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This year I’m not looking for much at all, thank goodness. You know, just health, happiness, sustenance. The usual

I opened the cover now the way I’d greet a long-lost friend, holding my breath and wondering what I’d remember

I define myself by motherhood, I write about it. But what made me think I knew what I was doing?

It was him, it was her, it was her parents, it was his parents, it’s the Bais Yaakov system, it’s the yeshivah system, etc.

I can wear those comfy Ecco shoes to the wedding and no one will ask me why. Oh, the sadness of it all

Why do I fall apart each month, when I should be thrilled we still have a chance?