What I want, now.

Last year, right around this very time, I published a post called, What I Want,

which was both a Holiday Wish List and a nod to The Spice Girls.

Last November, I wrote,

“There are so many meaningful things that I want this holiday season, and none of them can be held in my hands. I want for my family and loved ones to be happy, healthy and safe. I want justice for anyone who deserves it. I want a more peaceful year ahead. I want to affect real change in the world.

But, alas, these things are either supremely difficult or all together out of my control.”

At that time, I did not think that things could get much worse in terms of the state of our union (read: President).

I was wrong. Not only have we been systematically smacked in the face by many (all?) branches of our government, but there have been so many tragedies; too many tragedies to name.

I am not limiting this list in any way, but certain names — people and places and things — come to mind, first.

Parkland. Pittsburgh. California. Jemel Roberson. Dr. Ford. Fire.

Since I last made a list o’ wishes, I have sat in front of my television set (or in my car, or on the bathroom floor) crying, more times than I can count.

I want to be clear about this. I have perspective. It is hard for me to post a list of shiny, fun things in a shiny, fun post when people I know and love (and those I don’t) are suffering so greatly, right at this very moment.

And, at the same time, we must do what we always do when it comes time to celebrate the holidays, or to put one foot in front of the other. We must persist. I must do the same thing that I did after October 28, 2016 and then November 8, 2016, and February 14, 2018, and October 6, 2018 and all of those other unimaginably hard days.

Like I’ve always said, I have two hands. In one, I can hold all of the compassion and empathy and pain.

I can wish, with all of my might, that the wildfires will stop and that my friends will be able to breathe clean air, once again. I can wish for peace. And I do. 

But, today, in the other, I can hold those wishes for things that are tangible. Luxurious. Decadent, even.

What I want, now.


I have to say, last year was pretty amazing. My husband (who I did not know was such a religious reader of this site!) got me so many of the items on my list, it was pretty remarkable. Even my mom chimed in, treating me to the parka I had asked for. I returned it, though, as I loved it, but I did not love it enough, I thought, to justify its cost.

From my list last year Kenny got me the Truffle Salt, the Brett Dennen album, and the Naked Cashmere pants.

My mom, along with the jacket, got me a pair of Naked Cashmere slippers (those I kept!) and the West Elm Velvet Duvet for my room at her home. I never got the Lingua Franca sweater, and I am pretty bummed about this, as I asked for it before Lingua Franca was such a thing. I still LOVE the sweaters, but they have become so trendy that I am not including a Lingua Franca redemption song on this list. I am a rebel like that. (I still love “All the Feels” though!)

I also did not get Christmas. I will never stop believing.

I am not just sharing this with you as an exercise in superficiality or #bloglife. I am hoping that you will, perhaps, fancy some of these, too, and so this will feel decidedly less selfish! Or, perhaps, you will be inspired to make your own lists. To treat yourselves. To think outside the box (or to own the things that are in the box that will make you happy).

Now, without further ado, here is my 2018 Holiday Wish List

aka What I want, now.

Jonathan Adler Vice Canister

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I’ll say it, again. I covet the “Dope” canister. As I wrote last year,

“So, this is kind of funny. I love me some Jonathan Adler and I am the proud owner of 3 of his Vice Canisters, but, alas, the “Dope” canister has eluded me. I would love to add this to my collection. And, in searching for the image for this post, I typed in “Jonathan Adler Dope Canister” and the 6th google hit was MY POST from my days of blogging at 511 Ever After (the transformation of my old house into a home…that we then sold). The funniest part? I ended that post with these words:

“and I will never stop wanting this”

I know myself well!”

Cough * I will never stop wanting this *

(Note: If you google said canister, my old post on my old website is one of the top hits. UGH!)

 All the Gilligan & O’Malley Sleep and Loungewear

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This summer I bought a few sets of legit pajamas from this brand (on Target.com) and they’re heavenly.

Light, soft, old-school.

Quite serendipitously, I was given the nightshirt pictured above last month when I was a bridesmaid in my oldest-friend-in-the-world’s beautiful wedding. She knows how important it is to be able to wear “yummy things” and these are THE YUMMIEST. Since we were given this bridesmaids’ gift, the other girls have been equally obsessed, and our fondness has caught on to other friends. Now, we all have this black nightshirt, and rumor has it that I’ll be wearing one in a different color by the end of this week ;-)

It comes in a few other colors, as well, and I would gladly have them all. I also would also gladly wear this black one with thick, black tights, booties and jewelry and make it my holiday outfit this year, but, I have to figure out where that would fall on the line between “edgy creative” and “socially unacceptable.”

