On Election Day, I boarded an international flight on my way to Kathmandu, Nepal. I had signed up for a writing retreat with a friend rather spontaneously and frankly had done minimal advance research on my destination – leaving me with little idea of what to expect. I heard the election results somewhere over the Atlantic, thanks to the plane’s Wi-Fi, and the news felt devastating to this lifelong liberal Democrat (much to my parents’ chagrin).

On Mother’s Day — like so many holidays commercialized with picture-perfect expectations — I always feel some inevitable tension.  On the one hand, I am deeply grateful for the mostly joyful years of parenthood since giving birth to my son nearly 21 years ago,  appreciating the flowers this morning and a kitchen cleaned by said offspring (who wasn’t even asked, but perhaps got the not-too-subtle hint).

At the risk of sounding ungrateful, I really don’t care for this time of year. Even in non-Covid “normal” years, my holidays these last 10 years never feel very normal. Usually at Thanksgiving my son is with his dad, and my step kids are with their mom. So, on that big-gathering-around-the-table holiday, my husband and I spend the day alone. 

The morning after Barack Obama’s victory in 2008, I cried with a friend in a coffee shop, elated and moved to tears by the election of our first Black president.  Eight years later, I cried again in a yoga class packed with people shocked and stunned by Donald Trump’s election.  

With warm wishes for a happy Thanksgiving, I wanted to share a few of my “gratitudes” this year…
1. HEALTH! Three years ago today was my one-day break in the middle of a seven-week radiation treatment for breast cancer. I will never again take good health for granted! I’m also grateful for all the poignant life lessons that cancer taught me, which I’m trying not to forget as the diagnosis and fear of the unknown seems more distant.

Dear Teenager,

I don’t know you, but I do live with three teenagers and one tween (my son and three stepkids).  I also have been through my own divorce, and I work with a lot of parents going through divorce.  I might even be working with one of your parents, and although I will never meet you, there are a few things I would love to share with you.  

I know lots of divorced dads.  I’m married to one, I co-parent my son with another, and probably half of my clients are divorced dads (or soon to be).  As a divorce lawyer and a divorced mom, I know well the challenges that divorced parents (not just dads) face.  

Recently after a particularly intense day at work, I realized that being a divorce lawyer bears some similarities to parenting teenagers.

On the 4th of July, one of my favorite holidays on Bainbridge Island, I enjoyed our small town Americana parade this year with my husband, his kids, their mom (my husband’s ex-wife), her husband, my son, his dad (my ex), my ex’s girlfriend and sister and stepsister, my parents and my brother’s family.  I’m not sure if I could diagram that family tree even if my happiness depended on it -- but there I was, because my kid’s (and stepkids’) happiness perhaps did depend on it.

Typical cocktail party small talk: What do you do? My answer, "I'm a divorce lawyer," elicits some fairly predictable responses: "That must be so difficult," or "You must be really cynical about marriage," or "Oh..." (this last comment perhaps by those wondering if my recent consults have included their friends, or spouses).