The last two months have flown by. My time was devoured by homeschooling, freelance projects, a month-long bout of walking pneumonia (b’bye, November!) and continued work on the anthology I’m editing, Advice to My Thirteen-Year-Old Self. It’s this latter item I’m going to share with you today. First, become familiar with this button, as it will show up again later in the post:
Photo of ‘Cacao Fruit’ by Anevay Darlington
The longest love affair of my life has been with chocolate. Other loves have come and gone, but chocolate, proving he’s never jealous of the attentions I have given to others, has swooped in to comfort me during times of heartache. Continue reading
I said “NO” to working yet another evening, and “YES” to taking my kid for a night on the town.
It’s been awhile since I last posted. I went from posting nearly every day, to twice a week, then once a week, and now, well……………. Radio silence……. Flatline…………
Not the best way to keep a healthy relationship going with my readers, I realize. Continue reading
Anevay teaching music theory at Still Waters
My 12-year-old daughter, Anevay, loves playing the cello. Not only does she practice at home, but she chomps at the bit for her weekly instruction at Turtle Bay Music School, and, while carting around her instrument around New York City, will, when prompted, occasionally play for strangers. Continue reading
Not even 100 years ago, the neighborhood of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, was known for its shipyards and sugar processing plants built along the East River. Ten years ago, the neighborhood was better known for its art and music scenes, roof-top concerts and underground dance parties. Since the rezoning of the North Side and Greenpoint neighborhoods in 2005, many of the area’s artists and musicians have been priced out and a wealthier, less diverse demographic has moved in. Continue reading
Question: would you ask someone working in an office or attending a public school to hang out, watch your kid or feed your cat during a work day? I’m guessing not. So why, then, would you ask a freelancing, homeschooling mom to do the same? Continue reading
My daughter, Anevay, goofing around with friends in Brooklyn
I live for two things: my kid; and those rare times when lightning strikes and I’m inspired to work on a project bigger than myself, to connect with people in real ways. The conception of this blog was one of those moments. Last Monday, not yet out of bed, a new idea struck me silly… (Can you hear the crackle of lightning?)
THE IDEA: To edit a book called Advice to My Thirteen-Year-Old Self that will consist of letters of advice written by 50 women to their 13-year-old selves. Continue reading
Recently, I wrote a very personal guest post on the travel blog, 1 Dad, 1 Kid, 1 Crazy Adventure about a rarely discussed (and often misdiagnosed) form of depression I live with called Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD). This disorder has affected my relationships, my mood, my well-being, even my travels. The post begins:
It happens in a flash. One moment, I’m project-driven, loving, almost manic in how many amazing things I can get done in a day. I volunteer my time at a local group for children, cook with my kid, plan travels and race through the streets of New York. I’m imbued with a love for everyone I meet and a passion for every new place I visit. I am Super Mom and writer extraordinaire. I take my kid on adventures around the world and live life to the fullest. You can almost SEE the light shooting from my eyes. I’m on fire. And it’s beautiful… I’m beautiful.
Then, every month, like clockwork, the switch is thrown. It begins in my blood—I feel it race through my veins, my heart skips a beat, and I need to stop whatever I’m doing to close my eyes and rub my temples. By the time I open my eyes again, I’m changed. I look into the mirror and see someone vile, wicked and ugly. Terrible thoughts cloud my judgment. It might be sunny outside, but darkness descends. It’s bad enough in the comforts of my home back in Brooklyn, but at times when I’ve been on the road with nothing to ground me to my routine, it has felt catastrophic.
This folks, is premenstrual dysphoric disorder, otherwise known as PMDD. It transforms women living with it into two people—like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde—only without, you know, the murders.
See that lovely, secluded, romantic vacation home along the Delaware River? Well, I won’t be writing about how great it was, because instead, I need to tell you about a meeting with a bee who gave me a rather serious allergic reaction… Note to self: never, ever again travel without an Epi-pen…
My weekend along the Delaware River had started out beautifully. A friend and I had rented a secluded house along a calm bend, and filled our time with saunas, walks and meals of oysters and wine. After one such meal, we made a roaring fire, sat on the couch in the darkness that was illuminated only by the crackling logs, and chatted and laughed the evening away. This post should be a destination piece, filled with notes about where we stayed, how we got there, and useful tips on how to arrange such a trip…
Instead, something happened that took my lovely weekend and turned it into a nightmare. Continue reading
