{ Mom and Me (photo by Indy) | Los Gatos, CA | August 2015 }

I write so much, every single day of my life, that it's not often that I find myself at a loss for words. Spoken words, sure - I'm like the Jedi GrandMaster of saying exactly what I seriously did not mean (and then turning red)  - but with the written word I'm usually pretty good and getting across whatever point it is I'm trying to make. But when SheKnows asked me to write a post about "the greatest lesson my mom has ever taught me" I sat there at my keyboard for awhile staring at the blinkblinkblink of the cursor for way longer than I'm used to - because...I don't know, that's seems a huge proclamation to make. It feels like putting a finger on what's wonderful and special and enormous about my relationship with my mom, and I think everyone knows that the mother/daughter relationship defies those kinds of easy answers.

When I talk about my mother to people who don't know her, I refer to her as an angel, and as hokey as that sounds, I mean it. She is an actual angel; a person who wanders through the world shedding light and good intentions and support for others wherever she goes. It'd be easy to describe the way she sees the world as "childlike" - she routinely answers the question "Why?" with "Why not?" and cares exactly zero about "age-appropriateness" (ugh) or what other people think about her; she just wants to do the things that make her feel good and happy and alive, and so she does. But she also happens to be a badass lawyer, so "childlike" doesn't really apply here. Like, at all.

{ Adulting Sweatshirt | Floral Stripes & Arrows Blanket }

{ Check out the full Spring Celebration Blanket Collection here }

Yesterday I decided to take my son to the dentist for the first time: an act that was actually less of a "decision" than an "order" - the kindergarten he'll be enrolling at in the fall (TEAR) makes you fill out forms stating that your child is up-to-date on his vaccinations, has been to the dentist, et cetera. And he's four and a half now, so it seemed like a good time to make that first dentist trip anyway. But I was pretty nervous, because...well, I don't know, aren't dentists just kind of terrifying to everyone? Even thirty-four-year-old me gets all agitated about the thought of that horrifying little scythe-thing that they use that makes a horrible sound against your teeth and leaves your gums all bloody (if, like me, you are the kind of person who replies to the question "Do you floss daily?" with "Of course I do!" and are totally lying).

{ Red Light District | Phuket, Thailand }

A few years ago, somewhere between moving from Hell's Kitchen to the Upper East Side and then moving again to Tarrytown, the little camera cards holding all the photos and videos from our honeymoon went missing. We looked everywhere, but ended up trying to cultivate a "well, the memories are more important anyway" attitude about the loss. Which is, of course, true.

Still, though.