The Friday before Mother's Day, my work associate asked me for a favor. "I may need to work altered hours on Monday, if that is OK," she started. "I have a memorial service that I need to go to." And then, almost under her breath: "It was a suicide."
Kids are insightful, and if led with love, are fully equipped to handle the life and death cycle. This experience was bigger than our family.
I have to point out that I think of and miss my mother every day. If there are days that are especially hard, it is not when Hallmark says I should feel bad, it's when I do: my birthday and her birthday.
I may have cried when I heard her stores were closing. Ok, I cried a lot. I cried so much that my husband had to create a special "Betsey Johnson Emergency Fund" that we used to purchase tons of Betsey Johnson items.
Happy Mother's Day To mothers everywhere We know that once they come out There is no turning back And that it all gets harder with age Not easier We...
Being my mother's only child has been a blessing and a curse. It has meant that I have been lucky enough to have her all to myself. All of her love, generosity and support. When obstacles began to come down our way, it meant that I was the only person who could love her as only a daughter can.
She was my strength -- literally -- and helped bathe me just as she did 30 years ago. She was with me as I battled the nausea and fatigue from the chemo.
There I was on one end of the phone trying to sound calm, cool and collected because I wanted to protect her. And there she was on the other end of the phone, offering consoliatory words in an effort to protect me, her daughter.
Where'd I go? What happened to the girl who wore high heels, and read books and listened to NPR? What happened to the girl who knew how to twerk and put on mascara and wrote an honors thesis, who called her friends on their birthdays, and kissed her partner goodnight?
As we get older and our children leave the nest, our priorities evolve, and what people do to bring joy into others' lives is important.
Okay, I'm going to go ahead and say what may sound entirely self-serving. Know what's really keeping the whole herd of clatter-trapping humanity slouching toward anything that might resemble progress? Grandmothers.
My expectations about midlife, and having a white picket fence around my home, obscured the real view.
A lot of my bookworm qualities and habits stem from a childhood surrounded by and bolstered by the stacks of books my mother read. While the whole family was distinctly bookish -- we really have more books than is healthy -- my mom was book hoarder in charge.
As working women across the United States are finding jobs as the economy recovers from the Great Recession, it is more crucial than ever that they receive the same pay as their male counterparts.
I remember thinking as I was reading it, Well, this isn't a very original idea. Every mom goes through it, so what's the big deal? And then I found that I was crying.
You may recognize the spiral-downward logic when your internal barometer registers that someone is seemingly much more accomplished -- not to mention much more glamorous -- than you are: What decisions have I made that brought me to this place? Have they been the right ones?