Love Means Showing Up
I must confess that I sometimes wonder if being a feminist makes my job of raising girls harder. Sometimes, the idea of girls who smile and nod and do what they are told without ever questioning sounds pretty dreamy. Being a Women’s Studies minor in college prepared me to fight for women’s rights; it
We had lunch recently with an old friend. He asked about my parents and my siblings and after a while, I asked about his. Everything about his face and body language changed. He went from being animated to being unable to complete full sentences. When we got back in the car, I said to
Growing up, we had a friend whose mom lost her mind one Christmas Eve. As I recall the story, the kids were all acting up and fighting; someone didn’t want to wear a tie to church and someone was whining and I’m sure they’d all had too much sugar. The mom, who was probably exhausted
I was terrified about my daughter entering adolescence. I’d heard so many horror stories about the dramatic changes that happen to teenage girls; I was braced for her to turn into a monster. She honestly didn’t change that much. Caroline is still herself—just stretched out a little. She’s still lovely. I should have been more
When I’m watching a cross-country race, I usually position myself near the finish. The finish line is a great place to get dramatic pictures. I also love the cheering crowds and the coaches yelling out encouragement. Sometimes, a coach will yell, “Show me what you’ve got left!” and a runner will find a burst
Both of my teenagers have been more mad at me than usual in the past few months. My best guess is that they are mostly angry that I won’t let them do everything they want to do. There is a weird vibe in our house that I’ve struggled to identify. Is it like a
I have been accidentally leaving my phone at home a lot lately. I’ll race out to run errands or attend one of my children’s events and realize that I forgot it again. This being without my phone is new for me. I think one of two things is happening. The first possibility is that
A few years ago, I was talking to a wise friend about some of the circumstances surrounding the twins’ birth and adoption that were a bit heartbreaking. I was spiraling into despair when she said, “Is there anything you can do about that?” I responded that I could somehow get them a few more weeks
I get it. I understand the fear. I see you. I hear you. But I’m going to need you to tamp that crazy down. Just as our kids were returning to school last week, I noticed a lot of alarmist posts on social media. One was about a teenager narrowly escaping sex-trafficking at our local
Elizabeth was bent over at the waist, leaning forward, perched precariously over her skis. She had gotten up on skis before, but she’d never stayed up for this long. She was going all around the little lake where my parents have a cabin in South Carolina. We were watching on the dock when I heard