Greetings, dear readers!
I hope both of you have been well.
Kidding. I hope all three of you have been well.
It’s been awhile since I posted because, as I mentioned last spring, I’ve been focusing my writing efforts elsewhere.
But just like the free basket of chips and salsa beckons me to my local Mexican restaurant, so does the appeal of this blog. Where writing just for fun fills me up like those au gratis tortilla chips.
So good!
I’ve had two essays published by Business Insider in the last couple of months, both about parenting my older kids. I’m excited that I’m still finding space to write about my experiences as a mom, which is why I started this blog in the first place.
My 19-year-old daughter drove 500 miles for a concert
The first essay in August was about watching my 19-year-old daughter drive 500 miles rountrip on a Wednesday to see Noah Kahan in concert.
Like, 500 miles are you serious?
She was.
And I’m over here like, “NO WAY! Bad things can happen!” before I realized I can’t wrap her in bubble wrap and lock her in her room. She’s growing up—and I have to let her.
P.S. She and her friend drove to the concert, had a great time, and made it back just fine. I aged two years in one night, but it’s fine. Everything’s fine.
My adult son has lived with me since graduating from college, but now he’s moved out.
The latest essay came out last week about my son, 22, moving out months earlier than I expected. He’s getting married next month, which is amazing, but I thought he wouldn’t leave the nest until, oh, right about now.
But he went and got a new job and new apartment in June. How dare he deprive me of three-to-four additional months of talking to him about random stuff in the hallway and being able to simply hug him every day??
In other news, yes, he is getting married next month. How’d that happen? His fiance is lovely and I couldn’t be happier.
I’m not sure I’m allowed to write much about the event, as I’m trying to be mature and respectful of my son and his bride-to-be, but wish me luck convincing him it’s okay to share my dumb mother-of-the-groom dress shopping misadventure, that didn’t involve the couple at all, or the amount of products I’ve been buying as a 50-something living under the delusion that 1) I need to look better for the wedding, or 2) that anyone anywhere cares what I, the 50-something mother of the groom, look like at all.
I hope all my readers are doing well and I wish you happy reading, a beautiful fall, and everything pumpkin spice (if you like pumpkin spice.) Happy Fall, ya’ll!
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