My household has become one giant protest. It didn’t happen overnight. It was like a slow leak in the upstairs bathroom that’s so benign it was ignored. Then the ceiling in the kitchen caved in.I now find myself with a bunch of kids who don’t want to do what they are supposed to.
They don’t want to make their beds. What’s the point when they are just going to sleep in them again? They don’t want to walk their dog, even though they promised to when I agreed to get them a COVID puppy.
I’ve since discovered what good liars…
Show me your face.
I want to see the lines around your mouth
From your years of worry.
I want to see the scars left
From the bout of teenage acne you lost.
I want to see the mole on your face
That you’re afraid is skin cancer.
I want to know you.
The you behind the concealer and foundation.
The you behind the smiling facade of perfection.
“Does the Easter Bunny have Corona,” my four-year-old said. We were standing in our front yard under a blooming dogwood tree, observing our surroundings using our senses. It was part of a lesson her preschool teacher emailed us. The air was fragrant with spring blossoms, and birds chirped and flew above us. The neighborhood was busier in some ways, quieter in others, no cars were on the roads, but a lot of walkers and cyclists were, taking advantage of the mild New Jersey spring day.
“No, the Easter Bunny is okay,” I said, “and doesn’t have Corona.”
Easter is in…
“So, now we have a little time for a just few questions.” the curriculum director said.
Over 30 hands extended up toward the vaulted ceiling in perfect unison. It reminded me of watching synchronized swimming in the Olympics.
I was in the cafeteria of my daughter’s elementary school for the monthly morning PTO meeting. I should have been out getting some of my holiday shopping done. Today’s topic was the new Gifted and Talented program and the director of curriculum had just gone over a slide show about it. At least 100 people were in the room, seated at the…
“So, what do you do?” I’m confronted by this question everywhere I go, at weddings, at funerals, or at the playground.
For years I had my answer. “I work at a bank”. My husband would chuckle and tell me that it sounded like I was a bank teller who gave away free toasters.
That generic answer was never good enough for my interrogators “Well, where do you work?” My answer would only provide another crumb of information “An investment bank in Manhattan”.
But they still wanted more. “Which bank?” they would ask. I would give up and just say it…
August, 1997. I had just returned to Bryn Mawr College for my senior year. My friends and I took the Septa R5 into Philly on our first Saturday night back. I was in Gap blue jeans, a black cami tank and black lace up boots. We walked past head shops, record stores and tattoo parlors along South Street, and that’s when I saw the body piercing shop.
I wanted a piercing. Nothing crazy, just a cartilage ring. I had been thinking about it for months but when I mentioned it to my mom she flinched, reminding me that I was…
I never thought I would want to be a mother. I lived most of my life never wanting kids. When my older siblings had children I had no interest in them. I tolerated them. I feigned enthusiasm in their milestones. I gave them empty compliments. When I had to babysit them, I got my boyfriend to change their diapers and rock them to sleep while I sat on the couch and read Barron’s for work.
Then after I got married and was in my 30s my feelings changed. I wanted children. I got pregnant on my first try. It ended…
My 3 year old is an asshole. She’s a mean girl, just like Liz Kasprinsky
from my childhood, who was your BFF one day and made your chest
puff up with pride at being cool, only to dump you the next day and treat
you like you were invisible. To you, my 3 year old is adorable. With
curly blonde locks that are neatly pulled back in a pink and purple
sparkly hair clip, shiny bright blue eyes, and a small dimple in her
left cheek. She behaves like a child movie star, she knows how to read
Writer, Mom, Lifepath Discoverer