For New Old Moms to Learn Old New Tricks
For Christmas 2015, aka, my (so far) worst Christmas ever, I’m resuscitating last year’s Santa post- with a 2015 addendum on our ongoing Santa drama… My kid’s first Christmas was the first one in forever that I didn’t hate. Before Grace, I found every holiday after Halloween inconvenient at best, and greedily pushy at worst. The pressure of gift buying was as much fun as…
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While driving in the car– after being called ‘son’ or ‘little mister’ during four different retail excursions in one hour– and genuinely baffled, Grace asked me- GRACE: Am I a girl or am I a boy? I wonder if most of us who get this question nowadays silently thank or curse Caitlyn Jenner. While I’m all for people being who they are, I don’t care…
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Happiness had not come to her early in life. A thousand years of it would not have made her blasé. Her palate for all the joys of sense and intellect and spirit was fresh and unspoiled. Nothing would have been wasted on her. She liked more things and liked them more than anyone I have known. A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis Parenting is challenging on…
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Hand-Foot-Mouth is about as literal an illness name as one can get. Imagine a world so literal that pregnancy is called ‘baby-in-belly’ or (less reliably, these days), ‘I-got-f$@ked’. I almost prefer the poetry of pneumonia to hand-foot-mouth disease. Alls I know is trick-or-treating with a little girl with a fever and mouth ulcers, in a cootie-ridden, strangely smelling Batman Returns costume, while telling all her…
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Having a kid later in life stirs stuff up for This Old Mom. Smells, sensations and long-buried memories, designed to be forgotten once outgrown, bubble to the surface—like our very first loves. Grace’s first love is her lovey. It’s just a blue chenille square cloth with ribbon tabs and lots of stinky stains, but it’s Grace’s Rosebud. It’s her twitch, her compass, her happy place….
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Before 2008, Louis C.K. had a blunt nihilistic style that men loved. Then, he doubled his fan base by speaking the secret feelings of MOTHERS. Worldwide. The only time I ever got fired from a job, my boss asked me for a hug. To make him feel better about having fired me. What’s worse? I hugged the f*%er. Yesterday, I pick up Grace from school,…
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This Opinion Piece in the New York Post is bothering me. In the spirit of turning the other cheek I tried for days to pretend I didn’t read it. I told myself that no one really reads these pieces except the people who already agree with the well-known-agenda of the New York Post. But that didn’t make me able to un-read it. My critical thinking…
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As hard as it is to be related or married or work for a Virgo (which being married to a Virgo feels like), imagine how hard it is to actually be a Virgo. Virgo victims tend to feel always criticized by the Virgo in their life. If Virgo victims feel continually on the verge of a full-system critique, they don’t realize that Virgos live continually…
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Almost daily my breath is taken away by my daughter Grace’s beauty, which has absolutely zero to do with me. Huge comfort is taken knowing she won’t inherit my eczema or Canada’s psoriasis, or both of our genetic predispositions to depression and anxiety. Yet, it’s worrisome that she might develop depression and anxiety precisely because she cannot recognize herself in us. While the Syrian migrant…
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Every blade of grass has an angel that bends over it and whispers, “Grow! Grow!” -The Talmud Even though This Old Mom felt sudden moisture at the eyes while watching this video and instantly buying the gorgeous romantic song (a way hot & way young Jake Etheridge), and even though I just booked pricey tickets to fly to yet another gay wedding in Yonkers, (go…
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