This essay was first published on Mamalode. Every muscle in my body is aching and the clock is moving painfully slow. My daughter is ripping apart the playroom despite my pleas to calm down. “Mommy, I can’t find my gold shoes!” she screams at me, with tears running down her small face. Five minutes… [Read More]
The Ride Home
I sit on the bench outside of my daughter’s nursery school classroom, patiently waiting for dismissal. The other moms and I make small talk and I check my iPhone. When the door opens, my daughter comes bolting out of the classroom with an enormous smile on her face. She is flushed from being outside in… [Read More]
This is Good
I beg my pajama-wearing daughter to get dressed. We have twenty minutes to get to our playdate and she has not had breakfast yet. I open up her closet and tell her to just pick something to wear. After much debate, she grabs a pink and gray dress off the hanger. I try to help… [Read More]
The Sparkling Sea
“It’s so sparkly,” my daughter exclaims while pointing at the ocean through the open blinds of her room. I nod while peering out the window. She is right – the reflection of the morning sun creates a sparkle effect on the top layer of the water. It is stunning and contrasts against the deep blue… [Read More]
Diving In
“I am scared Mommy,” my daughter whispers. She wraps her wet arms around my leg and soaks the fabric of my bathing suit cover up. We are at my friend’s country club with a few other moms and their kids. After an hour in the shallow, inviting kiddie pool, our group has moved over to… [Read More]
The Yiddish Word Helps Me Be a Loving Parent
There is something powerful about the way that a single word can bring up so many memories. I delve into this topic in an essay published on Kveller last week about a comforting word that my family has used for generations. Click here to read the whole essay. An excerpt is posted below. My… [Read More]
What do you want to be when you grow up?
I started keeping a journal as soon as I learned how to write. I wrote on whatever I could find, like loose pieces of paper, pink diaries with heart-shaped locks and spiral notebooks. My wild imagination as a child resulted in the writings of my early years being full of mystical realism: half truth and… [Read More]
The Weight of Her
We are all weighed down: by people, our histories and our troubles. As much as I live and breathe my daughter, she weighs me down, literally and figuratively. In this piece published on Mamalode, I write about the weight of her and how it comforts me. My essay, “The Weight of Her” is posted below: … [Read More]
The Morning of Imperfect Butterflies
The rhythm of the rain on the roof made a pitter-patter sound and the windows were foggy from the moisture when I woke up. We had a quiet morning planned, just me and my daughter. I secretly felt a bit relieved, that I wasn’t going to spend the day slathering sunscreen on my daughter and putting her hat back on… [Read More]
When coming in last place feels like first
My two-year-old daughter loves to run. She bolts ahead of me in the worst places, like grocery stores and parking lots. “Run, run, run!” she calls to her little legs, willing them to go faster. When I take her out in the running stroller she always cheers me on. “Go Mommy run,” she yells to… [Read More]