I’ve been seeing some posts on social media lately, encouraging people to remember who exactly checked on them and called and texted during the pandemic, almost as a test of friendship.
There’s a saying about success: get out of your own damn way. I am consistently inspired by this message. Tough circumstances are small hurdles when I compare them to our own mental wall.
Do kids need academic work over the summer? The short (and easy) answer is yes! The more nuanced question is: how much work is necessary?
Despite a lot of practice, I’m still trying to find the balance between being an independent pinnacle of strength and knowing when to ask for help. Cue the conversation in my head in which I’m torn between “putting my big girl pants on” and powering through, and telling myself I’d be an idiot not to confide in a friend/hire help/commiserate with my mom.
There are some breathtaking properties not far from New York City that you’ve surely heard of, or perhaps visited, like the John D. Rockefeller mansion in Mount Pleasant, NY and the John Jacob Astor estate further up the Hudson River in Rhinebeck.
I’m typically drawn to loud, charismatic speakers. They tell big, interesting stories and seamlessly mix in humor and anticipation. Cleo Wade is not that type of speaker.
As parents, we know our kitchen table is the best classroom. The opportunity to inspire change for the future lies in the conversations we share together. Ideally, the tone of what I discuss with my children, even something like race, should be loving, truthful, and eye-opening. And because I don’t know everything I want to know about ending racism, I asked for help.
There’s no way around it – this sucks. You deserve your cap and gown and all the pomp and circumstance. You earned it!
Lately, the typical hotspots we love aren’t so… hot. In fact, Greenwich Avenue and SoHo, typically bustling during spring, are downright deserted. Adding to this air of depressing quiet are storefronts that are actually boarded up in what appears more like hurricane preparedness than pandemic protocol. (That’s you, Sephora, West Elm, Valentino, etc, etc.)
When Governor Ned Lamont announced this week that Connecticut schools would remain closed through June, I wasn’t surprised. I did, though, feel a bit deflated. It has been a long road, and another six weeks felt like too much. Like an extended jail sentence. Like the groundhog seeing his shadow after winter had already cancelled all of the fun during a brutal winter.