If I HAD to pick a few more of these yummy things, I would not mind lounging (or partying, as it were) in this or this


(I already bought the sweetest short sleeve/shorts PJ set with buttons and a little collar. #obsessed.)

Mignonne Gavigan Lux Feather Mini Madeline Earrings

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Do you remember last year’s post in which I spoke of my dear friend who should really have a gift-buying concierge service? She is still at it! On a weekly (daily?) basis she sends me the most fabulous gifts, each so perfect for me (Faux fur dog clothing! Shiny, metallic, vintage! Hemingway!) and I smile every time I receive one of her messages. These earrings are her finds, and I love them because they are edgy and feathery and cool and different and, as always, me. 

Kitchen Gear!

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I do not know if this makes me super boring, super grown-up, or just super sensible, as I have been making a real effort to cook well and often for my family. Cooking for my family makes me feel virtuous, and it is also a very important thing for me, in general.

And, for these reasons, I could really use (and, honestly, really want!) some new kitchen gear.

High on my list? A new set of fry pans.

Equally high? Glass Storage Container Set. Who am I!?

I would also be very happy with some sort of Baking Set because, apparently, this is who I am, now.

(Oh, and I would also love a vacuum sealer of some sort, as I have some major food-spoiling-paranoia and also because I would love to be able to seal up wine bottles and because they sound fun!)

More Naked Cashmere Goodies

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You could go to the Naked Cashmere website, blindfold yourself, and touch your computer screen, and I would LOVE anything on which your finger could possibly land. But, if we are getting specific here, I would love this Black Friday Setthis beanie (in Clay)this cropped sweater (toffee, please!), and the list goes on and on.

An Overnight Bag

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The last time I went away for the night — a Saturday – Sunday girls’ trip with my two best friends to the Jersey Shore (off-season! Atlantic City! Wheel of Fortune Slot Machine for the first time!!)  – I scrambled to find something in which to throw my 18 absolutelynecessaryoutfits. What I landed on was my son’s monogrammed mini duffel from Pottery Barn Kids. Basically, I could use something a little more functional and slightly less “five-year-old-boy.”

Some bags that I dig include this cool camo duffel (on sale) from Nordstrom, the “Traveling Party” getaway duffel bag, this XL leather bag that is said to be for a ” ‘gram-able vacay” (I think it is cool, but more for you than for me), but clearly I would like, more than anything else, these PBTeen bags by Emily and Meritt in both the duffle for overnights and either the checked or carry-on spinner suitcase.

(If anyone really wants to splurge, I think that Belle and I would be absolutely darling with this set AND it would allow us both to graduate from PBKids to PBteen).

A Massage!

Image result for massage

(image via)

I love massages as much as (if not more than) most things on this earth.

I like all types of massages (I have enjoyed all of the massages I have had, except for two: the time the man at the fancy Philly spa massaged me with his chin and the time in Barcelona when the man massaged my boobs.)

I like massages in a car,

I like massages near or far,

 I like massages on a boat,

I like massages with a baby goat.

I like massages, yes I do,

there how I’d like to spend an hour (or preferably two)!

Initial Earrings

Mini Diamond Initial Stud Earrings


Despite the fact that I have seven combined holes in my ears, I rarely change my earrings. I wear a classic pair of studs and, the tiny, pink heart that I got with Belle when she got her ears pierced. Remember that story?! She was so nervous, and so after several failed attempts, she finally managed to muster the courage after I showed her, on my self, just how easy it was. With the pink, shiny heart earring she chose for my upper-ish right ear. Is it stylish? Not in the conventional way, but I would not trade it.

All that said, I do love adding fun, unexpected touches to my ear game, and I would really like some cool initial earrings. Maybe one day I will wear “R F S” in my left ear while keeping my more conservative stud in my right. Maybe I will wear a B in each year for Belle and Beau (ehem, Becca). I would be tempted to wear “FOX” but that might come off wrong. Or, oh so right! Ooh, imagine “FOX” in one ear and a star stud in the other! #partylikeafoxstarr

If I could shoot for the moon, I would love some initials like these (yellow gold, I think), but I am going to be a bit more realistic. These are very cool, and I like how they’re mixed and matched.

These are great, and the price is right.

