Becoming mothers.

When we were younger (and by ‘we’ I mean my small group of childhood girlfriends) — not yet driving, still celebrating birthdays with pool parties and sleepovers, passing multicolor notes in study hall — we would comment on the fact that someday we’d attend each other’s weddings.  If we weren’t then distracted by another pressing topic, the conversation would continue:

“Just think about when we all have babies.

“And when our babies hang out together.

“Hopefully we all have babies at the same time.”

“Yeah, we should definitely plan it that way.”

“We have to.”

“You and (insert name of current love interest) will have super cute babies.”

Etc. Continue reading

Join the Conversation: February Edition

I love to turn the calendar page. Despite having calendars on my iPhone and iPad and MacBook, I do still have an actual paper calendar on the wall in my kitchen where I record birthdays and important dates (the day in 1999 when I learned how to surf, the day in 2003 when I attended my first party at my now-husband’s house) — and where I spend a quiet moment every month acting out the passage of time by pulling my calendar from its hook, flipping a page over and revealing 30-some new little boxes. Continue reading

An old dream.

The January edition of the Mother Sugar Salon, I’ll admit, rather stumped me.  The question (At this point in your life, is there a dream you will never get to fulfill? What is it- and what makes you so sure it’s out of reach?) knocks up against one of the deep-seated principles of our culture: this idea of living our dreams, of all things being always within our reach if we simply try hard enough.  My knee-jerk response to the question, then, was, No! Absolutely not.  At first, I could not imagine (or perhaps have so trained myself not to allow myself to imagine) listing even one ‘dream’ or aspiration of mine that I couldn’t, in one way or another, fulfill. Continue reading

Surely, we can do better than this.

I’m not quite sure where to begin this post, as I’ve started it now about a hundred times in as many different ways, so I’ll simply get right to it.  It’s superfluous to say that what has happened in Newtown, Connecticut, this past week has thoroughly horrified me, and has prompted more tears than I’ve shed in a very long time.  The whole ordeal is both beyond words (so many fall so short and then make me cringe) and, I think, (simultaneously, contradictorily) demanding of words.  To say the very, very least, it is confusing. Continue reading

At Eighteen.

{A new series here at Mother Sugar, called The Salon: What You Know For Sure, inspired this post.  As I began drafting my contribution to the collection of comments (and commenters vying for some of Bitter en Zoet’s magical chocolate), … Continue reading