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Welcome to my little corner of the ether. This is where you will find information about my books and musings on life and love in New York City. To stay in the loop about all things ADR...

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Toddler had been begging for a new dinosaur hat. Her tiger one from last winter has grown too small. Finally, we agreed to go to the "hat store" and fulfill her wish. This winter has been nutty and I figured this purchase was a win-win: She gets what she wants and stays warm in the process. Fine. Well, we went to the hat store and guess what? Unsurprisingly, the pickings were slim. And that great green dino hat? It had been sold.

Toddler was a bit sad, but thankfully I had spied a hat stand at our local flea market. I explained to my babe that we would walk there and see what they had. She was remarkably flexible about this. Off we went. We were thrilled to see that there were tons of animal hats at the flea market. Baby zeroed in on an adorable sheep hat. We didn't see a dino hat right away, but when we asked, we worked with the saleswoman (the one who made the hats!) to get creative and find something that could very well be a dino. And we did! I'm still not sure what creature it is, but it is green and has a dino-like mohawk and a little red tongue. Toddler is completely convinced it's a stegosaurus. Victory on all fronts, no?

Now, if you know me at all, you know that I wouldn't just write a post about purchasing new winter hats for my wee ones. Not that there is anything wrong with that. The truth is that when we came home with these new hats and the girls modeled them while scooting around our hardwood floors, my mind wandered as it tends to do. On this particular day, it wandered to...

Hats.

Yes, hats. Not animal hats, but metaphorical hats. Those proverbial hats we all wear as we go about our lives. I thought about all the hats I wear on any given day: Mother. Wife. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Writer. Blogger. Dreamer. Doubter. The list goes on and on. My existential closet? It's filled with hats.

And this is a good thing, right? It's wonderful to have and enjoy so many facets of myself. But sometimes I wonder whether it is possible to have, and to wear, too many hats? When we are constantly switching hats, and switching roles, do we in some important sense lose who we are? And who are we beneath the layers, without those hats?

I told you this post wasn't just about hats. It's about who we are and who we choose to be. The aspects of identity we select and those that select us.

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On any given day, how many hats do you don? What are these hats? Do you ever think that by alternating between so many hats we lose our heads, who it is we really are? How do you like my little dino and sheep?

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