I'm thinking about subtler mind-set and perspective shifts, ways in which we approach the world as parents and as people. Here are mine. I'd love to hear yours.
1. Be in more family photos. When crafting my holiday cards -- a task I usually relish -- I combed through hundreds of photos from 2024 and realized how few included me, because it's easier to hide behind the camera. Sometimes, I actually cringe when seeing myself in pictures. I look older, squishier, grayer. Different. Changed. I'm not 25 anymore. I'm not even 35 anymore.
I usually delete photos where I don't look passable; this usually happens when my phone isn't angled just right to avoid extra chins (please, shoot from above!). This week, Andy took a candid photo of me at dinner in Manhattan, and I began to actually cry to him to please delete it. How many of us do this, moms especially? Edit, retouch, delete, curate, take the photo instead of getting in it. Right?
Then I began to think, how lucky am I to have these photos and chances for memories with people I love? I told a friend about my meltdown -- and she said the exact same thing. But then she said something that stuck with me: "Nobody loves us because we're perfect." With that in mind, I'm going to be in more photos this year. Even if I do still angle my face to make my chins disappear.
This isn't just about shedding vanity; it's about slowing down time. I'm in my mid-forties, an age when friends are beginning to confront serious health issues -- a suspicious mammogram here, a heart attack there. Our parents are getting sick or dying. Our kids are getting older: my second-grader is still little, but my middle schooler has the beginnings of a mustache and a cracking voice like Peter Brady. Life isn't infinite. We need to capture it, chins and all.
2. Put my phone down at dinner. Not sure what sort of life-shattering news I'm expecting each time it buzzes, but I do know that somehow my identity has become conflated with relentless availability: replying immediately, checking the email, liking the text. It's to the point that my hand feels almost lonely and restless without my phone nearby. I think back to the 1990s, as a kid, eating dinner with my family (chicken a la king or an Old El Paso taco kit), when we had nothing but a lonely landline on the kitchen wall. What did we talk about? What did we do? I was able to live decades without my phone; I'm confident I will be able to do so again, for at least 20 minutes. Who am I, if not available? I hope to find out.
3. Say no (or yes!) and mean it. A few months ago, a group of parent-friends and I were supposed to go out on a Friday night after a long dreary week. It was fun; a terrific assortment of people trying out a fantastic restaurant. But one of us was exhausted. She group-texted: "Sorry, I'm too tired. Need to stay home and watch TV," or something to that effect.
The side-texts flew: Oh my God! What courage! She actually admitted to being tired -- and said no? It was like she'd begun singing opera in another language. What was going on here? Could somebody translate? What year was this?
Saying no, even to things you really want to do, is counterintuitive. It's definitely hard for me: I'm worried about FOMO, I don't want to be left out of the next thing, I think I can just rally and show up because I pride myself on being a high-energy person. But sometimes you just have to say no, honestly and directly, and trust that the net of good will and understanding will catch you. Nobody judged my friend. In fact, we admired her. Priorities aren't insults. Sometimes, you need to take care of yourself first. The more we normalize that, the happier we'll be.