I was not the good daughter my mother wanted.

So I invented her, created her, and breathed life into her like a small god. 

Susan was my imaginary sister.  I created her not because I was a lonely child, born too late for my brothers to take any interest other… Read full post »

My husband asks if I've seen the new Cheerios commercial. He mentions it to me because it is so unusual. He knows I will like it.

It's an interracial family. A white mom, a black dad, and a biracial daughter.  

It looks like my family, sort of. The daughter in… Read full post »

When I was eighteen I applied for my birth certificate. A little yellow piece of paper arrived from New York State saying I had been born. The date was wrong, and when I asked my mother about it, she said she remembered me being born on the 26th, not the 25th,… Read full post »

It's Taco Tuesday at our house. We laugh at ourselves for inventing these goofy rituals. Ordinary rituals. I'm thinking there are plenty of families with a Taco Tuesday night. Or a Spaghetti Wednesday night. It's something families just do. 

In our house, it's just the two of us.

When our… Read full post »

Apparently, today is "Sibling Day." I only know this because of the posts on Facebook.  I have siblings.  

I am on top of the refrigerator. Crying. I am four years old, and my mother has left my brother in charge.  My mother chooses him over Mrs. Walsh to watch me… Read full post »

I have a love/hate relationship with deer. Since watching Bambi as a child, and then again later as a mother, (fast forwarding the scene where Bambi's mom gets killed so as not to traumatize my own child for years) I have loved deer. They are beautiful, gentle animals.  When I walk in… Read full post »

Sunday morning. Coffee is made, yoga is done, Facebook is checked, I can't put it off any longer. 

I nonchalantly pick up the lottery ticket from the table.

There are a few dishes in the sink I need to take care of first.

Every Sunday I do this. The dance… Read full post »

This morning I heard the verdict in the Steubenville, Ohio rape case. 

Guilty. 

The young men are juveniles, so they could be incarcerated until they are twenty-one. I hope beyond hope, that things change for our daughters and our sons...

When my daughter went off to college three and a hal… Read full post »

I hop up on the the #96 bus, put my dollar plus eighty cents in the slot, and find my seat. Miss. The bus driver is motioning for me to come back.

Miss. He motions again. He lowers his voice to a whisper.

I don't want to be all in your… Read full post »

They come into the classroom like gangbusters. Afterschool yoga starts at 3:30, but they have only been untethered for fifteen minutes. It takes a while for them to settle into calm. I remind them to take off their shoes at the door and come in quietly. 

Mrs. H! I gave a… Read full post »

Emetophobia is the proper name for what I have.

It is the unreasonable, irrational, and intense fear of vomiting. This fear includes watching someone else vomit, or feeling afraid someone might vomit. It doesn't get the attention other phobias do.  The fear of heights or fear of dogs are fairly… Read full post »

When my daughter was little, she chose Disney princess Valentines from the neighborhood CVS for all her classmates. She signed each one with the backward "J" that didn't face the right direction until the middle of first grade. I waited patiently at the check-out as she looked  over the selectio… Read full post »

I can give you $40, the man behind the jewelry store counter tells me.

 It's so small, he says.  He gives a slight shrug to his shoulders. Like an apology.

I wrote about my mother's wedding band several years ago. She never intended for me to have it. It ended up with… Read full post »

When my daughter went off to college three and a half years ago, I knew there would be things out of my control. I remember college too.

And because I knew there would be things out of my control, I gave advice.  Alcohol lowers your inhibitions. Alcohol clouds your judgement. Alcohol… Read full post »

Teaching yoga to kids is different than teaching adults. I rarely correct their poses, and there is often barking in downward dog and mooing in cow pose. I gently remind them more breathing, less talking, but they're kids. 

I explore different methods, and invent some of  my own. I hav… Read full post »

We are getting ready for our Tuesday afternoon yoga class. The kids are wound up, more than usual at four in the afternoon. Our school is a polling place, and there are stairways blocked off, signs saying Closed to General Public. 

We are on the third floor, away from the voters,… Read full post »

October. 

The last gasp of gorgeous before the cold and dark settles into my bones. Soon I will be perpetually cold. I will want to go inside before the sun sets. I will feel a chill as the long, dark tunnel towards winter approaches. Like a small child, I will want… Read full post »

There are dozens and dozens of Beanie Babies piled up in the corner of my daughter's bedroom. She tells me to add them to the yard sale I've been putting off for months. One day I will haul all the odd, no longer useful pieces of our lives down to the… Read full post »

Come sit on my bed with me, Mom. 

One of my favorite invitations. She says it often, although usually we are piled on top of my bed when she's home. We watch bad televison and talk through most of it.  I ask her how I'm supposed to get over to the… Read full post »

The New Year is here. I envy the families gathering together with heavenly smells coming from their kitchens. Brisket, matzo ball soup, potato kugel, tzimmes. I envy the prayers they know by heart.

I am Jewish by birth, but besides the food, I had no Jewish upbringing. I became the Wandering… Read full post »

My mother is standing at the kitchen counter chopping onions. I've just finished my new favorite book, "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn." I am channelling my new favorite character, Francie.

Mama, am I pretty? My mother stops her chopping to meet my moony gaze. I am, after all, Francie from Brooklyn. S/… Read full post »

Marilyn traveled from Asheville, North Carolina to make a statement. She made that statement with her hand-lettered sign, her enormous pink sunglasses, and her bare breasts.

She is hard to miss. I catch a glimpse of her out the corner of my eye as I sit on the park bench across… Read full post »

The Balloon Lady. That's what my mother called her. She sat on one of my mother's elegant end tables. She looked like a stranger in a strange land. Out of place in my mother's tastefully put together house. My mother seemed pleased when people asked which decorator she used. Oh, I… Read full post »

This morning I held myself back from hugging the doctor after the biopsy.  She pronounced the lumps on my neck, not malignant.

I asked if she was sure. She said there was no doubt. Her waist-length hair and Birkenstock shoes made her look approachable, like someone who might not mind being… Read full post »

While teaching my 4 0'clock Family Yoga class last week, I kept apologizing for my voice. It cracked, it was hoarse, my guided meditation must have sounded awful. I turned up the music and let them drift into Savasana without too much of my throat clearing interfering with their peacefulness.

The… Read full post »