It is truly coming. Not the end of days. Not the big one. Not a sharknado. Yesterday we spent two hours with my daughter’s wedding planner. I am officially, and inescapably, the mother of the bride now.
It turns out one can be furious and grim, while simultaneously being jubilant. Yes, of course it has to do with a computer and a “help” line.
So how was my son’s wedding weekend in Philadelphia? Why, thanks for asking. It was perfect. I feared all the predictable disasters. I was gloriously wrong.
As the years pass by and I look back on the first five years of my children’s lives, I suppose my memories will soften, but if I were asked right now to sum up life with toddlers in one word, that word would be “sticky.”
After being one of her fans over the years, I was shocked to read several bitter and sullen quotes from the longtime editor of Cosmopolitan magazine, Helen Gurley Brown. It seems the immutable laws of life and time had finally stolen her endless energy and sex appeal, or at least she thought so, and she […]
It was a pretty tough day, almost 20 years ago, as we returned from having our 6-week-old, all-gray, cute-as-a-button dwarf bunny put to sleep. The experience not only made me profoundly sad, it also exposed me as a fraud. I don’t think I ever regained my tough-guy status with my kids.
Names. Shakespeare pondered them. Spoiled heiresses make the most of them. But surnames aren’t the problem. The real challenges are the given names — first names, rather than last.
It seems a few of you have been wondering how my aforementioned search for the perfect mother-of-the-groom dress has gone.
There are, of course, so many reasons to love living in laid-back Southern California, but I have begun to appreciate it from an entirely different perspective, since my son moved to Boston.