Does he notice?

Does he notice that I fold his towels in a sweet way? That I use natural laundry soap and make him take his vitamins and pay up for the all-natural body wash to keep him healthy and away from crummy chemicals? Does he notice that I sneak glances at his 15-year-old self, trying to drink…

Hurricanes and gentle breezes

My eldest son blew through me like a hurricane for nine long months, intent on getting to his final destination—which was, namely, anywhere outside of my body. Not one to be easily confined, he clued me in early to his preferences. Sick for roughly eight of those nine months, I wondered what had overcome me….

Raising a warrior

My hair stylist is a tough man of few words. But he has opened up as he has gotten to know me. Today, he is a chatterbox. I have just introduced him to the enneagram when this tatted up, ponytailed tough guy tells me he is certain he would be some sort of warrior type….

A barn burner

We absorb what our parents show us, deep in our cells, unknowingly. Even as we fight, as teens, to be anything but them, their love seeps into our bones—the very marrow–changing us. Some of those changes appear as is, others are stored for future us, tempered in our cells with time. It must be hard…

A shout-out from the Queen of Onomatopoeia

Slam. Stomp, stomp, stomp. Clap clap. “Hellooooo all!” And I make my entrance. That’s a lot of hullaballoo for an entrance into my own family room, right? But we’ve entered the teenaged years. The teenaged-with–girlfriend years. Oy. I find myself going up and down my stairs enough for it to qualify as aerobic activity. As…

Scenes from the car

As my foot pushes an imaginary pedal on the passenger side of my one and only not-yet-fully-paid-for car, I yell, “Brake, brake, brake!” “Mom, it scares me when you do that.” “Really, son? Because it scares me when there are brake lights ahead of us at 100 feet, then 50 feet, then 10 feet and…

Hoodies as nemesis

The bathroom door is shut yet again. My God, it is happening. Puberty looms. Not for me, of course. I survived that wild wasteland many decades ago. But for my youngest. I remember clearly the same with his older brother. About midway through that eleventh year, the earth started to shift under my feet. And…

My beautiful bedraggled bows

I wrote this week of learning which gifts in life are meant for us and which are not ours to unwrap. And by gifts, I mean people. Because, at their very essence, people are gifts. We all minister to each other in some way, shape or form. Some of you responded with your own trials…

Lessons I did not mean to learn

So much of what I have learned in life was unwitting. As a parent, this realization fills me with a strange combination of relief and chagrin. Because I can’t seem to stop talking. The teachable moments come fast and furious sometimes. I have so much hard-earned wisdom to impart about honesty, integrity, love (it’s a…

When push comes to shove

I missed the memo. Surely. The one that spells out, in detail, what being a “good” mother is. Specifically, I missed section 4, clause 28b, which states: “Push your child to excel. Push for constant busyness, excellent grades, a multitude of extracurricular activities. And it is not enough for those three conditions to simply be…

Two girls entered a wood . . . which one are you?

One emerged a skillful, confident woman; the other remained a helpless girl. The question, friends, is–which one are you? I come from a seemingly long line of independent women, women who did not always follow societal norms. So those girls in college who gushed about who they wanted to marry when they graduated? Yeah, I…

Son of a schoolie

It sucks to be the son of a former nerd. Even more so to be the son of two former nerds. Sorry, my sons. So be it. Recently, my eldest was at a gathering of his sports team. It was a new team and the coaches wisely thought the boys should break bread and get…