A “Mamafesto”
The second Sunday in May can be complicated. Continue reading A “Mamafesto”
Tag: motherhood
When Saturday Night Is Enough
My daughter, Emerson, graduated from 5th grade last Friday. It was a tender, joyful ceremony, as these things are, with applause for every child and a surprisingly well-choreographed group performance of (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life from Dirty Dancing. There was a slide show that condensed the past 7 years into just a couple of minutes — round-cheeked preschoolers stretching into 11-year-olds as we watched (which is just how it feels in … Continue reading When Saturday Night Is Enough
The Solid Ground I Walked On And The Safe Air I Breathed
When I was 6 years old, my mother and father divorced. He vanished like a sorcerer’s trick and she, until then a stay-at-home mother, went to work. She was very glamorous, dressing each morning in silk and wool, donning tall leather boots and statement jewelry. I had only the vaguest idea of what she did, but I imagined her as one of the career gals … Continue reading The Solid Ground I Walked On And The Safe Air I Breathed
It’s Called FaceTime for a Reason
This summer, my then 8-year-old daughter, Emerson, experienced two important rites of passage. First, she became the object of a young man’s affection. This boy, whom we’ll call DG, had it bad for my moppet. So bad, in fact, that he asked if she had email, and told her that if she did NOT have email he’d make an email for her, so they could write … Continue reading It’s Called FaceTime for a Reason
Unexpectedly Expecting
About two years ago I performed at The Jukebox, a storytelling/karaoke series run by my good friends Steve Jacobs, Margaret Lyons, and Steve Heisler. The topic of the evening was parenthood, and while the story I told isn’t the kind of thing Hallmark cards are made of, it is a love letter to my daughter, and so I thought I’d share it today. Happy Mother’s Day, … Continue reading Unexpectedly Expecting
Grown ups
My husband, Jonathan, and I both had the kind of childhoods where we were left to look out for ourselves a lot. Not because we weren’t loved. We were, very much, and also well provided for. But in the houses where we were raised, there were larger issues that needed attention, and those concerns took priority. When I was a little girl, my mother was … Continue reading Grown ups
Some Thoughts on Father’s Day, and Spelling Tests
My husband, Jonathan, and I joke that our 7-year-old daughter, Emerson, is me in a him package. In so many ways, it’s true. She’s inherited all of his gorgeousness — the tall, lean, muscular body type, the huge hazel eyes that are mostly green, the creamy skin that turns bronze at the slightest lick of sun, the distractingly full mouth (honestly, I live with such … Continue reading Some Thoughts on Father’s Day, and Spelling Tests
Black Box
My mother annoys me. I love her, and we get along fine. Better than fine, frequently. We make each other laugh, and we’re on the same side more often than not. She adores my daughter and treats her like royalty, like Emerson is here to do something very important and my mother’s job is to nurture her until she fulfills her destiny. And that fills … Continue reading Black Box
Working Without a Net 