When I was a new mom, I adored BabyGap. The whole concept was brilliant: Dress your babies in clothes that you would wear, only smaller. The simple fact that these clothes were so small made them cute.
When my son was a baby, I dressed him in BabyGap argyle socks and BabyGap soft knit winter hats — the ones with the earflaps on them. He also wore BabyGap khaki pants that looked just like the ones my husband wore, only the baby ones had snaps down the legs to make diaper changes easier. Read full article here.
I am a planner. I like to write my plans down in my paper calendar, and I derive great pleasure in looking ahead at the calendar to see what’s on the horizon. This past summer, in a massive purge of old boxes in my basement, I found a slew of calendars from my past. I laughed out loud at my younger self, perusing through my high school wall calendar, which included such events as History test, school dance and sleepover at friend’s house.
Those calendars almost always included some sort of colorful count down to the next big thing—the end of the school year, the first day of camp, a graduation, the start of a new school. I seemed to always be waiting on what came next. I remember telling myself that my life, my real life, would start whenever that next thing happened. Read full article here.
On the Sunday evening after our son’s bar mitzvah, the bar mitzvah boy turned to me over brunch leftovers served as dinner and very honestly and curiously asked me, “Mom, how come you cried at my bar mitzvah?” Read full article here