Being an empty nester brings both endings and beginnings, and for me, this was especially true yesterday. I remember many past Mother’s Days spent at Yankee Stadium, Playland Amusement Park, and other assorted kid-friendly locales, where I would spend most of the day chasing, wiping, feeding, blowing noses and often yelling. The peace only came when all were fed, watered, and put to bed.
Later on, as I became a more seasoned mother, I remember cherished Mother’s Days spent alone, in my home, at my request, while my husband entertained the four children and I was able to do whatever I wanted. Usually, it included the pure joy of walking from room to room in my house, and finding them empty. I could polish off an entire novel in one sitting.
But now, at 52, with my oldest child 26 and my youngest 19, those labor-intensive and sometimes solitary Mother’s Days are long behind me, an ending that in retrospect I’m both melancholy and elated to see go. Because now, Mother’s Day is all about me, and I get to spend it surrounded by my grown children.
My kids understand two things that are sacrosanct to me when it comes to Mother’s Day; it’s the thought that counts, and it’s an insult, eye roll free day. The word of the day is KIND, and I usually bound out of bed ready for the loving, warm, selfless, considerate, big-hearted moments to unfurl. And to their credit, they do. My smile is especially wide on this day.
Sometimes, the stars align, and I get to share it with my mom, and that is what happened this weekend. A mother’s day gift in and of itself, and as a bonus, I spent a good majority of my weekend holding my new niece, Jules. Nine weeks old and life affirming. There is nothing better for the soul then holding a sweet smelling newborn.
Last week I went to the Tefaf Art Fair at the Park Avenue Armory. It graces NYC twice a year in spring and fall. I highly suggest you put it on your fall to do list. As my artist daughter, Sophie said, “This art show is extra.” Maybe it was the strolling cart of Ruinart Champagne, or the oyster bar, or the hundreds of real flowers hanging from the ceiling, or the priceless works of art for sale that had prices like $3.5 mm. Or maybe it was the clientele and their ensemble and exotic accents. Or perhaps it was the very Old New York setting of the Park Avenue Armory. Regardless, it’s a must go.
Meeting up for lunch on the upper east side, I usually gravitate towards Fred’s, Grazie or BG in Bergdorf’s – all of which I love, but I had a friend in from LA, and I wanted to try something new. I chose Amali, and we had a lovely lunch in their back room that feels like a garden, but is actually inside.
Job Hunt Update: I have a follow-up interview this week at a firm that I’m very interested in, and think could be a great fit; more on that next week.
Things I’m looking forward to this spring:
Oh, and eating oysters and drinking rose at Grand Banks.
See you next week when I post my interview with my favorite perennials Amy Nobile and Trisha Ashworth, co-authors of Just When You’re Comfortable in Your Own Skin, It Starts to Sag who will be speaking at the 92nd Street Y on May 23rd.
Have fun. Be bold.