Before everyone’s home for winter break, I rearrange things to feel like there’s enough room. Picture: my two kids plus one kid’s boyfriend, and me, and most nights Nino, in an apartment that’s 1,000 square feet. Of course, there isn’t enough room. But after years of very small apartments, some things are normal for us: beds doubling as sofas, dinners on top of unfinished puzzles, cafés as a source of solitude. Read more
South Park episode “Butt Out” which makes fun of Rob Reiner’s self-delusion.
Rob Reiner is a famous director and he’s dead. You probably knew him from his movies This is Spinal Tap and When Harry Met Sally. Now you’ll know him because his son, Nick Reiner, killed his parents by slitting their throats.
The past two days have been filled with celebrations of the great Rob Reiner which seem completely tone deaf to me. Rob’s first job was to be a good parent to his son and he was a bad parent. Read more
My son’s personality type is ISFJ. I’m an ENTJ. We’ve always worked well together: I could see where to climb, and he could see how to do it. I offended people, and he smoothed things over. At first his people-pleasing, detail-oriented nature made me think I was failing as a parent. Then I worried that we were such a good team that we’d become codependent.
Now that he’s in college, he doesn’t trust my plans. He relies on advice from friends at school who are obsessed with positioning themselves well for an AI-infused workforce. Read more
Sean “Diddy” Combs with his mom as his plus one
There’s widespread anger that Sean Combs was only convicted of prostitution charges, not the more serious trafficking counts. But our outrage is misdirected. Yes, the law fails domestic violence victims, but before that, the law fails to protect children from the conditions that produce both predators and victims. And if we don’t hold parents accountable for violating ethical obligations, we can’t protect children at all.
My to-do list when the kids were home was divided into A’s, B’s and C’s. The A’s were emergencies — like ordering a SpongeBob cake. The B’s were waiting to become emergencies, like seeing if swimsuits still fit. The C’s were things I couldn’t admit I wasn’t doing. It was like my off-site storage for wishes.
Once both kids were in college I did what everyone does with off-site storage: ignore it. But after a year, I took a peek. And this jumped out at me: attack people who think there’s virtue in conscientiousness. I felt an urgent need to do this because people think I would have more money saved—any money saved—if I were more conscientious. But I know the truth: conscientiousness has no impact on success except being a gateway drug to perfectionism. Read more
It looked like a touching moment. Isaiah Hartenstein, fresh off an NBA championship win, carried his sleeping infant onto the podium to celebrate. Cameras panned. Fans cheered. But the sound levels on that stage were louder than a jet engine—reaching 120 to 130 decibels. That’s the threshold where irreversible hearing damage can happen in seconds. And millions of people watched, thinking this was what fatherhood should look like.
On top of that, Hartenstein held his infant with one hand around the middle while gesturing wildly with the other—a position that left the baby’s head and neck completely unsupported. Even teammates reminded him to support the baby’s head, but Hartenstein ignored the advice entirely. Read more
My oldest kid is looking for internships.
For those of you who have not had a kid call you hysterical because their life is over, let me tell you that all the good summer internships are given away in June of the summer before. Read more
Child abuse is distorted love. Sometimes it’s broken bones, but often it’s parents who say they care while eroding a child’s sense of safety and worth. The Menendez brothers are getting a sentencing review, and after 30 years of a life sentence they could be released from prison. But what’s really on review is our collective refusal to understand long-term abuse. The Menendez brothers are a cultural mirror: the more we understand their story, the more we must ask what we’ve normalized in our own homes.
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When my kids lived with me I felt like I had no control over when I could write, so I had to find happiness in helping my kids meet their goals. With both of them in college, I don’t set their goals anymore. So I’m trying to train myself to be happy when I write since that’s what I can control.
Meanwhile, I try to be an encouraging listener because I read that the thing that most influences college success (after the super-influencer: money) is parental encouragement in the student’s ability. Read more
While lurking in a Duke University discussion group I read that freshmen who have the most trouble adjusting are those who are delusional about being pre-med and those who never learned to write. The homeschooler in me finds a second wind: I tell Z we’re writing a paper every day until I drop him off at Duke. Read more