Parenting

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Just, Yes.

My friend Tia did this braid. You can tell, because it's good.

I have always loved entertaining. More than that, I love being a hostess: making my house look pretty, thinking up cute serving ideas, refilling drinks before glasses are empty. Telling my guests to sit down, have fun, don't you dare touch those dishes, I've got it. I know it might sound odd, but I love it; I really do. It makes me feel good to create a space where where they can feel good. And since we've moved here, summertime has basically been all-entertaining, all the time, because, you know: pool. Which is great, right?! Parties! BBQs! All the festive things!!

Except I can't right now.

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The Kind Of Parent You’ve Got To Be Sometimes

I took the kids to Rockin' Jump after camp yesterday. Rockin' Jump, for those of you who aren't parents or don't live in the suburbs, is a massive trampoline park populated by oh god, so many small people, the vast majority of whom are physically launching themselves through the air at at any given moment. For safety's sake, there are also lots of uniformed attendants who will yell at them (and you) if they do anything wrong, and the list of "things you can do wrong in the trampoline park" includes "everything that children want to do a trampoline park."

I know. It sounds super fun.

Except my kids (obviously) love it, and so when they said they wanted to go, I was sort of surprised that camp hadn't tired them out...but I thought, what the hell. Because it's summer, and in the summer you can do things like take spur-of-the-moment trips to trampoline parks, and also because I have a little secret about Rockin' Jump:

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Five Things

Before we begin - on a lighter note - the leggings pictured here are Niyama Sol's "endless" leggings, and they're going to get their own post because if you are a yoga person or a leggings person or just a person, you need these.

Now.

A couple of weeks ago, after I published this post, I got a message from a reader telling me about her dad. Her dad, she wrote, had developed this interesting habit: He'd come up with five things that were virtually guaranteed to make him feel really, really good, and committed himself to doing at least one of those things each and every day of his life. (One of them is eating ice cream, so if it hits midnight and he hasn't done any of the other things that day, he will get himself out to a Thrifty and get a cone in his hand STAT, which makes him sort of a hero.)

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An Update, But Not Really

Before I launch back into writing about our (first) bathroom makeover (which is FINALLY finished, and oh my god that took forever) and the best ballet flats out there and, I don't know, chicken, or whatever...I figured I should probably address the elephant in the room.

I don't know if we're going to stay in this house. Or even in this city.

I don't know anything.

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The Ones Who Catch You

A few years ago - shortly before my daughter was born - a friend of mine told me that she had cancer.

When I say “a friend of mine,” I mean someone I cared about; someone I had special, beautiful memories with. Someone who I thought was smart, and interesting. Someone who’d just had a baby a couple of months earlier, making her diagnosis worse than the worst thing imaginable. 

But by then, we weren’t especially tied into each others’ lives. In the old days we’d mostly been casual, going-out-type friends, and in the years since we’d grown up and out of bars and parties and late nights in the company of dartboards, and we’d emailed only occasionally. When the dust settled it turned out we didn't really have much in common at all, and we lost touch. I didn’t even know what she did for a living, or her partner’s name.