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I wrote a column for The Hinsdalean in 2018 called "Superhero Moms and Dads" that was about all of the many cool things we do for our kids as they grow up and how we parents should feel like superheroes because our kids see us that way. It's been about five years since I wrote that article. My husband and I are about to send our firstborn off to college and see our younger son begin senior year of high school. Seemingly overnight, we've gone from superheroes to ordinary...
“Why are you being so weird?” my son asked me as we drove to the DMV to get his driver’s license. “I feel like it’s my last chance to teach you,” I said, as I hurriedly told him what to do when you encounter a funeral procession on the road. He gave me a sidelong look and nodded. “I know, Mom. I know how to drive.” To my kids, I’m that annoying, unwanted advice-giver. I know they want to be independent and make their own decisions, but I’m still teaching and safeguarding an...
I opened my car windows on a recent warm spring day, and, as I drove, the fresh air hit my cheeks and whipped my hair into happy knots. U2's song "40" played on the radio, and Bono's voice led the concert audience as they sang in unison, "How long to sing this song?" As I sang along, I thought about how the song fits what we're all experiencing right now - it's about a person who is suffering and praying repeatedly to be rescued. These past months, I've found myself looking...
5! It’s almost here, and I’ve never been more excited to welcome a new year. New Year’s is usually a pretty ho hum holiday in my book, but not this year, no ma’am. It’s been a train wreck of a year, and my readiness for transition from the old to the new is bigger than ever. Here’s how I would describe it ... Like a record player run out of songs, 2020 has been stuck riding the label, sliding and crackling at the end, the staticky nothingness signaling the conclusion of the...
One of my friends from college used to post questions on a little dry-erase board on the outside of his freshman dorm room door. He wrote the questions for fun - and to see how we would answer them when we walked by. The questions ranged from random to ridiculous, philosophical to funny. One question he posted was: "If you were stuck in a vat of snot and someone threw poo at you, would you duck?" I was usually too busy laughing to answer back on his board, but his question...
My teenage son, who runs cross country, shrugs and cringes slightly when I invite him to run with me these days. Once a junior Olympian and collegiate runner myself, I'm no slouch, but there's no denying that my speed and my cool-ness have faded with time. When I look in the mirror, I sometimes see my 18-year-old self with endless energy and a mischievous grin, but sometimes, I imagine I see one of my grandmas - shrunken, crotchety and glowering back at me. It's hard to see my...
Recently, a friend I saw at the orthodontist's office told me her family is missing all kinds of teeth. "Me, too!" I practically shouted, excited to know someone else plagued by weird orthodontics. I promptly rattled off our list of teeth that never materialized. It's pretty common, I guess - hypodontia - even Michael Jordan never got his right incisor, but I was happy to connect with my first, and only, no-incisor friend. When I'm plodding through the mundane, feeling a...
It was almost midnight when we settled in by the fire and my friend said to the group, "I want to hear everyone's favorite childhood memory." Groans of protest ensued. "Come on ... a favorite childhood memory, any childhood memory," he persisted. Tired but intrigued, we gave in. I passed on the first go round, combing my brain for a favorite. Other friends jumped right in with stories that ran the gamut - an exuberant purchase of a long forbidden video game system, a broken...
Every year, my husband and I debate the aesthetics of our outdoor holiday lights. I like the lights to look symmetrical and enchanting and labor over each light placement. He calls the job done after plugging in a few strands of lights and casting the tangled mass, like a fishing net, in the vicinity of our shrubs, eschewing order for natural chaos, and quickly moving on to other more important to-dos. I'm not sure whose approach is better, and I can see the merits of both...
My teenage son, who runs cross country, shrugs and cringes slightly when I invite him to run with me these days. Once a junior Olympian and collegiate runner myself, I'm no slouch, but there's no denying that my speed and my cool-ness have faded with time. When I look in the mirror, I sometimes see my 18-year-old self with endless energy and a mischievous grin, but sometimes, I imagine I see one of my grandmas - shrunken, crotchety and glowering back at me. It's hard to see my...
