Category Archives: Relationships

For My Mom on Her Birthday

Today is my mom’s birthday. I would post how old she is, but I’m not sure if that sort of thing is acceptable, even on one’s own blog, so I’ll just say that yesterday when Scarlett was asked that question, she responded “49.” Let’s go with that. Happy 49th birthday, Mom!

I was scrolling through old blog posts I’ve written about my mother: her visits to see me in New York, back when I was childless and she was a professional grandchild advocate (“I don’t even care if you get married!”); our trip to Florida when my parents met Rob’s parents for the first time and my mom and his stepdad bonded over light beer with ice in it and a mutual inability to stop themselves from overdosing on mixed nuts; our wedding weekend in New York (because that thing about her not caring if we got married was nonsense); her time in San Francisco right after Scarlett was born, when she saved my sanity by going everywhere with me and not judging me when I cried during the opening credits to the TV show Parenthood, then in its very first season, just like I was.

But that’s just the stuff I wrote about. When I was younger, my mom was a source of great pride to me. She was a teacher, she did Jazzercise, she had a ton of friends. She wore little short shorts and bandanas, and in the summers she was as brown as a leaf, and smelled like tanning oil. She had 4 sisters, 3 brothers, and parents who lived a mile from us, and our house was always overflowing with family. Read More>

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How to Talk

Here is what sometimes happens when I ask Scarlett to choose a book to read. She goes into her room, and returns with my 368-page paperback copy of How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk. “This.”

“Why was that in your room?” I ask.

She shrugs. “It’s mine.”

Then she climbs into my lap and flips pages until we get to the illustrations of parents saying the “wrong” and “right” things to their children. Scarlett particularly enjoys the sections where a parent is nagging a kid about something, like leaving a door open or not feeding the dog. I do the nagging, and then she reads the recommended approach in a singsong voice. “Johnny, the dog.”

I bought the book when she was two, and it had nothing to do with my ALS. I wanted to make sure that as she grew, we continued to have a relationship that was open and candid. I wanted to answer her questions in ways that would encourage her to keep asking them (although the book advises responding to many questions with the line, “What do you think?” and when I try that, Scarlett becomes apoplectic.) Read More>

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Bad Behavior

Rob and I had an interesting interaction on Friday morning. It was a total ALS moment, where the frustration overtakes everything else and you realize that what is happening is real, and that you’re out there, traveling with no road map. It’s the definition of ALS: Good luck, keep driving.

Rob had returned from a trip to New York the night before. Our time without him had gone fine, thanks to help from my sister and my two assistants. On Friday morning, we were trying to get back into our routine. I couldn’t help but think about how simple it must have been for Rob that week. Getting himself—and only himself—ready to walk out the door. The luxury.

Some time ago, I decided to wear what is basically a uniform of maxi dresses, and I had recently purchased some new ones. So that morning, we tried on a new dress. Yep, I use the word “we” with zero irony here. It’s a group effort. Rob pulled the dress over my head. He adjusted the straps, kicked my footrest up and lifted me to allow the billowing material to fall towards the floor. “What do you think?” he asked. Read More>

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