There is an episode of the podcast Ten Percent Happier (#497 How to deal with emotionally immature people including maybe your own parents). The fantasy of being seen is actually textbook. You are really on to something - but of course -brilliant in the way you’ve shaped this narrative around love & food & motherhood. PS - when the kids get older and they are busy with their own plans (which is middle school - not college like I naively assumed) you will cook again.
This piece was so powerful. First, as a mother myself, I've wondered why I struggle so much now with cooking anything special often and you nailed it. Secondly, the pleasantries of keeping up a difficult relationship are underlined in tremendous sadness. It's a sort of lack of reality but the only reality that can exist. The last line stings. Loved your novels but this is a gift too.
A moment that matured me most was realizing I’d have to be the parent to my parents rather than receive the kind of love I felt I needed. A transformative time to be sure (I always embody my current age and 500 years old). With my mom, it’s not cooking. It’s basketball. Your words cut, but in the sharpest way. Thank you for sharing.
This piece was so incredibly beautiful and moved me to tears. It resonated deeply, albeit in somewhat different ways. Thank you for sharing it here.
There is an episode of the podcast Ten Percent Happier (#497 How to deal with emotionally immature people including maybe your own parents). The fantasy of being seen is actually textbook. You are really on to something - but of course -brilliant in the way you’ve shaped this narrative around love & food & motherhood. PS - when the kids get older and they are busy with their own plans (which is middle school - not college like I naively assumed) you will cook again.
This piece was so powerful. First, as a mother myself, I've wondered why I struggle so much now with cooking anything special often and you nailed it. Secondly, the pleasantries of keeping up a difficult relationship are underlined in tremendous sadness. It's a sort of lack of reality but the only reality that can exist. The last line stings. Loved your novels but this is a gift too.
A moment that matured me most was realizing I’d have to be the parent to my parents rather than receive the kind of love I felt I needed. A transformative time to be sure (I always embody my current age and 500 years old). With my mom, it’s not cooking. It’s basketball. Your words cut, but in the sharpest way. Thank you for sharing.
Mothers and daughters, so close and so far apart. Thank you for writing this.
Beautiful writing.
This is gorgeous, Steph. ❤️