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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...


{I wrote this post a couple of days ago. And then. And then something told me not to publish it, that it was a little raw, lacking in editorial or existential varnish. Reading it over makes me feel a bit vulnerable, exposed. But you know what? Maybe that means that there is something profoundly universal, and real, here. So. So here it is. Maybe, just maybe, these words will trigger something in you or make you think of someone you know. Someone who is trying hard and realizing that this parenting and person-ing thing? It's tricky and wonderful business.}

Confession: I'm struggling.

Don't worry. It's a sweet struggle. (Mostly.) A good one. (Often.) Let me explain.

Maybe you've gathered this, but I'm a bit of a perfectionist. I like success and accomplishment. I like setting goals and reaching them. I like gold stars. Once upon a time, I thought I'd mature into a person who is reasonable and rational and understanding of the fact that perfection is unattainable, and even undesirable, that I'd give myself a break. But no. Here I am. Out of school, but still striving for A's.

But the thing is that I'm stretched between sides of myself. The mother side. The writer side. The wife side. The daughter side. The sister side. The friend side. The blogger side. (Who knew there would be so many sides?)

I'm realizing that we can't tend to all sides of ourselves at once. It's simply impossible. I cannot be a 100% hands-on mom and write a billion novels and leave a billion blog comments and call all my friends and say hey you! what's up? and be a super-supportive sister and daughter and an endlessly giving wife and organize my closets and cabinets and cook delectable and obviously organic meals all at the same time. And trying? It can make us, okay me, mildly miserable.

If I let it.

And so. Here is my vow: I will not let it. I will own up to the fact that I am, yup, human and, yup, fallible. That I'm honestly doing the best I can (I think), that I'm following my instincts (it seems), spending my time how it seems I should, stumbling splendidly (and shakily) along on this rocky and regal road that is Life.

You may have noticed that I've been a bit less present here. I have not been reading or leaving many comments on your blogs. That I have not been responding to many comments left here. I don't love this. In fact, I hate it. In an ideal world, I'd be on it, full of cyber-mojo, flitting around furiously, interacting with all of you. I love doing this. Trust me.


Right now? Right now, for better or worse, surely for better, my life is about three little girls. The three little girls who sit on the picnic blanket above surrounded by that glorious candy green grass. I never quite made a conscious choice, I never concluded This time is about them but I have realized that indeed this time is about them. And to this fine truth, I am happy to surrender. Even though it is sometimes hard.

In this blog world, we are so quick to confess our flaws as parents, to admit to our impatiences and frustrations and shortcomings. I think this makes sense; We are all seeking bits of camaraderie and compassion. But it is not as common to see someone celebrate the job she is doing, the difficult and hugely important job she is doing, raising young children.

You know what? I think I'm doing a pretty good job with my girls. There. I said it. I am not a perfect mom, I never will be, but I am doing well. These girls? They are thriving and smiling little people. On a daily basis, we are making it from A to B (and often to C-E) and back to A. We are interacting and laughing and eating fruit snacks and edamame and lollipops, having true conversations and squealing at passing firetrucks. Things are good.

Does being a "good" mom entail being a "less good" blogger? For me, maybe so. And that is okay. Quite simply, it has to be.

Or. Or, maybe, just maybe, being a good mom makes me an even better blogger? Not necessarily a blogger who is online 22 hours a day incessantly Tweeting and linking and commenting and responding, but a blogger who is utterly human and real and struggling (yes, sweetly) to honor and balance (ha!) all the intrinsically good and conflicting things in her life.

I'd really like to believe this. And so I will.

Thanks to all of you who continue to imbibe my words on a daily basis. And an extra thank you to those of you who continue to comment despite my admitted absenteeism of late. Are you a member of the Perfectionist species? Do you struggle to juggle your sides?

This Is Important

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