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As a mom of three teens facing a divorce, I thought I couldn’t keep up with my daughter’s demanding tennis schedule. But she rose to the occasion and took control. When my kids were young, I signed myself up for a tennis clinic as a way to force myself to spend some time with adults (and take the pacifiers out of my bra) for just one hour a week. When my childcare got messed up on the first day, my then 6-year-old daughter came with me. She wasn’t allowed to watch me unsupervised, so I swiftly put her in the tot-tennis class—the hell if I was going to miss my clinic! With a borrowed racket, my daughter waltzed onto the court in her (filthy) mermaid skirt. Later, at dinner, she announced she wanted to learn how to play tennis…and win. Frankly, I thought she meant it the way I wanted to…
Whatever kind of mom you are—and whatever kind you had—we see you, and we’re celebrating. This is one of 11 essays in this series. She was the mom…
Springtime is not just for decluttering the house. What if we could do the same thing internally, and go at the inner closet that holds everything we don’t…