Oh, and did I mention I might want some more piercings? Sorry, mom.

Fender Limited Edition Stratocaster Electric Guitar

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 This would be considered a very, very big gift. During the three hours we spent in Guitar Center (during a horrible thunderstorm over the summer), I played so many guitars. This one was my favorite. It is so nice, but it is also not THE fanciest, and although my awesome salesman, Nick, chose this color for me, I worry that it is a bit too precious.

I am a singer, not a guitar player, except I do now play the guitar, and I plan on playing a lot more, so I do not want to be a girl guitarist. I just want to be a guitarist (albeit a very new one without much confidence).

I have an acoustic guitar and I would love, some day, to have an electric. And while this Sea Foam one does strike me as a bit “cute” it is also a bit badass, and if someone ever described me as “a bit cute and a bit badass” I would take it, so I would also take this. Perhaps for my birthday in April, right after Book 2 manuscript is due? Perhaps.


In my life, I have so much. I have a loving family, wonderful friends, a house I love, a general sense of safety, insurance, security, care…

that others do not have any of these things is not lost on me. So, I say again, if I could really wish for something this holiday season it would not be anything I could hold in my hands.

I am so thankful, this year more than ever, for the people in my life, for my health, and for my survival. It was Thanksgiving Day five years ago that people started to notice that something was terrible wrong with me. I do not think I will ever look at the holiday, or any, the same way, ever again.

Thank you for being a part of my tribe. I am so grateful that you allow me to share, journal, vent, chronicle, and make mistakes, all on here. I appreciate you.

To feathered earrings, copper pans, and Peace on Earth –



“I need to access your heart.”

“Does that stethoscope really work?” he asked, his blue, marble-like eyes widening.

“Of course! I am a real doctor,” I said, straightening the lab coat I had gotten made for his Halloween birthday party.

I’d had it embroidered with “Meredith Grey M.D. F.A.C.S.” to wear along with my scrubs, messy bun, Grey + Sloan Memorial Hospital ID badge, and converse sneakers.

He looked so adorable in the “Lothar Classic Muscle Warcraft” costume that I had surprised him with the night before. I don’t know what or who “Lothar Classic Muscle Warcraft” people are, so I just called him a badass knight, and he totally embraced it.

He was four days short of five years, and I could scarcely believe it.

“Can you check my heart?” he asked, fake muscles bulging from under his faux armor.

“Of course I can. My speciality is in general surgery, but I’ve done plenty of cardio.”

I put the ear tips inside of my ears and tried to place the round end of stethoscope on his chest, but I hit padding. I tried to go from underneath, but realized that the costume was all one piece, and so that wouldn’t be possible. I tried to reach down the top of his suit, fishing the bell of the stethoscope under the layers of polyester, but I just could not reach.

“I need to access your heart.”

And then it hit me. I had just said it all.


My love story with Beau is not the traditional one.

I have written a lot about the guilt I feel surrounding his early days (/years).

The fact that postpartum depression robbed us of so much togetherness during his time as a baby. That we loved each other, but were not connected in that fierce, enchanted way that one expects to connect with her newborn.

Over the years I have written countless posts about our bond, as it has it has blossomed and grown contemporaneously as it has blossomed and grown on the pages of this site. In the book. Everywhere.

It has been a slow courtship at times, and mad love, always.

Like him, it can be very subtle, yet profound. It can be quiet and big at the same time.

Our love is intense and warm.

We have tender moments, and dance parties, and epic battles of wills.

I love Beau deeply, and not just because I have to; not because I should. 

I love him because he is funny and smart and creative. I love his imagination and empathy and eye for detail. I love his stubborn streak, naughtiness, and his heart, so big that I cannot believe it can be contained in that small (albeit extremely tall) body.

I appreciate the love we share not in spite of our tumultuous beginning, but because of it.

Once my severe postpartum depression abated and I started to see light and color, again, I wanted him to want me in the way that I wanted him. And yet, for a long time (and I mean years), he chose me last. He loved me, but not as much as he loved his daddy, or his Bubbie or, most of all, his big sister. When he had a boo-boo that needed kissing, he sought out another’s lips. When a group of us walked through the door to greet him, he jumped into another’s arms.

When no one else was available he would cuddle into me and let me love on him, but I always felt as though I was some sort of consolation prize.

“I need to access your heart.”

I would say it silently, to myself, when watching my son choose someone else’s embrace over mine over and over and over, again.

