In her non-writing moments, Annmarie Kelly-Harbaugh is a mother, teacher, and dog lover, an above-average cook and below-average housekeeper.  Both a dancing queen and a brick house, she is an avid reader of cooking websites, running magazines, and articles that promise she’ll lose weight fast. DadvMom is her first blog.

Dad Headshot

Her erstwhile husband, Kenneth Harbaugh, Esq. is much more formal.  He holds a Juris Doctor from Yale Law School and is a former U.S. Navy pilot. His writing has appeared in The New York Times, The National Post (Canada), the Yale Journal of International Law, and on National Public Radio. Because of these things, he is not as funny as his wife.

And he is not quite sure what erstwhile means.



Ken and Annmarie got married too young.

They spent their first anniversary sleeping on different continents and their fifteenth swimming in different seas. Along the way, they were blessed with three children, but have seldom parented them together.

Until now.

In the summer of 2014, Chinese year of the wooden horse, the Kelly-Harbaughs will move all of their outer wear, underwear, and Tupperware back under one roof. They will share a bathroom and eat dinner together.  Every single night.

Maybe DadvMom is just a chance to keep some healthy distance between parents who are now forced to share the TV remote.

Or maybe DadvMom is a simply a testament to the idea that it is possible to love one another and your children at the same time. There are lots of ways to split this gig, and if you don’t laugh at yourselves a little — or a lot — it will destroy you.

Even though some days it absolutely feels like it, we are not at war, not with one another, and not with the kids.

So here’s to parenting together apart, and to falling apart together, and everything in between.



To book Ken and Annmarie for your next corporate retreat or little Yatzik’s bar mitzvah, please email us at


LINKS (to other stuff we have written):


Eulogy for Hound —

The Dreaded Dress Code —

Gold Teeth —


The Baby We Lost —

Butterfly Band-aids —

Our Ugly Christmas Tree —