“How are you different from your mother?”
“I hope, in as few ways as possible.”
This from Studio 60 this week.
Have been thinking about mothers and daughters. Cracked open my thesis last night (had to dust it off first). The photograph of Georgia O’Keeffe’s hand across her bare breasts still gives me shivers. Procreativity and creativity. Photo at right is three generations of Eldredge women at Thanksgiving 2002 – one month old Gracie represents the end of the line for the red hair, apparently. I am pretty sure I don’t want Gracie to want to be just like me, but I think all the time about what it means to do right by her. I organized a Planned Parenthood event yesterday morning about how to talk to your children about sex – it was incredibly thought-provoking. Mostly because I realize now and then that Gracie (and Whit, eventually), will grow into a full-blown person; the responsibility of this is pretty daunting! I am so conscious of wanting Grace to grow up to be a confident woman, secure in her place in the world and sure of herself, physically, emotionally, intellectually. I don’t have any answers yet but I know the road ahead holds a complex amalgam of closeness and separation. As Letty Cottin Pogrebin says, “We mothers are learning to mark our mothering success by our daughter’s lengthening flight.” How to manage the myriad tensions between identification, longing for intimacy, and letting go … this will be one of the primary tasks of my life.

What a fabulous morning at the Shady Hill Fair with the stool. The highlight was unquestionably watching James, Charlie, and Gracie dance to the middle-school rock band. The three of them had their own mini mosh-pit going. The band was playing songs that to them were probably from olden times, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, G&R, and to us are the classics. The children danced like crazy people, enough that as you can see in the picture above random strangers were photographing them. It was downright hilarious. Benjamin, Will, and Whit tried out some moves as well. Watching the children play together, and observing their comfort with each other and with all six of the adults reminds me yet again that this is, and these people are, truly the core of my life.

Now it’s time to wax philosophic about the TPTs … how lucky I am to have found this group of women in Boston. My mother always used to say that the friends she “had her babies with” were the enduring ones – a special tribe – and that’s the case here. I count 16 babies in 4 years, and another one to come this winter … wow! Who else can I call to discuss weird rashes, the composition of spit-up, or Grace’s wild, excorcist-like moods?
We are nominally a book club, but we all know we’re really a drinking club. And a very deep set of friendships. The holy grail has been achieved: we are all friends, our husbands are all friends, and our children are approximately the same age. I knew these friendships were the ones my mother was talking about when I was sitting at Will Lavallee’s christening, and suddenly realized: wow.
I guess I am counting my blessings this week, and one long list of blessings is the wonderful women this world has introduced me to. So much love!

(Didn’t want to stop at 3 pictures so here are a couple more)