Like Meredith Grey, I would look into his eyes, and I would say, “Pick me. Choose me. Love me.”

But there was always an Addison. A roadblock. Just like with every great love story, I suppose.

A couple of years ago, things began to shift. Our love story veered in a new direction. I went from a supporting character to a series regular. And while Belle (his “Boppy Girl”) will always be his leading lady, he allowed me to be a star; his star. It was me that he started to come to for comfort.

It was my hand that he’d reach to hold; my body that he’d curl up to in his slumber after a nightmare; my kisses that would soothe him; my nook in which he fit perfectly.


On the day of his fifth birthday party, I could not figure out how to listen to his heart with my old stethoscope, but I most certainly had access to his heart. I was the one who carried the cake out to him, surprising him with a icing-made-photo of his face, rimmed with Batman rings. I was the one who held his arm while he made his wish.

But, this is not about me.

Beau, you amaze me. You are clever and kind and good. You are tenacious and quirky and bright. Your face is so handsome that I have to kiss it every time I am in its proximity. Your chin — the first thing  noticed about your little face when you were brought over to me in the OR on October 24, 2013 — is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, with its perfect dimple.

I love the fact that you embrace your uniqueness; that you are proud to be the only one in our house who has red hair (that’s really strawberry blonde), with blue eyes (that really are spectacular), and who is a leftie. You always say, “I am special!” and I hope you never, ever forget it.

You are a wonderful human.. You the best brother in the world.  You are an extraordinary son.

And, today, you are five.

It is an honor to be able to access your heart.

I will never be able to thank you enough.

Happy Birthday, Beau Beau…

and many, many, many more

Beyond the Baby Blues

Happy Birthday, Book!

Today is the day!

After years of writing,

months of teasing,

weeks of sharing photos and videos of reviews, copies and clips…

today, “Beyond the Baby Blues: Anxiety and Depression During and After Pregnancy” is out!

I am so overwhelmed by this — we wrote a book!

If you do get a chance to read Beyond the Baby Blues, make sure to check out the acknowledgements, as there is a special little shout out to you. Yes, you.

If you want to get your hands on this book — my own story (which, by the way, is not a compilation of blog posts and goes way deeper into the dark abyss of what really happened), combined with actionable advice, clinical research, case studies and other women’s stories — I can help you.

If you want to order from the publisher, because you are fancy and proper, like that, here you go!

If you are an Amazon Prime member, click here (it will be shipped to in hardcover soon OR you can get it dropped onto your Kindle, today!)

If you already have a full online cart at Target, you can add this on. You know you were going to overspend, anyway.

If you are a purist, and like to buy from good old Barnes & Noble, get your nook on.

It is also on a lot of other websites, and, it is in other languages (and being sold in other currencies, so watch out!)

Check your local library: I know that it has already been ordered by many across the country, but if you want to read it and your library doesn’t have a copy, as them to get one. I have a friend who did just that and, lo and behold, they had two! Ask your favorite local bookstore. If they do not carry it now, they sure can.

If you want to celebrate, officially, with me, in the Philadelphia area, join me on January 31 for a

“Happy Hour for Happiness”

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And watch out, because I might be coming to a city near you. Stay tuned for updates.

Here is the truth:

I am writing all of this in a straightforward, matter-of-fact way, but this is huge for me. This was my dream and I have had the chance to realize it, and in such a meaningful way. I am happy, as I hope it helps others. I am nervous, as  hope it doesn’t suck. I am so touched by the positive response so far. I fear the negative comments and I have been trying to grow a thicker skin in anticipation of this (despite all of the dry brushing I do).

No matter what, I am proud.

Because I have lived the happy. I have lived the hard. Now, I am living the hopeful. The hopeful combines both.

It has been a journey and not one that has been easy or that has gone in a straight line.

But it has all been worth it.

Happy Birthday, Beyond the Baby Blues.

Kenny made me a wife. Belle and Beau made me a mommy. You have made me a blogger.

And, now, this has made me an author.

With so much love, tons of feathers and a little sparkle–



Six, Ever After.

I sat down to write this message and the deluge started from my eyes before my fingers could touch the keyboard.

I placed my hands on my heart.

I don’t know how to describe this feeling.

Intense love mixed with incredulity mixed with wistfulness…

and something else. But when you love someone this much, there isn’t always a word.

There are no words. But I will try.


Sweet, darling girl: today you are six years old. We have been counting down the days for weeks now, but what you do not know is that I have been celebrating you every single day since I found out that you were a poppy seed inside of me.

