If you have something to say...
Say it on the Huffington Post
If you have something to say...
Say it on the Huffington Post
When I heard rumors about Jay-Z and Beyonce heading to Cuba, I was feeling pretty confident about my trendy choice to go that way. But then I bagged Cuba, and booked a flight to Vienna, Austria, home of the Lipizzaner stallions and Wienerschnitzel.
I have come to realize recently that my memories of my mother over the past 30 years consist more of those times when I have felt her presence since her death than when she was alive.
The plates reminded me of dinners in our old house, and looking around the living room, I could imagine my father (who had passed away 27 years ago this month) sitting on the sofa. Each clang of the grandfather clock reminded me of being a little girl.
One day soon, the future will arrive. Our kids will be grown and we'll move on with our lives separate from theirs. And when it does, and we are in the company of women friends both old and new, we'll be reminded not of our differences, but of the single most important way we are the same. We are mothers.
Over the past three years I've spent a lot of time thinking and writing about sisters. I'm not a psychologist, but here's what I've learned.
Sibling relationships provide your child with their first lessons about how to handle the more difficult aspects of long-term, intimate relationships. Here are some ideas about how to help your kid get the most out of these lessons.
When dealing with a jealous sister during your wedding, you need to be realistic about your relationship. I get it. Now is YOUR time. YOUR special day. Your sister should be there for you the way you were there for her, right? Not if she's the jealous sister.
We were made to be sisters, and it was clear right from that first Christmas how well we balance each other out. Nothing makes this bond as clear as Christmastime.
During the first week or so following the death of someone's child, we are pretty clear about how to help that parent. I am concerned, though, that in our culture, we are at a loss for how to help these parents once the first week or so has passed.
It wasn't even my own private number, but the one my family shared. It had a long extension cord so I could move around my room, but that was as far as I could go. Nonetheless, it was a symbol of independence. I could talk without anyone listening to my conversations. Or so I thought.
I was thrilled for Mom and Aunt Maxine and their new-and-improved sisterhood. So what if they didn't remember names and events and where they kept their reading glasses. Also wiped out were the insults and hurt feelings and you-started-its, and good for them.
It's been 35 years since my parents were together as a couple. It's odd for me to even refer to my father and my mother in some plural reference. However, life happens and unfolds in baffling ways.
More than scrapbooks, more than baby books, my children are themselves memory keepers, especially of the details of each other's childhoods.
It was one of those in-the-moment kind of statements like, "I'm going to buy some bees and learn how to make my own honey." It seems like a great idea and is a nice sentiment, but never actually comes to fruition. Except that it did. All because Karen made it happen.
Hello, and welcome back to "Demonic Possession Is a Real Thing" Part 3. The palpable hatred in No. 1 led to the blood bath in No. 2, so at this point, we're basically kicking an extremely dead (but still sparkly) horse.
Another National Childhood Cancer Awareness Month has come and gone, and as we look back, we can't help but ponder -- is the country more aware of the...
