this person’s life must be perfect — their home is arranged just so, they complete tasks in a timely manner, and they strive to be the best they can be at everything they do.
As a student, they excel beyond their peers, and as an adult, they perform beyond the expectations of everyone around them. They appear to have it all put together, and people flock to them for advice. How can I be like you? They clamor.
But the perfectionist has a secret. …
I haven’t come to this decision lightly.
The women in my family are almost all well-endowed. When I started to go through puberty, I expected to reach at least a C-cup, if not a D-cup. It almost seemed like a rite of passage for me. I was just biding my time until I joined them, the chosen ones.
When I reached fifteen-years-old without my anticipated breasts making an appearance, I was incredibly disappointed. After all, everywhere I looked in high school, guys usually went for girls who were more, well, gifted there. …
My in-laws don’t seem to think so.
Recently, my husband and I welcomed our second child, our baby girl, into the world.
Also recently, I reached the end of my maternity leave, and had to go back to work. My husband is a stay-at-home dad, and it was very hard for me to leave them to go back to work, but we all have our crosses to bear. In order to keep our current lifestyle running, we both have to make sacrifices.
Since my spouse has stayed at home with our toddler son for the past few years, I was confident that he would be able to handle taking on another small one for his workload. He’s become proficient at juggling the kids, is much more patient than I am when it comes to tantrums, and is an overall badass at his job. …
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