Five and a half years ago  I wrote this post for your half birthday; you were six months old. Six months. And today, you are six years old. In your half birthday post, I wrote:

Happy, Happy, Happy 1/2 Birthday to my favorite Princess. You are more precious to me than you will ever, ever know, sweet dear. Mommy loves you. Mommy will always love you.
and ever after.

When I typed those words, I knew in my heart and in my soul and in my bones that they would be true, but never could I have imagined the joy and life you have brought to me and to our lives.

I want to tell you (and the world) a story that you told me recently. You told me that when you were up in the sky, before you were born, you were not in the clouds but on a rainbow.

You told me that when I was in Hawaii (the month before you were conceived) and saw a double rainbow arching across the whole cerulean sky

that it was actually you on your rainbow, spotting me, and choosing me as yours.

Thank you so much for choosing me.

You did not just make me a mother, but you made me me.

You are truly the sweetest person I know. In fact, you just looked over at me, tears streaming down my face, and checked in, making sure that I was “crying happy”.

When I am sad, you hold me and kiss me and we do our ritual of you giving me your extra love.

When I ask questions of the universe, you, somehow, have the most profound of answers.

When I look at your face, I see my lifelong dream incarnate. Yes, you are the daughter–the person–of my dreams.

You are kind, lovely, brilliant, wise, funny, adorable, creative, talented and absolutely beautiful.

You are the one person on whom I can always count to sing “One Day More” with me, and the one person who will always give me an extra kiss goodnight.

You are special and you are spectacular.

And, sweetheart, you can finally say that you are SIX! (Six, ever after.)

I do not know what this year will bring, but I can promise you one thing–

the same thing that I promised you when you were six months old and every day every since.

You are more precious to me than you will ever, ever know, sweet dear. Mommy loves you. Mommy will always love you.
and ever after.

Happy Birthday, my beauty. May you continue to shine, may you continue to find happiness in things big and small and may you continue to feel more love than you know what to do with.

You deserve it.

You are everything.

Love you always,



On Your Birthday

Dear Husband,

On your birthday 10 years ago, we had just gotten engaged. You came into our first shared bedroom to find 25 wrapped gifts on our bed, to honor your 25th birthday.

On your birthday nine years ago we were preparing to get married. We took a trip to NYC to meet Twin halfway between Philadelphia and Boston, and to visit my my sister. We drank hot chocolate in the lobby of our fancy hotel and played connect four in a hipster bar, before I knew what a hipster bar even was. We walked through the Central Park zoo and played dress- up in FAO Schwartz.

On your birthday eight years ago we had just bought our first house. We had our Lola and took her for a winter weekend at the beach house. There, we played Scrabble, you opened the binder of love that I had made for you and we ran along the sand. On the day of your birthday, we ate crepes at Reading Terminal for breakfast. There was lots of cake.

1927823_798171525794_6547_n 1927823_798173551734_1858_nOn your birthday seven years ago I was pregnant with our daughter. I made 28 cards for your 28th birthday.


Thank you, Facebook, for reminding me that we had at least 4 cakes and Red Velvet Cake ice cream. And that is why I will not be posting any pictures of us from that birthday. You’re welcome. 17064_10100214070348194_4831223_nOn your birthday six years ago you were a daddy. Photos of cakes were replaced by albums of photos of our daughter.



On your birthday five years ago you entered into your next decade!

391022_10102099123416734_1699893464_nThe Dirty 30, as they say.

IMG_2415Oh. You think that a cake with M&Ms was all that we did to celebrate?


I surprised you with a Hawaiian themed birthday party. There, I wore a flower bra, we ate my dad’s amazing cooking, watched a video-montage of your life (“Live a life less ordinary, live a life extraordinary with me…”) and we danced in my parents’ basement, which I had previously converted into a “night club”. I had special hot sauce made as a party favor that said something like “Hot and Spicy, Just like Kenny!”

On your birthday four years ago…418293_10102241576374864_1923281684_n…I have no idea what we did. We had a real kid, and she dominated our lives, and photos. Your birthday no longer got two photo albums on Facebook. Mobile Uploads became a thing.

On your birthday three years ago we had just moved into our new house. After weeks of work and renovations, we spent our very first night in our new home on your 32nd birthday.


And, let it be said, you got even cuter with age! And it would be our last birthday as a family of 3 humans.

