“It’s been 30 years, “he said turning the page in his calendar.  “30 years …” his voice trails off into the purgatory of what might’ve been. Parents are not meant to survive their children. And yet there are many who exist in this backward world, having outlived those who should be our legacy. Life’s natural rhythm…

“Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these,  ‘it might have been’.” Sadness that you no longer walk upon this earth washes over me. When I’m driving a familiar route or moving through mundane tasks, my conscious mind finds room to wander, and there you are.  What might’ve been, what should…

Off the cuff. By the seat of your pants. Just wing it. Impromptu. It’ll work out. Don’t sweat the details. Everything is going to be okay. The mere act of typing these phrases nauseates me. I plan. God chuckles. I plan again. God snickers. No plan survives contact with the enemy.  Mine makes the first…

My father died 41 years ago in October.  He was good and died young. He was 57. I was 12. When a child loses a parent at such a young age, she must make choices. There are so many milestones, so much history that would’ve been written together but instead must be filled in with…

Love is the thread that tethers me to my children.  And husband. Like is just not strong enough. Not tonight. Not on rushed, late-for-school mornings or at doctor’s appointments where needles are needed. Love is the thread that pulls me to make the appointments, to hustle us out the door, to set limits. Love loves…

Life is precious. Life is good. And it’s fragile. Our dumb yet wise, kind yet crass, vulgar yet graceful mutt, Bruno, suffered a massive stroke last month while we were on vacation in Cancun. We are blessed that friends who love him were with him as the vet gently shuffled him off this mortal coil….

How does anyone know anything? With cries of fake news and opinions rechristened as facts, how does anyone know anything? “Did you know that there is an animal called a kaka?” “Huh? No.” “Seriously, this game I’m playing said so. I typed in k-a-k-a and it said that it’s an animal.” That was also almost the cause of an accident, so…

Every time one of us walks out the front door there is a chance that we won’t return through it. And yet we go about our day assuming that we will. But what if the thin thread that holds all of this together were to unravel? I’d hate for my daughter’s inheritance to be an…

“The lipstick you were wearing yesterday wasn’t right.” “I wasn’t wearing any.” “Well, that’s the problem.  Here. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a gold tube emerge from her purse. “Try this one, it’ll work better on you than it does on me.” My concentration broken, I look up from the computer…

My Happy List When I read a perfectly crafted sentence and discover I wrote it. When Waze doesn’t tell me to take an unprotected left turn. When my 13 -year-old daughter applies sunscreen without a fight. When my dog assumes Downward Dog. When my eldest is polite and honorable reflexively. When my Chanel has a…

Maternal love is a constant tension between caring and its opposite. “Choose your battles wisely,” my friends and I remind ourselves and each other.  But in the moment, it is so very hard to make any choice let alone a wise one. What to let slide? “I don’t care what you wear to Joan’s party.”…

I work at a church part time.  I see them.  All of them sad. Sometimes they’re mad too. At God for taking their beloved.  At the injustice of the Universe.  At the audacity of the sun to keep rising and setting despite their loss. They rage against the dying of their loved one’s light.  They’re…

Why are there few things as satisfying as Fruit Ninja?  Why can’t my hair look like I just walked out of Drybar every morning of my life?  Why does Chardonnay have more calories than Diet Coke? Why does inspiration strike when I don’t have time to write?  Why can’t my daughter just trust that I…

Sleep is the new sex. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no prude. I like sex. It’s a good thing.  But the blessed abundance of my full and fulfilling life is exhausting.  So many roles: wife, mother, friend, employee, writer.  So few hours in the day. I love sleep.  Luscious, indulgent, glorious sleep. I also love…

“You have to get back on a schedule.” “Uh, huh,” said my chipmunk-cheeked 13-year-old. “It’s still a time to learn,” I replied, knowing her sass was confirmation that her mouth was healing well. “Uh, nah.” “Yes, it is.  Life is for learning!” “Uh, nah.” It was then that I knew my daughter was fully recovered…

I grew up in New York City and believe nature is out to kill us.  Seriously. As a native New Yorker, I grew adept at quickly judging (and prejudging) the naked apes around me and could assess who was a danger and who could simply be one to saunter past. For my 25 years in…

“I don’t want to go to school today,” said my eight-year-old as I nudged him into consciousness. “Why?” “These,” he said pointing to the prescription glasses we’d picked up the afternoon before. “There are other kids with glasses in your class.” “So.” “Well, you’re going to have to wear them at school someday.  Might as…

Tongue and eggs.  Even 40 years later I remember my father’s favorite delicatessen order. “Was this how he liked them?” My daughter, who knows the story, asks. A wistful nostalgia for what might’ve been fills my chest as I answer, “Not quite, a little less raw.” There is a belief in Judaism that talking about…

I was toweling off my then five-year old son after his shower and thought I saw an odd, discolored patch on his penis.  Apparently, he noticed my eyes’ focus fall from his face to the part of his anatomy that will, likely, come to rule him. “Mom, I’ve had that for a long time.  Since…

There is an age-old pact between parents and children whereby parents embarrass their children while the little buggers try to kill us.  I’m very comfortable embarrassing myself. This is good as my children are exceptionally good at trying to drive me into an early grave. My tween constantly – and with great conviction – tells…

It’s been said that one of George Stephanopoulos’ most important and challenging tasks when he worked as a senior adviser for Bill Clinton was to absorb Bill’s ‘Blue Rage’ every morning.  I have rage. Sometimes my rage grows so hot that it too is blue. I don’t have a senior policy advisor or anyone whose…

​I am full, buzzed and lying naked in the middle of a king-sized bed. I make snow angels on the soft white sheets. I am in bliss. I love my family truly, deeply, madly. I love them more as I write these words because I am about 400 miles away from them. For me, absence…