Articles

It would be easy to get lost in the details and outrage of how the super-wealthy gamed the college admissions system. But that would mean missing a powerful opportunity to use this moment in America to guide us to higher ground. Doing so starts by addressing the cultural message that gave birth to the scandal […]

What do you do when the angst-ridden, lovesick teenager inside you refuses to grow up?

What seemed like the end of an adventure was actually a new beginning.

5 Things Every Parent Needs To Know About Senior Year

I am 12 and my great aunt, Etty, is taking me to lunch. Etty is in her 60s, but to me, she’s about 100. She leans over the table, raises her bright-red polished fingernail at me. ‘Let me tell you some thing, Honey. We only come this way once. But if you do it right, once is enough.’ This is good news. This is bad news.

I love my dog, but I will not dress him up. I will not buy him an elevated water bowl or a doggie sofa. The fact that I live in Marin County, Calif., land of certified dog massage therapy, cashmere canine wardrobes and fake service-dog vests, only strengthens my resolve to stay normal.

Mother’s Day is here, and once again, I fall short. No cards in the mail. No calendars ordered from Shutterfly that feature carefully chosen photos of the grandchildren. No gifts en route. Just me, my guilty inaction, and a single thought that haunts me every year: one day, the jig’ll be up. My mom will be gone.

Years ago, my husband introduced our kids to the concept of watching a few select movies over and over and over again. Having been raised at the altar of productivity, I saw this activity as a colossal waste of time, bordering on sinful.

Parents, you’re up. You’ve got before you one of the most powerful teachable moments ever. And even if you think your teen would rather skin themselves alive than have this conversation with you, just know that you are singularly qualified to help them grieve, reframe and move forward.

Last week, I stepped into a parked, red Sienna mini-van with my friend Karen, to see if we were breaking up. Karen and I had been close friends for years, made all the cozier by the fact that our same aged-boys were also friends. That is, until a few months ago when, powered by their moody adolescence, the boys started fighting.