I posted this photo with this caption:

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On your birthday two years ago we had a night out without our TWO kids. I have no idea where we went, but apparently the drinks were a-flowin’ (see previous sentence). Once again, I must thank the old book of Face for jogging my memory. And for preserving our memories.

1016530_10105860132135114_1544346044_n 1512109_10105858112088304_1805029446_o

Screen Shot 2016-01-19 at 6.45.54 AMApparently, with two kids I had less time to wax poetic.

On your birthday last year we spent time together as a family. 10495066_10108140221552644_1655682883020582863_o

We had settled in as a family of four, though life had changed more dramatically than we could have ever predicted. We were no longer the same as individuals, nor as a unit; we had been put through the ringer, but we came out of it together.

11708029_10109133865098014_1594393376726032496_oLast year, on your 33rd birthday, I looked to you as my rock. You had stood by me through our toughest times, when others, likely, could not have. I had watched you grow from a round-faced young adult into a handsome, strong man. You awed me every day.

Today is your birthday, and you are not yet awake. You are in bed, in the dark of our room, as our daughter is asleep in her sleeping bag on our floor (she had a “terrible nightmare”). I am sitting with our son, waiting for you to wake up so that I can make you poached eggs with truffles and tell you that I love you.

Because Kenny, I love you very much.

On your birthday this year I can tell you that I appreciate you, cherish you, admire you and am more grateful to you than ever. In this past year we have shared some incredible experiences, having traveled together, seen concerts, eaten gourmet meals, had dance parties with friends and, most of the time, by ourselves. We have had highs and we have had lows, but we have always had each other.

Happy birthday.

10 years ago when I first introduced you to this book and knew that I wanted to have a family with you I made a promise to you, and it is one that still stands.

I’ll like you for always.

And today, and always,

I do.

March Forth, With Love.

The fourth of March has been an important day for me for many years. It is a happy day and it is a sad day.

First, happy. March 4th is my girl J’s birthday, and yesterday she celebrated the big 3-0.


I stayed up until midnight so I could make sure to wish her a “Happy Day” the moment that it became March 4th. That’s the very least I could do, as this girl deserves so much.

The most special part of J’s birthday, for me, was the outpouring of love that I got to see her receive. She did not just receive the perfunctory “HBD”; People took time to write long and heartfelt notes about what a good human being she is; How she is more giving and loving and positive and warm than anyone else in the world. I am her #1 fan.

Yesterday was also a sad day for my family. It was the 8 year anniversary of when we lost my beloved Uncle. My daughter is named for him, and my son is like a mini version of him; but we still miss him very much.

photo 1(10)

I was trying to think of how to honor him, yesterday.

My daughter had a late opening at school, so I had to juggle the baby’s nap and driving her in. I let them both get into my bed to snuggle up and at one point I had my son, his head on my shoulder, sleeping soundly on my left side and my daughter, cuddled up on to me, silently, on my right, and I thought, “This is it. This is how I honor him.”

When I picked her up from school at the end of the day, I looked behind me and saw this:

photo 2(8)We honor him with love.

On March 4th every year, I have the unique opportunity to mourn the past and celebrate the future.

But from now on, instead of highs and lows, I will just honor the day with love,

for that is what my J

and my Uncle

and our family members (those by blood and those by choice)


And nothing less.

Wonderful and Featherful

You guys. Seriously, you rock. You’ve made my birthday so wonderful and you’ve filled it with amazing treats, feathers, and, most of all, words. You’ve shared your words with me today and each note, each word has meant something to me. So thank you.
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And I’m covered in feathers,
from my top
photo 2-24To an incredibly special gift on my wrist from an incredibly special person,
photo 1-24
All the way to the tips of my fingers
photo 3-15With a lil’ party mani to boot.
So thank you. I love you. And I love life today.

Oh happy day.

Thank you, my sweet friends,
(online, offline, and everywhere in between…)
for making me feel this special.
(Which, by the way, is SO special!)
Today has been a lovely a day
and it’s only 1pm.
So thank you, thank you, thank you.
(And, by all means, keep it comin’!)
Love and Macaroons,
The Bday Gal.

If growing up means it would be

beneath my dignity to climb a tree

I’ll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up. Not me.
Tomorrow, I will be celebrating my birthday.
I’ll be getting old. Older.
So, let them (you!) eat cake, I say.
As long as it’s Kosher for Passover.
And I’m serious.
I’ll never grow up.
Not me. Not I. Not me. No Sir.