I'm So Lucky To Call My Mom My Best Friend - Her View From Home (2024)

I’ve already done this. It was supposed to be easier this time. Newsflash: it doesn’t get easier. Three years ago, I sent my firstborn—my only daughter—to college. At the risk of sounding dramatic, I felt gutted. Like I’d lost a limb. Unhealthy perspective? I suppose. And I kept telling myself all the things. She’s ready, she’s been ready forever. This was always the goal. Roots and wings. All of it was true. My original platitude was, “The only thing worse than her going would be her staying.” People laugh when I say that, imagining I am referring to mother/daughter angst,...

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What a joy and a privilege it is to have a bond with your grandma. Oh, but what a joy and what a privilege it is to watch that bond form between your mom and your own kids. The day I gave birth to my daughter, I became a mother. A transformation took place inside me. My priorities changed in an instant. I had never known such a love like that before. Another transformation was also quietly happening that same day. As my mom was waiting in the wings, watching her firstborn become a mom herself, she stepped into the...

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Dad, I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately and how you are in this weird in-between of working and retiring. Your age tells you one thing, but I think your health and motivation and bank account tell you another. It’s obvious you want more vacations and travel opportunities, but your bosses at work are not excited about you acting retired while still employed. It’s true that your granddaughters miss you, but I miss you too. I don’t want to just see you once a year . . . that is not enough. But it was also me who moved...

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I already raised my kids. I already had the endless days, the sleepless nights, the tantrums, and the training. I already raised my kids. I already shepherded the choral and band concerts, the science fairs, school plays, ball tournaments, driver’s ed classes, homework, dances, and proms. I already raised my kids. I already did the shopping, the cooking, the cleaning and laundry, the sticky floors and stained carpets. I already alternated between being present and powering through the late, late evenings; the early, early mornings; and the millions of moments in between. We did the couch forts, chapter book marathons,...

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Until today, I never really thought about the fact that my favorite picture on the middle bookshelf in our great room included two grandmothers: my mother and myself. The photograph captures one of the most perfect moments imaginable, as my daughter (the very one who quite adamantly stated as a teenager that she was never going to marry and was definitely never going to have children), gently introduced her baby to my wheelchair-bound mother in the memory ward of the nursing home. My mother is cradling little Adler in her lap with the most beautifully lucid expression on her face—one...

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One of the greatest gifts in my life is that I can still go back. Go back to visit my parents in their seventh decade of life. Go back to the magic of the tree-lined streets of my childhood, whose roots are seeped in memories. Go back to the childhood home that paved 18 years of stepping stones guiding me into the life I live. Go back to the fireplace mantle lined with aged photographs of my heritage. I can’t remember a time I have gone back when I didn’t linger in the wonder of those photos on the mantle...

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As a mom of two middle school daughters, I can only dream of one day becoming a grandma. This potential reality seems to be so far away, yet time is fleeting, more and more so every passing year. My grandparenting era could be closer than I desire. As one part of me dreads getting older another part of me aches for gray hair, wrinkles, knowledge, wisdom, and holding sweet babies my girls created. What will my grandkids call me? What will my grandma name be? What will my husband’s grandpa name be? I don’t care what they call me. I...

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18 will hug you . . . if you ask. 18 will send you funny TikToks. 18 will not make a TikTok with you no matter how much you cajole him. 18 says I love you back. Sometimes. 18 never calls. But he will text you asking what’s for dinner, where is the air freshener, and if you can pick up some Halo Top at the grocery store. 18’s phenomenally filthy room will unnerve you. The amount of empty Snapple bottles and fast food wrappers will have you investing in lawn and leaf garbage bags. When 18 cleans his room,...

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Dear Mom, Six thousand, five hundred and seventy days. It’s hard to believe I’ve lived for 6,570 days, and now I am eighteen. The past 18 years have been filled with triumphs and challenges. Wonderful memories like you reading aloud to the family as we sat together in the living room, all the time and attention you gave me when I was homeschooled, and your ongoing patience with me even when I refused to talk to you for a day because of long division. When I think back through the years, so many moments stand out to me. Taking pictures...

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I am writing this at the hospital bedside of my dad, who just had quadruple bypass surgery, feeling endless gratitude to those incredible doctors and nurses who have kept his heart beating over the last few days that have felt like years. And by the time you read this, he will hopefully be back to begging my mom to let him eat a Superdawg and fries. (The answer will most definitely be no.) Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I’ve been in this hospital scene with my parents. But it is the scariest.Living far away, getting frantic calls—news that requires...

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