August 26, 2011


You may only have two or three feelings, but I have millions, and I am going to talk about them forever.

August 24, 2011

On self-soothing, or lack thereof

When I was growing up, occasionally I would overhear my mom giving other mothers or mothers-to-be advice. One topic that seemed to come up often was that of getting your infant to sleep independently through the night. My mom swore by the let-them-cry-it-out method. She liked to point to her experience with me as a success story.

Apparently, when I was a newborn in the hospital the ladies in the nursery would put me to sleep by rocking me. My mother felt that this was not a routine she was willing or able to continue when I came home so, from her account, our first few nights at home were difficult ones because I couldn't go to sleep.

At this point in recounting the story to her advisee, she put on her most determined face and said with a considerable amount of pride: "I had to just let her cry and cry and not go to her. I never rocked her to sleep once. Pretty soon, she learned not to expect it."

Hearing that story always made me sad, but I never said much about it over the years. Finally around age 14 or 15 I spoke up.

"But what was the big deal?" I asked. "Why wouldn't you have rocked me? I was your baby."

Her jaw tightened, and she said, "Because I wanted you to learn early how to take care of yourself. I needed to show you that someone wasn't always going to be there for you."

August 4, 2011

You see, I've already waited too long.

Shut your mouth
How can you say I go about things the wrong way?
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does.

(Oh, Morrissey.)

August 2, 2011


My dear friend Judith--on her spur of the moment trip to San Francisco--is asleep in my living room. We spent the day talking and laughing and eating and drinking, and I needed this in the worst way.

Our new little kitty Freddy is curled up fast asleep next to me. He's the sweetest little guy, and when he purrs loudly in my arms or bats at my lips when I'm trying to talk or nestles between Ivan and I in bed, my heart just melts.

More soon. For now I am soaking it all up like a sponge.